Selections from tlje Writings of i^arie Corellt Clje Beauties of JHarte Corellt Oh Selected ^ ^tArraiiged^ with the Author s permission^ by ANNIE MACKAY Published by George Redway London # # # mdcccxcvii Cl)e QBeauties of M^vit Corellt A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS YOURS? Why, what can you really call your own ? Every talent you have, every breath you draw, every drop of blood flowing in your veins, is lent to you only ; you must pay it all back. And as far as the arts go, it is a bad sign of poet, painter, or musician, who is arrogant enough to call his work his own. It never was his, and never will be. It is planned by a higher intelligence than his, only he happens to be the hired labourer chosen to carry out the con- ception ; a sort of mechanic in whom boastfulness looks absurd ; as absurd as if one of the stonemasons working at the cornice of a cathedral were to vaunt himself as the designer of the whole edifice. And when a work, any Lent, not given A A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Human reason C!)e T5eautie0 of work, is completed, it passes out of the labourer's hands ; it belongs to the age and the people for whom it was accomplished, and, if deserving, goes on belonging to future ages and future peoples. DOUBT is the destroyer of beauty — the poison in the sweet cup of existence — the curse which mankind have brought on themselves. Avoid it as you would the plague. Believe in anything or everything miraculous and glorious — the utmost reach of your faith can with difficulty grasp the magnetic reality and perfec- tion of everything you can see, desire, or imagine. Mistrust that volatile thing called Human Reason, which is merely a name for whatever opinion we happen to adopt for the time — it is a thing which totters on its throne in a fit of rage or despair — there is nothing infinite about it. Guide your- self by the delicate Spiritual Instinct within you, which tells you that with God all things are possible, save that He cannot destroy Himself or lessen by one spark the fiery brilliancy of ^arie Cotelli His ever-widening circle of produc- tive Intelligence. I PERCEIVE with almost cruel sud- denness the true characters of all those whom I meet. No smile of lip or eye can delude me into accepting mere surface matter for real depth, and it is intensely painful for me to be forced to behold hypocrisy in the expression of the apparently devout — sensuality in the face of some radi- antly beautiful and popular woman — vice under the mask of virtue — self- interest in the guise of friendship, — and spite and malice springing up like a poisonous undergrowth beneath the words of elegant flattery or dainty compliment. THE fatal finger of the electric instinct within me points out unerringly the flaw in every human diamond, and writes Sham across many a cunningly contrived imitation of intelligence and goodness. A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS True characters The fatal finger A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Is it sense Arbiters of our own fate Cbe 15eautie0 of Is it sense to imagine that the im- mense machinery of the Universe has been set in motion for nothing ? Is it even common reason to consider that the soul of man, with all its high musings, its dreams of unseen glory, its longings after the Infinite, is a mere useless vapour, or a set of shift- ing molecules in a perishable brain ? The mere fact of the existence of a desire clearly indicates an equally existing capacity for the gratifica- tion of that desire ; therefore I ask, would the wish for a future state of being, which is secretly felt by every one of us, have been per- mitted to find a place in our natures, if there were no possible means of granting it ? Why all this discontent with the present — why all this universal com- plaint and despair and world -weari- ness if there be no hereafter ? WE are the arbiters of our own fate, and that fact is the most important one of our lives. Our Will is positively unfettered ; it is a rudder e^atiz CorelU put freely into our hands, and with it we can steer wherever we choose. God will not compel our love or obedience. We must ourselves desire to love and o bey- world. desire it above all things in the PHYSICIANS are very clever, and estimable men, and there are a few things which come within the limit of their treatment ; but there are also other things which bafQe their utmost profundity of knowledge. One of these is that wondrous piece of human machinery, the nervous system; that intricate and delicate network of fine threads — electric wires on which run the messages of thought, impulse, affection, emotion. If these threads or wires become, from any subtle cause, entangled, the skill of the mere medical practitioner is of no avail to undo the injurious knot, or to unravel the con- fused skein. The drugs generally used in such cases are, for the most part, repellant to the human blood and natu- ral instinct, therefore they are always dangerous, and often deadly. A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS The nervous system / Cfje IBtnntiz^ of A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Art T HOSE who adopt any art as a means of livelihood begin the world heavily handicapped — weighted down, as it were, in the race for for- tune. The following of art is a very different thing to the following of trade or mercantile business. In buying or selling, in undertaking the work of im- port or export, a good head for figures, and an average quantity of shrewd common-sense, are all that is necessary in order to win a fair share of success. But in the finer occupations, whose results are found in sculpture, painting, music, and poetry, demands are made upon the imagination, the emotions, the entire spiritual susceptibility of man. Tl^ most delicate fibres of the brain areltaxed ; the subtle inner workings of thought are brought into active play ; and the temperament becomes dailyand hourly more finely strung, more sensi- tive, more keenly alive to every pass- ing sensation : — The men and women I speak of as Artists are those who work day and night to attain even a small degree of perfection, and who are never satisfied with their own best efforts. ^atie Cotelli MATERIALISM does not, and can never still the hunger of the Immortal Spirit in man for those tilings divine, which are, by right, its heritage. Nothing on earth can soothe or console it — nothing temporal can long delight it — in time the best gifts the world can offer seem valueless ; for while one spark of God's own essence remains alit within us, it is impossible that here, on this limited plane of thought and action, we should ever be satisfied. It is those who feel the quick stir- rings of a larger, grander life within them — who realise with love and eager- ness the wonders of the world to come, and who gaze appealingly across the darkness of present things, sti^ing to see, no matter how indistinctly, the first faint glimmer of the brightness that glitters beyond the grave — to these I speak inadequately and feebly I know, yet with all my soul desiring to cheer them, as they climb from steep to steep of high thought, and noble endeavour, onward and up- ward. A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Materialism Cf)e 'Beautie0 of A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Spiritual progress TRUE Spiritual progress and know- ledge are shown in the cheerful, sincere, and wholesome life of the per- son possessing it, and in the encourag- ing and ennobling influence that life has on the lives of others. Moreover, it is displayed in the buoyancy and tireless energy of the body, in which the beautiful, expanding, highly des- tined spirit is for a time bidden to work — the absence of all depression, the contentment and tranquillity of the disposition and temper. The inner self THE people taken en masse are never brought to realise the fact of the imperishable inner self within each one of them — that actual self which claims as much and more suste- nance than the outer body on which we spend such a superabundance of care — care which avails nothing at death, while the attention bestowed on the deathless part of us avails everything. I KNOW that men and women of to-day must have proofs, or what they are willing to accept as a^atie Corclli proofs, before they will credit any- thing that purports to be of a spiritual tendency; — something startling — some miracle of a stupendous nature, such as, according to prophecy, they are all unfit to receive. Few will admit the subtle influence and incontestable, though mysterious, authority exercised upon their lives by higher intelligences than their own — intelligences unseen, unknown, but felt. Yes ! felt by the most careless, the most cynical ; in the uncomfortable prescience of danger, the inner forebodings of guilt — the moral and mental torture endured by those who fight a protracted battle to gain the hardly-won victory in them- selves of right over wrong — in the thousand and one sudden appeals made without warning to that com- pass of a man's life, Conscience — and in those brilliant and startling im- pulses of generosity, bravery, and self-sacrifice which carry us on, heed- less of consequences, to the perform- ance of great and noble deeds, whose fame makes the whole world one resounding echo of glory — deeds that we wonder at ourselves even in the A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS No proofs lO Cl)e IBeautieg of A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS performance of them — acts of heroism in which mere life goes for nothing, and the Soul for a brief space is pre- eminent, obeying blindly the guiding influence of a something to itself, yet higher in the realms of Thought, There are no proofs as to why such things should be ; but that they are, is indubitable. The miracles enacted now are silent ones, and are worked in the heart and mind of man alone. Compen- sations TO have the serene sublimity of the God-man Christ; and con- sent to be crucified by a gibing world that was fated to be afterwards civi- lised and dominated by His teachings, what can be more glorious ? To have the magnificent versatility of a Shake- speare, who was scarcely recognised in his own day, but whose gifts were so vast and various that the silly mul- titudes wrangle over his very identity and the authenticity of his plays to this hour — what can be more trium- phant ? To know that one's own soul can, if strengthened and encour- aged by the force of will, rise to a su- preme attitude of power — is not that a^atie CorelU 1 1 sufficient to compensate for the little whining cries of the common herd of men and women who have forgotten whether they ever had a spiritual spark in them, and who, straining up to see the light of genius that burns too fiercely for their earth-dimmed eyes, exclaim : "We see nothing, there- fore there can be nothing." Ah, " the knowledge of one's own inner Self- Existence is a knowledge surpassing all the marvels of art and science ! " A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS IN this world there are no two natures alike, yet all are born with a small portion of Divinity within them, which we call the Soul. It is a mere spark smouldering in the centre of the weight of clay with which we are encumbered, yet it is there. Now this particular germ or seed can be cultivated if we WILL — that is, if we desire and insist on its growth. As a child's taste for art or learning can be educated into high capabilities for the future, so can the human Soul be educated into so high, so supreme an attainment, that no merely mortal standard of measurement can reach its ^Vhat all are born with 12 A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Life is heroism Cj)e IBzautitsi of magnificence. With much more than half the inhabitants of the globe, this germ of immortality remains always a germ, never sprouting, overlaid and weighted down by the lymphatic lazi- ness and materialistic propensities of its shell or husk — the body, A NY one can die. A murderer has xA. moral force enough to jeer at his hangman. It is very easy to draw the last breath. It can be accom- plished successfully by a child or a warrior. One pang of far less anguish than the toothache, and all is over. There is nothing heroic about it, I assure you ! It is as common as going to bed ; it is almost prosy. Life is heroism, if you like ; but death is a mere cessation of business. And to make a rapid and rude exit off the stage before the prompter gives the sign is always, to say the least of it, ungraceful. Act the part out, no matter how bad the play. DO you deem women all alike — all on one common level, fit for nothing but to be the t03^s or ^arie Cotelli drudges of men ? Can you not realise that there are some among them who despise the inanities of everyday Hfe — who care nothing for the routine of society, and whose hearts are filled with cravings that no mere human love or life can satisfy ? Yes — even weak women are capable of greatness ; and if we do sometimes dream of what we cannot accomplish through lack of the physical force necessary for large achievements, that is not our fault but our misfortune. We did not create ourselves. We did not ask to be born with the over-sensitiveness, the fatal delicacy, the highly-strung ner- vousness of the feminine nature. EACH circumstance that happens to each one of us brings its own special lesson and meaning — forms a link, or part of a link, in the chain of our existence. It seems nothing to you that you walk down a particular street at a particular hour, and yet that slight action of yours may lead to a result you wot not of. "Accept the hint of each new 13 A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS Women Circum- stance H Cbe 16eautie0 of A ROM- ANCE OF TWO WORLDS experience," says the American imitator of Plato — Emerson. If this advice is faithfully followed, we all have enough to occupy us busily from the cradle to the grave. ARDATH Silence I HAVE kept silence so long ! You know what it is in the world, — one must always keep silence, always shut in one's grief and force a smile, in company with the rest of the tor- mented forced - smiling crowd. We can never be ourselves — our veritable selves — for if we were, the air would resound with our ceaseless lamenta- tions ! It is horrible to think of all the pent-up sufferings of humanity — all the inconceivably hideous agonies that remain for ever dumb and unre- vealed ! THE doubter and opposer of God, is also the doubter and opposer of his own well-being. Let this un- natural and useless combat of Human a^arie CorelU Reason against Divine Instinct cease within you. Freedom ! By the Gods, 'tis a delusive word embodying a vain idea ! Where is there any free- dom in life ? All of us are bound in chains and restricted in one way or the other, — the man who deems him- self politically free is a slave to the multitude and his own ambition, — while he who shakes himself loose from the trammels of custom and creed, becomes the tortured bondsman of desire, tied fast with bruising cords to the rack of his own unbridled sense and appetite. There is no such thing as freedom, my friend, unless haply it may be found in death ! THE rude licentiousness of an un- cultivated boor has its safety- valve in disgust and satiety, — but the soft, enervating sensualism of a trained and cultured epicurean aristocrat is a moral poison whose effects are so in- sidious as to be scarcely felt till all the native nobihty of character has withered, and nought is left but the shadow-wreck of his former self. 15 ARDATH Freedom The Epicurean i6 ARDATH Meaning of love Free Will C{)e T5eautie0 of WE men have yet to learn the true meaning of love. We consider it from the selfish standpoint of our own unbridled passions, — we wilhngly accept a fair face as the visible reflex of a fair soul, and nine times out of ten we are utterly mistaken ! We begin wrongly, and we therefore end miserably ; — we should love a woman for what she is, and not for what she appears to be. Yet, how are we to fathom her nature ? — how shall we guess, — how can we decide ? Are we fooled by an evil fate ? — or do we, in our lives and marriages, de- Hberately fool ourselves ? IF you voluntarily choose evil, not all the forces in the world can lift you into good, — if you voluntarily choose danger, not all the gods can bring you into safety ! Free Will is the divine condition attached to human life, and each man by thought, word, and deed, deter- mines his own fate, and decides his own future ! ^atie Corelii SCIENCE somewhat resembles a straight Hne drawn clear across country, but leading, alas ! to an ocean wherein all landmarks are lost and swallowed up in blankness. Over and over again the human race has trodden the same pathway of research, — over and over again has it stood bewildered and baffled on the shores of the same vast sea, — the most marvellous dis- coveries are after all mere child's play compared to the tremendous secrets that must remain for ever unrevealed ; and the poor and trifling comprehen- sion of things that we, after a lifetime of study, succeed in attaining, is only just sufficient to add to our already burdened existence, the undesirable clogs of discontent and disappointed endeavour. We die, — in almost as much ignorance as we were born, — and when we come face to face with the Last Dark Mystery, what shall our little wisdom profit us ? A BUDDING republican! thought Theos. That is how the " liberty, equality, fraternity " system always begins, — first among street- 17 ARDATH Science A budding Republican B i8 ARDATH Pent-up woe Cj)e I5eautte0 of boys who think they ought to be gentlemen, — then among shopkeepers who persuade themselves that they deserve to be peers — then comes a time of topsy - turvydom and fierce contention, and by and by everything gets shaken together again in the form of a Republic, wherein the street-boys and shopkeepers are not a whit better off than they were under a monarchy — they become neither peers nor gen- tlemen, but stay exactly in their origi- nal places, with the disadvantage of finding their trade decidedly damaged by the change that has occurred in the national economy ! Strange that the inhabitants of this world should make such a fuss about resisting tyranny and oppression, when each particular individual man, by custom and usage, tyrannises over and oppresses his fellow-man to an extent that would be simply impossible to the fiercest king. SUPPRESSED sorrow is hardest to endure, and when grief once finds apt utterance, 'tis alreadyhalf con- soled ! So should the world's great Q^arie Corelli singers tenderly proclaim the world's most speechless miseries, and who knows but vexed Creation, being thus relieved of pent-up woe, may not take new heart of grace and comfort ? ARDATH o iNLY" for the sake of custom ! Nay, custom should be surely classified as an exceeding powerful god, inasmuch as it rules all things, from the cut of our clothes to the form of our creeds ! And he who de- spises custom becomes an alien from his kind, — a moral leper among the pure and clean. O say rather a lion among sheep, a giant among pigmies ! For, by my soul, a man who had the courage to scorn custom, and set the small hypocrisies of society at defiance, would be a glorious hero ! — a warrior of strange integrity whom it w^ould be well worth travelling miles to see ! Custom METHINKS those who are best beloved of the gods are chosen first to die. Death is not difficult, — but to live long enough for life to lose all savour, and love to lose all charm, Long life 20 ARDATH After death C!)e 15eautie0 of — this is a bitterness that comes with years and cannot be consoled, AND this would end for ever my Ix. mistakes and follies — and I should perchance discover the small hidden secret of things — the little simple unguessed clue, that would unravel the mystery and meaning of Existence ! For can it be that the majestic marvel of created Nature is purposeless in its design ? — that we are doomed to think thoughts which can never be realised ? — to dream dreams that perish in the dreaming ? — to build up hopes without founda- tion ? — to call upon God when there is no God ? — to long for Heaven when there is no Heaven ? Ah no, — surely we are not the mere fools and dupes of Time, — surely there is some Eternal Beyond which is not Annihilation, — some greater, vaster sphere of soul- development, where we shall find all that we have missed on earth ! THERE are others who are only happy in the pursuit of wisdom, and the more they learn, the more ^arie Cotelli they seek to know. One wonders, — one cannot help wondering, — are their aspirations all in vain ? — and will the grave seal down their hopes for ever? — However great may be the imagination and fervour of a poet, for instance, he never is able wholly to utter his thoughts. Half of them remain in embryo, like buds of flowers that never come to bloom, — yet they are there, burning in the brain, and seem- ing too vast of conception to syllable themselves into the common speech of mortals ! I have often marvelled why such ideas suggest themselves at all, as they can neither be written nor spoken, unless — unless indeed they are to be received as hints, — fore- shadowings — of greater works destined for our accomplishment, — hereafter ! GOOD women dislike flattery, while bad ones court it. IT needs something more than the " moral " sense to rightly ennoble man, — it needs the spiritual sense; — the fostering of the instinctive Im- mortal Aspirations of the creature, to 21 ARDA'IH Thoughts in embryo Flattery Spiritual sense 22 ARDATH Wrong and right C!)e 15eautie0 of make him comprehend the responsi- bility of his present Hfe, as a prepara- tion for his higher and better destiny. The cultured, the scholarly, the ultra- refined, may live well and uprightly by the " moral sense," — if they so choose, provided they have some great ideal to measure themselves by, — but even these without faith in God, may sometimes slip, and fall into deeper depths of ruin than they dreamed of, when self-centred on those heights of virtue where they fancied themselves exempt from danger. WE men are cast, as it were, between two swift currents. Wrong and Right, — Self and God, — and it seems more easy to shut our eyes and drift into Self and Wrong, than to strike out brave arms, and swim, despite all difficulty, towards God and Right, yet if we once take the latter course, we shall find it the most natural and the least fatiguing. And with every separate stroke of high endeavour we carry others with us, — we raise our race, — we bear it onward, — upward ! And the true ^arie Cotelli reward, or best result, of fame is, that having succeeded in winning brief attention from the multitude, a man may be able to pronounce one of God's lightning-messages of inspired Truth plainly to them, while they are yet willing to stand and listen. This momentary hearing from the people is, as I take it, the sole reward any writer can dare to hope for, — and, when he obtains it, he should remember that his audience remains with him but a very short while, — so that it is his duty to see that he employs his chance well, not to win applause for himself, but to cheer and lift others to noble thought, and still more noble fulfilment. THE heart-whole appreciation of the million is by no means so " vulgar" as it is frequently considered, — it is the impulsive response of those who, not being bound hand and foot by any special fetters of thought or prejudice, express what they instinc- tively feel to be true. You cannot force those "Vulgar" by any amount of " societies " to adopt Browning as a household god — but they will appro- 23 ARDATH Popular applause 24 ARDATH Music Thought and expression Cj)e T5cautle0 of priate Shakespeare and glory in him too, without any one's compulsion. If authors, painters, and musicians would probe more earnestly than they do to the core of this instinctive higher aspiration of peoples, it would be all the better for their future fame. For each human unit in a nation has its great as well as base passions, — and it is the clear duty of all votaries of art to appeal to and support the noblest side of nature only, — moreover to do so, with a simple, unforced, yet graphic eloquence of meaning that can be grasped equally and at once by both the humble and exalted. M USIC is distinctly the language of the emotions. A GREAT thought leaps into the brain like a lightning-flash ; — there it is, an indescribable mystery, warning the soul and pervading the intellect, — but the proper expression of that thought is a matter of the deepest anxiety to the true poet, who, if he be worthy of his vocation, is bound not only to proclaim it to the world Q^arie Cotclli clearly, but also clad in such a perfec- tion of wording that it shall chime on men's ears with a musical sound as of purest golden bells. MAN has no enemy save that which is within him, and that the pride of a rebellious Will is the parent Sin from which all others are generated. The old scriptural saying is true for all time, that through pride the angels fell; — and it is only through humility that they will ever rise again. Pride ! the proud Will that is left free by Divine Law, to work for itself and answer for itself, and wreak upon its own head the punishment of its own errors, — the Will that once voluntarily crushed down in the dust at the Cross of Christ, with these words truly drawn from the depths of penitence, " Lord, not as I will, but as Thou wilt ! " is straightway lifted up from its humilia- tion, a supreme stately Force, resist- less, miraculous, world-commanding ; — smoothing the way for all greatness and all goodness, and guiding the happy soul from joy to joy, from glory to glory, till Heaven itself is reached, 25 ARDATH The parent Sin 26 ARDATH Egotism Cf)e T5eautie0 of and the perfection of all love and life begins. For true humility is not slav- ish, as some people imagine, but rather royal ! — since, while acknowledging the supremacy of God, it claims close kindred with Him, and is at once invested with all the diviner virtues. Fame and wealth, the two perishable prizes for which men struggle with one another in ceaseless and cruel combat, bring no absolute satisfaction in the end — they are toys that please for a time and then grow wearisome. But the conquering of Self is a battle in which each fresh victory bestows a deeper content, a larger happiness, a more perfect peace, — and neither poverty, sickness, nor misfortune can quench the courage or abate the ardour of the warrior who is absorbed in a crusade against his own worst passions. Egotism is the vice of this age, — the maxim of modern society is, "each man for himself and no one for his neighbour," — and in such a state of things, when personal interest or ad- vantage is the chief boon desired, we cannot look for honesty in either reli- gion, politics, or commerce. Nor can a^arie CorelU we expect any grand work to be done in art or literature. When pictures are painted and books are written for money only, — when labourers take no pleasure in labour save for the wage it brings, — when no real enthusiasm is shown in anything except the accu- mulation of wealth, — and when all the finer sentiments and nobler instincts of men are made subject to Mammon- worship, is any one so mad and blind as to think that good can come of it ? — Nothing but evil upon evil can accrue from such a system; and those who have prophetic eyes to see through the veil of events, can perceive even now the not far distant end, namely, the ruin of the country that has per- mitted itself to degenerate into a mere nation of shopkeepers, and something worse than ruin, — degradation ! IN this world no one, however harm- less, is allowed to continue happy. Fate — or caprice — cannot endure to see us monotonously at rest. Some- 27 ARDATH Mammon- worship VEN- DETTA 28 Ct)e IBtfiixtitfS of VEN- DETTA thing perfectly trivial — a look, a word, a touch, and lo ! a long chain of old associations is broken asunder, and the peace we deemed so deep and last- ing is finally interrupted. Southern races WE love, we desire, we possess ; and then ? We tire, you say ? These Southern races are so fickle ! All wrong — we are less tired than you deem. And do not Englishmen tire ? Have they no secret ennui at times when sitting in the chimney nook of "home, sweet home," with their fat wives and ever- spreading families? Truly, yes ! But they are too cautious to say so. The tricks of women ALL men past the age of twenty Ix. have learnt somewhat of the tricks of women — the pretty, playful nothings that weaken the will and sap the force of the strongest hero. Our best friends WE are never grateful enough to the candid persons who wake us from our dreams — yet such are in truth our best friends, could we but realise it. ^arie Cotelli THE fault of all modern labour lies in the fact that there is no heart in anything we do, — we seldom love our work for work's sake, — we perform it solely for what we can get by it. Therein lies the secret of failure. Friends will scarcely serve each other unless they can also serve their own interests, — true, there are exceptions to this rule, but they are deemed fools for their pains. A SHOWER of melody rained from the trees on every side — the pure, sweet, passionate tones pierced the ear like the repeated chime of little golden bells — the beautiful, the tender, the God-inspired birds sang their love stories simply and with per- fect rapture — love stories untainted by hypocrisy — unsulhed by crime — dif- ferent, ah ! so very different from the love stories of selfish humanity ! The exquisite poetic idyll of a bird's hfe and love — is it not a thing to put us inferior creatures to shame ? ... for are we ever as true to our vows as the lark to his mate ? . . . are we as 29 VEN- DETTA Modern labour The song of the birds 30 VEN- DETTA CSe 15eautic0 of A friendly cheat The lie that saves sincere in our thanksgiving for the sunlight as the merry robin who sings as blithely in the winter snow as in the flower-filled mornings of spring ? Nay, not we ! Our existence is but one long impotent protest against God, combined with an insatiate desire to get the better of one another in the struggle for base coin ! I HEAR a good deal of the "plain blunt honesty " of the English, ... I daresay there is some truth in it, but for my own part I would rather be cheated by a friendly fellow, who gives you a cheery word and a bright look, than receive exact value for my money from the " plain blunt " boor who seldom has the common polite- ness to wish you a good-day. GOOD-HEARTED, merry rogue! His ideas of right and wrong were oddly mixed — yet his lies were better than many truths told us by our candid friends — and you may be certain the great Recording Angel knows the difference between a lie Q^atie Corelli 31 that saves and a truth that kills, and metes out Heaven's reward or punish- ment accordingly. VEN- DETTA FRANCE is unvirtuous enough, God knows, yet there is a sun- shiny smile on her lips that cheers the heart. Italy is also unvirtuous, yet her voice is full of bird-like melody, and her face is a dream of perfect poetry ! But England unvirtuous, will be like a cautiously calculating, some- what shrewish matron, possessed of unnatural and unbecoming friskiness, without either laugh, or song, or smile — her one god. Gold, and her one commandment, the suggested eleventh, " Thou shalt not be found out ! " England unvirtuous GOLD, gold for ever ! what will it not do ! It will bring the proud to their knees, it will force the obsti- nate to servile compliance, it will conquer aversion and prejudice. The world is a slave to its yellow glitter, and the love of woman, that perishable article of commerce, is ever at its com- mand. Gold 32 VEN- DETTA Woman's talk Womanhood C!)e T5eautie0 of A WOMAN talks as a brook babbles ; pleasantly, but without depth. Her information is generally of the most surface kind, — she skims the cream off each item of news, and serves it up to you in her own fashion, caring little whether it be correct or the reverse. And the more vivaciously she talks, the more likely she is to be dangerously insincere and cold-hearted, for the very sharpness of her wit is apt to spoil the more delicate percep- tions of her nature, SHE would have grown to woman- hood, — what then ? What is the usual fate that falls to even the best women ? Sorrow, pain, and petty worry, unsatisfied longings, incom- pleted aims, the disappointment of an imperfect and fettered life — for say what you will to the contrary, woman's inferiority to man, her physical weak- ness, her inability to accomplish any great thing for the welfare of the world in which she lives, will always make her more or less an object of pity. If good, she needs all the tender- ness, support, and chivalrous guidance er^arie CorelU of her master, man, — if bad, she merits what she receives, his pitiless disdain and measureless contempt. MAN'S dupHcity may succeed in withholding a truth for a time, but in the end it must win its way. Once resolve, and then determine to carry out that resolve, and it is aston- ishing to note with what marvellous ease everything makes way for you, pro- vided there be no innate weakness in yourself which causes you to hesitate. OGGI! Oggi!" is their cry,— to-day, to-day ! Never mind what happened yesterday, or what will happen to-morrow, — leave that to i Signori Santi and la Signora Madonna ! And after all there is a grain of reason in their foil}-, for many of the bitterest miseries of man grow out of a fatal habit of looking back or looking forward, and of never living actually in the full-faced present. MERE beauty of face and form can be bought as easily as one buys a flower, — but the lo3'al heart, 33 VEN- DETIA Resolution To-day ! Mere beautv 34 Cl)e T5eautie0 of VEN- DETTA the pure soul, the lofty intelligence which can make of woman an angel — these are unpurchasable ware, and seldom fall to the lot of man. For beauty, though so perishable, is a snare to us all — it maddens our blood in spite of ourselves, ... we men are made so. Wicked women Equality THERE is a weak point in the strongest of us, and wicked women know well where we are most vulnerable. One dainty pin-prick well aimed — and all the barriers of caution and reserve are broken down — we are ready to fling away our souls for a smile or a kiss. Surely at the last day when we are judged, — and maybe condemned, — we can make our last excuse to the Creator in the words of the first misguided man : " The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, — she tempted me, and I did eat ! " IT is an impossible dream," he said, in reply to the remarks of Gualdro and Satustri, "that idea of all men fraternising together in one common pig-stye of equality. Look agaric CorelU at the differences of caste ! Birth, breeding, and education maice of man that high -mettled, sensitive animal known as gentleman, and not all the socialistic theories in the world can force him down on the same level with the rough boor, whose flat nose and coarse features announce him as ple- beian even before one hears the tone of his voice. We cannot help these things. I do not think we would help them even if we could." THE beauties of nature and of humanity are so varied and pro- found that were it not for the inex- tinguishable longing after immortality which has been placed in every one of us, I think we should be perfectly satisfied with this world as it is. SO much of a woman's after life depends on the early training she receives. We do all we can, and yet in some cases our utmost efforts are in vain ; evil creeps in, we know not how, — some unsuspected fault spoils a character that we judged to be admirable, and we are often 35 VEN- DETTA Immortality Early tr;iining 36 VEN- DETTA THELMA A brief space The look of a child Cfie Idz^utitsi of disappointed in our most promising- pupils. Alas ! there is nothing en- tirely without blemish in this world. IT was, for him, one of those sudden halts in life which we all experi- ence, — an instant, — when time and the world seem to stand still, as though to permit us easy breathing ; a brief space, — in which we are allowed to stop and wonder awhile at the strange unaccountable force within us, that enables us to stand with such calm, smiling audacity, on our small pin's point of the present, between the wide dark gaps of past and future ; a small hush, — in which the gigantic engines of the universe appear to revolve no more, and the immortal Soul of man itself is subjected and overruled by supreme and eternal Thought. IT was the look of one in whose past there were no secrets — the look of a child who is satisfied with the present and takes no thought for Q^arie Corelli the future. Few women look so after tliey have entered then' teens. Social artifice, affectation, and the insatiate vanity that modern fife encourages in the feminine nature — all these things soon do away with the pellucid clear- ness and steadfastness of the eye — the beautiful, true, untamed expres- sion, which, though so rare, is, when seen, infinitely more bewitching than all the bright arrows of coquetry and sparkling invitation that flash from the glances of well-bred society dames, who have taken care to educate their eyes if not their hearts. AS a rule, he believed more in the Ix. commonplace than in the roman- tic — most people do. But truth to tell, romance is far more common than the commonplace. There are few who have not, at one time or other of their lives, had some strange or tragic epi- sode woven into the tissue of their everyday existence; and it would be difficult to find one person even among humdrum individuals, who, from birth to death, has experienced nothing out of the common. 37 THELMA Romance 38 THELMA The bees and their lesson A trumpery village Ci)e 15eautie0 of THEY would store it up, sir ; yes, they would, even if they knew ! It is God's will that they should store it up; it is God's will that they should show an example ot unselfishness, that they should flit from flower to flower sucking there- from the sweetness to impart unto strange palates unlike their own. It is a beautiful lesson ; it teaches us who are the ministers of the Lord to likewise suck the sweetness from the flowers of the living Gospel and im- part it gladly to the unbeliever, who shall find it sweeter than the sweetest honey ! MY good fellow, don't pretend to be so deplorabl}^ ignorant ! Surely you know that a trumpery vil- lage or a twopenny town is much more choice and exclusive in its "sets" than a great city ? I wouldn't live in a small place for the world. Every in- habitant would know the cut of my clothes by heart, and the number of buttons on my waistcoat. The grocer would copy the pattern of my trousers, a^arie Cotelli — the butcher would carry a cane like mine. It would be simply insufferable. TIS one of the many privileges of the old, to see the world about them always young and full of children. I WILL tell you who it is that rules the people in these times, — it is the Pen — Madame la Plume ! A little black, sharp, scratching devil she is, — empress of all nations ! No crown but a point, — no royal robe save ink ! It is certain that as long as Madame la Plume gambols freely over her realms of paper, so long must kings and auto- crats shake in their shoes, and be un- certain of their thrones. Mon Dieu ! if I had but the gift of writing, I would conquer the world ! TAKING the largest goblet on the table, she filled it to the brim with wine, and touched it with her lips, — then with a smile in which a thousand radiating sunbeams seemed 39 THELMA The old Madame la Plume An old Norwegian custom 40 THELMA Cf)e 13eautieB of The creed of nothina; to quiver and sparkle, she lifted it towards Errington. The grace of her attitude and action wakened him out of his state of dreamy bewilderment — in his soul he devoutly blessed these ancient family customs, and arose to the occasion like a man. Clasping with a tender reverence the hands that upheld the goblet, he bent his handsome head and drank a deep draught, while his dark curls almost touched her fair ones. I'M not afraid of death,— lots of very religious people are horribly afraid of it, though they ail the time declare it's the only path to heaven. They're not consistent at all. You see, I believe in nothing, — I came from nothing, — I am nothing, — I shall be nothing. That being plain, I am all right." Giildmar laughed. " You are an odd lad," he said good-humouredl3\ " You are in the morning of life : there are always mists in the morning as there are in the evening. In the light of your full manhood you will ^arie Corelli see these things differently. Your creed of Nothing provides no moral law, — no hold on the conscience, no restraint on the passions, — don't you see that ? " I DON'T believe in love at first sight ! " " I do," returned Lorrimer decidedly. "Love is electricity. Two telegrams are enough to settle the business, — one from the e3'es of the man, the other from those of the woman." OLD Guldmar is an Odinite. In this blessed, enlightened nine- teenth century of ours, when Christians amuse themselves bydespisingand con- demning each other, and thus upsetting all the precepts of the Master they pro- fess to follow, there is actually a man who sticks to the traditions of his ancestors. Odd, isn't it ? In this delightful intellectual age, when more than half of us are discontented with life and yet don't want to die, there is a fine old gentleman, living beyond the Arctic Circle, who is perfectly satisfied 41 THELiMA Love at first sight An Odinite 42 THELMA Love Cf)e 15eautie0 of with his existence — not only that, he thinks death the greatest glory that can befall him. A MAN, if he be strong and healthy, is always more or less ashamed when Love, with a single effort, proves him to be weaker than a blade of grass swaying in the wind. What ! all his dignity, all his resolutions, all his authority, swept down by the light touch of a mere willow wand ? for the very sake of his own manhood and self-respect, he cannot help but be ashamed ! It is as though a little nude, laughing child mocked at a lion's strength, and made him a helpless prisoner with a fragile daisy chain. So the god Eros begins his battles, which end in perpetual victory, — first fear and shame, — then desire and passion, — then conquest and posses- sion. And afterwards ? ah ! . . . afterwards the pagan deity is power- less, — a higher God, a grander force, a nobler creed, must carry Love to its supreme and best fulfilment. ^arie Corelli HA, ha! You call me "friend." You think that word a safe- guard ! I tell you, no ! There are no friends now ; the world is a great field of battle, — each man fights the other. There is no peace, — none anywhere ! The wind fights with the forests ; you can hear them slashing and slaying all night long — when it is night — the long, long night ! The sun fights with the sky, the light with the dark, and fife with death. It is all a bitter quarrel ; none are satisfied, none shall know friendship any more ; it is too late! EVERYTHING in every way has been begun and completed and then forgotten over and over, in this world, — to be begun and completed and forgotten again, and so on to the end of the chapter. No one nation is better than another in this respect, — there is, — there can be, nothing new. Norway, for example, has had its day ; whether it will ever have another, I know not. " You would have been a Viking, 43 THELMA Decay of friendship Nothing new 44 C{)e IBeautietf of THELMA A Viking Mr. Giildmar, had you lived in the old days," he said, with a smile. " I should indeed ! " returned the old man, with an unconsciously haughty gesture of his head ; " and no better fate could have befallen me ! To sail the seas in hot pursuit of one's enemies or in search of further conquest, — to feel the very wind and sun beating up the blood in one's veins, — to live the life of a via7i — a true man ! ... in all the pride and worth of strength and in- vincible vigour! — how much better than the puling, feeble, sickly existence led by the majority of men to-day! I dwell apart from them as much as I can, — I steep my mind and body in the joys of Nature and the free fresh air, — but often I feel that the old days of the heroes must have been best, — when Gorm the Bold and the fierce Siegfried seized Paris, and stabled their horses in the chapel where Charlemagne lay buried ! " Alluding to Shake- speare H E is the only glory of your country I envy ! I would give anything to prove him a Norwegian. a^atie CorelU By Valhalla ! had he but been one of the Bards of Odin, the world might have followed the grand old creed still ! If anything could ever persuade me to be a Christian, it would be the fact that Shakespeare was one. If Eng- land's name is rendered imperishable, it will be through the fame of Shake- speare alone, — just as we have a kind of tenderness for degraded modern Greece, because of Homer. Ay, ay ! countries and nations are worthless enough ; it is only the great names of heroes that endure, to teach the lesson that is never learned sufficiently, — namely, that man, and man alone, is fitted to grasp the prize of inmiortality. YOU believe in immortality ? " inquired Macfarlane seriously. " Believe in it ? I possess it ! How- can it be taken from me ? As well make a bird without wings, a tree without sap, an ocean without depth, as expect to find a man without an immortal soul ! " 45 THELMA Imniorlality 46 THELMA Divine authority Grief Cl)e QBeautie0 of " AND this Divine authority?" said Ix. Duprez suddenly, with a deli- cate sarcastic smile, "how and where do you perceive it ? " " In the very Law that compels me to exist, young sir," said Giildmar, — "in the mysteries of the universe about me, — the glory of the heavens, the wonders of the sea ! You have perhaps lived in cities all your life, and your mind is cramped a bit. No wonder, . . . you can hardly see the stars above the roofs of a wilderness of houses. Cities are men's work, — the gods have never had a finger in the building of them. Dwelling in them, I suppose you cannot help for- getting Divine authority altogether; but here, — here among the mountains, you would soon remember it ! You should live here, — it would make a man of you ! " WHAT is grief?" " To love ! " answered Sieurd promptly. "To see a beautiful elf with golden wings come fluttering, fluttering gently down from the sky, — you open your arms to catch her — so e^atit Corclli . . . and just as you think you have her, she leans only a httle bit on one side and falls, not into your heart — no ! — into the heart of some one else ! That is grief, because, when she has gone, no more elves come down from the sky — for you, at any rate, — good things may come for others, — but for you the heavens are empty ! " WHO shall unravel the mystery of a woman's weeping ? Who shall declare whether it is a pain or a relief to the overcharged heart ? The dignity of a crowned queen is capable of utterly dissolving and disappearing in a shower of tears, when Love's burning finger touches the pulse, and marks its slow or rapid beatings. I T is what I have wondered at all my life," he said, "that skill of the brush dipped in colour. Pictures surprise me as much as poems. Ah, men are marvellous creatures, when they are once brought to understand that they are men, — not beasts ! One will take a few words and harmonise them into a song or a verse that clings 47 THELMA A woman's weeping Pictures 48 THELMA Shake- speare CJe QBeautie0 of to the world for ever; another will mix a few paints and dab a brush in them, and give you a picture that generation after generation shall flock to see. It is what is called genius, — and genius is a sort of miracle. Yet I think it is fostered by climate a good deal, — the further north, the less in- spiration. Warmth, colour, and the lightness of heart that a generally bright sky brings, enlarges the brain and makes it capable of creative power." H E must have travelled," returned Giildmar positively. " No one will make me believe that the man never visited Italy. His Italian scenes prove it, — they are full of the place and the people. The whole of his works, full of such wonderful learn- ing, and containing so many types of different nations, show, — to my mind at least, — that countries were his books of study. Why I, who am only a farmer, and proprietor of a bit of Nor- wegian land, — I have learned many a thing from simply taking a glance at a new shore each year. That's the way Q^atie CoreUi I used to amuse myself when I was young, — now I am old, the sea tempts me less, and I am fonder of my arm- chair ; yet I've seen a good deal in my time — enough to provide me with memories for my declining days. And it's a droll thing, too," he added, with a laugh, " the further south you go, the more immoral and merry are the people; the further north, the more virtuous and miserable. There's a wrong balance somewhere, — but where, 'tis not easy to find out." AH, bah!" he said, "what droll i. things remain still in the world ! Yes, in spite of liberty, equality, frater- nity ! You do not believe in foolish legends, mademoiselle ? For example, do you think you will suffer purga- tory ? " " Indeed, yes ! " she replied. " No one can be good enough to go straight to heaven. There must be some little stop on the way in which to be sorry for all the bad things one has done." " 'Tis the same idea as ours," said Giildmar. "We have two places of punishment in the Norse faith ; one. 49 THELMA North and South Purgatory D 50 THELMA Which is the right one? C|)e T5eautie0 of Possibilities Nifleheim, which is a temporary thing Hke the Catholic purgatory ; the other Nastrond, which is the counterpart of the Christian hell. Know you not the description of the Nifleheim in the 'Edda'? — 'tis terrible enough to satisfy all tastes. * Hela, or Death, rules over the Nine Worlds of Nifleheim. Her hall is called Grief. Famine is her table, and her only servant is Delay. Her gate is a precipice, her porch Faintness, her bed Leanness, — Curs- ing and Howling are her tent. Her glance is dreadful and terrifying, — and her lips are blue with the venom of Hatred.' " " It seems to me," observed Erring- ton, "that the Nine Worlds of Nifle- heim have a resemblance to the different circles of Dante's Purgatory." "Exactly so," said Lorrimer. "All religions seem to be more or less the same. The question I can never settle is, which is the right one ? " PHILIP and Thelma, — man and woman in the full flush of youth, health, beauty, and happiness, — had just entered their Paradise, — theirfairy- Qparic Cotelli garden, — and every little flower and leaf on the way had special, sweet interest for them. Love's indefinable glories, — Love's proud possibilities, — Love's long ecstacies, — these, like so many spirit-figures, seemed to smile and beckon them on, on, on, through golden seas of sunlight, — through flower-filled fields of drowsy entrance- nient, — through winding ways of rose- strewn and lily-scented leafage, — on, on, with eyes and hearts absorbed in one another, — unseeing any end to the dreamlike wonders that, like some lieavenly picture-scroll, unrolled slowly and radiantly before them. Life was worth living, worth cherish- ing, worth ennobling. The reason of all things seemed clear to him. Love, and Love only, supported, controlled, and grandly completed the universe ! He accepted this answer to all per- plexities, — his heart expanded with a sense of large content — his soul was satisfied. P lERHAPS there will be some people wicked enough to hate her ladyship, Morris ? " "I shouldn't 51 THELMA Love and life Hate 52 THELMA An aristocratic " crush " Cfte I5eautie0 of wonder," said Morris philosophically. " I shouldn't wonder at all ! There's a deal of hate about one way or another — and if a lady is as beautiful as an angel, and cuts out everybod}^ wherever she goes, why, you can't expect the other ladies to be very fond of her. 'Tisn't in human nature — at least, not in feminine human nature. Men don't care much about their looks one way or the other, unless they're young chaps — then one has a little patience with them, and they come all right." WHO can adequately describe the thrilling excitement attending an aristocratic " crush " — an extensive, sweeping-oflF-of-old-scores "at home," that scene of bewildering confusion which might be appropriately set forth to the minds of the vulgar in the once- popular ditty, " Such a gelting-upstairs I never did see ! " Who can paint in sufficiently brilliant colours the mere outside of a house thus distinguished by this strange festivity, in which there is no actual pleasure, — this crowding of carriages — this shouting of small a^atie CoreUi boys and policemen ? — who can, in words, delineate the various phases of lofty indignation and offence on the countenances of pompous coachmen, forced into contention with vulgar but good-natured "cabbys" for right of way ? . . . who can sufficiently set forth the splendours of a striped awning avenue, lined on both sides with a collection of tropical verdure, hired for the occasion at so much per dozen pots, and illuminated with Chinese lanterns ! Yes — a great many people endure sharp twinges of discontent at the sight of Awning Avenue, — people who can't afford to give parties, and who wish they could, — pretty, sweet girls who never go to a dance in their lives, and long with all their innocent hearts for a glimpse, — just one gHmpse ! — of what seems to them inexhaustible, fairy -like delight, — lonely folks, who imagine in their simplicity that all who are privileged to pass between the lines of hired tropical foliage afore- mentioned must perforce be the best and most united of friends — hungry men and women who picture, with 53 THELMA Awning Avenue 54 THELMA Modern society Cfte IBeauties of watering mouths, the supper-table that lies beyond the awning, laden with good things, of the very names of which they are hopelessly ignorant, — while now and then a stern, dark- browed Thinker or two may stalk by and metaphorically shake his fist at all the waste, extravagance, useless luxury, humbug, and hypocrisy, Awn- ing Avenue usually symbolises, MODERN society contains within itself the seed of its own de- struction, — the most utter Nihilist that ever swore deadly oath need but con- tain his soul in patience, and allow the seed to ripen. For God's justice is as a circle that slowly surrounds an evil and as slowly closes on it with crushing and resistless force, — and feverish, fretting humanity, however nobly inspired, can do nothing either to hasten or retard the round, perfect, absolute, and Divine Law. So let the babes of the world play on, and let us not frighten them with stories of earth- quakes, — they are miserable enough as it is, believe it ! — their toys are so brittle, and snap in their feeble hands agaric Corelli so easily, that one is inclined to pit}- them ! And Awning Avenue, with its borrowed verdure and artificial light, is frequently erected for the use ol' some of the most wretched among the children of the earth, — children who have trifled with and lost everything, — love, honour, hope, and faith, and who are travelling rapidly to the grave with no consolation save a few hand- fuls of base coins, which they must, perforce, leave behind them at the last. Y OU see, we novelists have an unfortunate trick of looking at the worst or most ludicrous side of everything — we can't help it! So many apparently lofty and pathetic tragedies turn out, on close examina- tion, to be the meanest and most miserable of farces, — it's no good making them out to be grand Greek poems when they are only base dog- gerel rhymes. Besides, it's the fashion nowadays to be cJiiffonniers in litera- ture — to pick up the rags of life and sort them in all their uncomeliness before the morbid eyes of the public. 55 THELMA Novelists 56 THELMA "Joyous Fraternity " Cl)e TBeautie^ of What's the use of spending thought and care on the manufacture of a jewelled diadem and offering it to the people on a velvet cushion, when they prefer an olla-podrida of cast-off" clothing, dried bones, and candle- ends ? In brief, what would it avail to write as grandly as Shakespeare or Scott, when society clamours for Zola and others of his school ? SHE had once imagined that all the men and women of culture who followed the higher professions must perforce be a sort of "Joyous Frater- nity " superior to other mortals not so gifted, — and, under this erroneous impression, she was at first eager to know some of the so-called "great" people who had distinguished them- selves in literature or the fine arts. She had fancied that they must of necessity be all refined, sympathetic, large - hearted, and noble - minded — alas ! how grievously was she dis- appointed ! She found, to her sorrow, that the tree of modern Art bore but few wholesome roses and many cankered buds — that the "Joyous Q^arie Corelli Fraternity " were not joyous at all — but on the contrary, inclined to dys- pepsia and discontent. She found that even poets, whom she had fondly deemed were the angel-guides among the children of this earth, — were most of them painfully conceited, selfish in aim and limited in thought, — more- over, that they were often so empty of all true inspiration, that they were actually able to hate and envy one another with a sort of womanish spite and temper, — that novelists, professing to be in sympathy with the heart of humanity, were no sooner brought into contact one with another, than they plainly showed by look, voice, and manner, the contempt they enter- tained for each other's work, — that men of science were never so happy as when trying to upset each other's theories ; — that men of religious com- bativeness were always on the alert to destroy each other's creeds, — and that, in short, there was a very general tendency to mean jealousies, miserable heart-burnings, and utter weariness all round. 57 TFIELMA The so- called "great " 58 THELMA Our servants A pinch of snuff Cf)e T5eautiej0f of TALK of private detectives and secret service ! Do private de- tectives ever discover so much as the servants of a man's own household ? — servants who are aware of the smallest trifles, — who know the name and position of every visitor that comes and goes, — who easily learn to recognise the hand-writing on ever}- letter that arrives — who laugh and talk in their kitchens over things that their credulous masters and mistresses imagine are unknown to all the world save themselves, — who will judge the morals of a Duke, and tear the reputa- tion of a Duchess to shreds, for the least, the most trifling error of con- duct ! If you can stand well with your servants, you can stand well with the whole world — if not — carry yourself as haughtily as you may — your pride will not last long, depend upon it ! CULTIVATE the humour of a Socrates, and reduce ever3'thing by means of close argument to its smallest standpoint, and the world, life, and time are no more than a pinch Qparie Cotelli of snuff for some great Titanic god to please his giant nose withal ! " /^NLY a misunderstanding. . . ." V^ Only a misunderstanding ! How many there are who can trace back broken friendships and severed loves to that one thing — "only a mis- understanding ! " The tenderest rela- tions are often the most delicate and subtle, and "trifles light as air" may scatter and utterly destroy the sensitive gossamer threads extending between one heart and another, as easily as a child's passing foot destroys the spider's web woven on the dewy grass in the early mornings of spring. OUR nearest and dearest are often those who are most in the dark respecting our private and personal sufferings, — we do not wish to trouble them, — and they prefer to think that everything is right with us, even though the rest of the world can plainly perceive that everything is wrong. To the last moment they will refuse to see death in our faces, though the veriest stranger, meeting us casu- 59 THEI.MA A miMin- derstanding Our nearest and dearest 6o THELMA Summer in England Cryiii: Ci)e T5eautie0 of ally, clearly beholds the shadow of the dark Angel's hand. SUMMER in Shakespeare Land ! Summer in the heart of England — summer in wooded Warwickshire, — a summer, brilliant, warm, radiant with flowers, melodious with the songs of the heaven — aspiring larks, and the sweet, low trill of the forest-hidden nightingales. Wonderful and divine it is to hear the wild chorus of night- ingales that sing beside Como in the hot languorous nights of an Italian July — wonderful to hear them madden- ing themselves with love and music, and almost splitting their slender throats with the bursting bubble of burning song, — to hear them warbling less passionately but more plaintively, beneath the drooping leafage of those grand old trees, some of which may have stretched their branches in sha- dowy benediction over the sacred head of the grandest poet in the world. I T is foolish to cry even when the heart aches. I have found that, no one in the world ever pities you ! agaric CotelU 6i But perhaps you do not know the world, — ah ! it is very hard and cold ; all the people hide their feelings, and pretend to be what they are not. THELMA God " T DON'T know what you mean by -L a heathen," replied Britta almost gaily. " But I can't believe that God, who is so good, is going to everlastingly burn anybody. He couldn't, you know ! It would hurt Him so much to see poor creatures writhing about in flames for ever — we would not be able to bear it, and I'm quite sure it would make Him miserable even in heaven. Because He is all Love — He says so — He couldn't be cruel ! " IS Love alone worth living for — worth dying for ? Is it the only satisfying good we can grasp at among the shifting shadows of our brief exist- ence ? In its various phases and different workings, is it, after all, the brightest radiance known in the strug- gling darkness of our lives ? " Love, that keeps all the choir of lives in chime- Love, that is blood within the veins of time." Love 62 WORM- WOOD Sleep 'Mad" Cfje 15eautie0 of SILENCE, — silence ! It is the hour of the deepest hush of night ; the invisible, intangible clouds of sleep brood over the brilliant city. Sleep ! What is it ? Forgetfulness ? A sweet unconsciousness of dreamless rest ? Aye ! it must be so, if I remember rightly; but I cannot be quite sure, for it seems a century since I slept well. But what of that ? Does any one sleep well nowadays, save children and hard-worked diggers of the soil ? We who think — oh, the entanglements and perplexities of this perpetual Thought ! — we have no space or time wherein to slumber; between the small hours of midnight and morning we rest on our pillows for mere form's sake, and doze and dream, — but we do not sleep. WHO is mad, and who is sane ? It is not easy to decide. The world has various ways of defining insanity in different individuals. The genius who has grand ideas and ima- gines he can carry them out, is "mad"; the priest who, like Saint Damien, q^arie Corelli sacrifices himself for others, is "mad"; the hero who, hke the EngHsh Gordon, perishes at his post instead of running away to save his own skin, is "mad"; and only the comfortable tradesman, or financier who amasses millions by systematically cheating his fellows, is "sane." Live everybody, and everything that can live without a conscience, for con- science is at a discount in this age, and honesty cannot keep pace with our modern progress ! The times are as we make them ; and we have made ours those of realism ; the old idyllic days of faith and sentiment arc past. 63 WORM- WOOD THOSE cold and quiet stars ! What innumerable multitudes of them there are ! Why were they created ? Through countless centuries bewildered mankind has gazed at them and asked the same question, — a ques- tion never to be answered, — a problem never to be solved. The mind soon grows fatigued with pondering. It is better not to think. Mars 64 Ci)e TBeautieg of WORM- WOOD Modern needs \ T 7" ELL, we live in a great and V V wonderful era, and we have great and wonderful needs — needs which must be supplied ! One of our chief requirements is that we should know everything — even things that used for honour and decency's sake to be concealed. Wise and pure and beautiful things we have had enough of. They belong to the old classic days of Greece and Rome, the ages of idyll and allegory ; and we find them on the whole rather ennuyant. We have developed different tastes. We want the ugly truths of life, not the pretty fables. We like ugly truths. We find them piquant and palatable, like the hot sauce poured on fish to give it a flavour. For example, the story of " Paul et Virginie " is very charming, but also very tame and foolish. It suited the Hterary spirit of the time in which it was written ; but to us in the present day there is some- thing far more efitrahiant in a novel which faithfully describes the love- making of Jeanne the washer-woman with Jacques the rag-picker. We prefer their coarse amours to Virginie's a^arie Corelli tearful sentiment — autres temps, autres mocurs. ings genius I MIGHT have been rich, I might have been respectable, I might even have been famous — imagine it ! for I know I once had a few glimmer- of the swift lightning called in mc, and that my thoughts were not precisely like those of every- day men and women. But chance was against me, chance or fate ; both terms are synonymous. Let none talk to me of opposing one's self to fate ; that is simply impossible. Fight as we may, we cannot alter an evil destiny, or reverse a lucky one. Resist temp- tation ! cry the preachers. Very good ! but suppose you cannot resist ? 65 WORM- WOOD Destiny MORALITY has always seemed to me such an ambiguous term ! I asked my father to define it once, and he answered me thus — " Morality is a full and sensible recog- nition of the responsibilities of one's being, and a steadfast obedience to the laws of God and one's country." Morality E 66 CSe ^Beauties of WORM- WOOD Exactly ! but how does this defini- tion work, when by the merest chance you discover that 3^ou have no actual responsibilities, and that it does not matter in the least what becomes of you ? Again, that the laws of God and country are drawn up, after much violent dispute and petty wrangling, by a few human individuals nearly, if not quite, as capricious and unreason- able as yourself? What of morality, then ? Does it not resolve itself into a myth, like the Creed the churches live by ? A truce, I say, to such fair-seeming hypocritical shows of good, in a world which is evil to its very core ! Let us know ourselves truly for what we are ; let us not deceive our minds with phantasms of what we cannot be. Might- Have-Been NO wise man stops to consider his by-gone possibilities. The land of Might-Have-Been is, after all, no- thing but a blurred prospect; a sort of dim and distant landscape, where the dull clouds rain perpetual tears ! ^atie Cotelli OF course the beginning of my history is — love. It is the beginning of every man and every woman's history, if they are only frank enough to admit it. Before that period, hfe is a mere series of smooth and small events, monotonously agreeable or disagreeable, according to our sur- roundings, a time in which we learn a few useful things and a great many useless ones, and are for the most part in a half-awakened, pleasing state of uncertainty and wonder about the world in general. Love lights upon us suddenly like a flame, and lo ! we are transformed ; we are for the first time alive, and conscious of our beat- ing pulses, our warm and hurrying blood ; we feel ; we know ; we gain a wisdom wider and sweeter than any to be found in books, and we climb step by step up the height of ecstasy, till we stand in so lofty an altitude that we seemtoourselves to dominate both earth and heaven ! It is only a fool's para- dise we stumble into, after all ; but, then, everything is more or less foolish in this world ; if we wish to avoid folly, we must seek a different planet. 67 WORM- WOOD Love transforms 68 WORM- WOOD A rough truth Cfte lBeautiej8f of MEN never fall in love at first with a woman's mind; only with her body. They may learn to admire the mind afterwards if it prove worth admiration, but it is always a secondary thing. This may be called a rough truth, but it is true for all that. Who marries a woman of in- tellect by choice ? No one, and if some unhappy man does it by acci- dent, he generally regrets it. A stupid beauty is the most comfortable sort of housekeeper going, believe me; she will be strict with the children, scold the servants, and make herself look as ornamental as she can, till age and fat render ornament superfluous. Special in- tercession " T T is very touching and very JL beautiful," he said, " that quaint faith of the lower classes concerning special intercession. 1 have never been able to see anything ridiculous in the superstition which is born of ignorance : — as well blame an innocent child for believing in the pretty fancies taken from fairy-tales, as scoff at the poor peasant for trusting that one or other of the saints will have a special a^arie Cotelli 69 care of his vineyard or field of corn. I love the ignorant ! — they are our flock, our 'little ones/ whom we are to guide and instruct." IT takes a long while to ripen a man's sense of right and honour into a fixed guiding-rule for life. Those who are repubhcans in the flush of their impetuous youth may be Royal- ists or Imperialists when they arrive at mature manhood ; those who are atheists when they first commence their career, may become devout ser- vants of Heaven before they have reached the middle of their course. Patience for all and prejudice for none ! otherwise we, as followers of Christ, lay ourselves open to just blame. ONE should always prove the truth of things before believing in an ill report. Virtue is so very easily calumniated ! WORM- WOOD Patience Scandal RELIGION is poetry' — poetry is - religion. The worship of beauty is as holy a service as the worship of the beauty-creating Divinity. There Religion 70 Cfie IBeautieg of WORM- WOOD is a great deal of harm done to the Church by bigotry — the priesthood are too fond of sackcloth and ashes, penitence and prayer. They should look out upon the mirror of the world, and see life reflected there in all its varying dark and brilliant colours ; then, raising their thoughts to Heaven, they should appeal for grace to under- stand these v^onders, and explain them to the less enlightened multitude. The duty of a priest is, to my thinking, to preach of happiness and hope, not sorrow and death. Women \ 7^ 7 OMEN are strange folk ! Some V V are cruel, some frivolous, some faithless ; but I believe they are nearly all alike in their immense, their bound- less capacity for loving. Find me a woman who has never loved anything or anybody, and you will have found the one, the only marvel of the centuries ! Remem- brance REMEMBRANCE is very bitter, . and very useless as well ; to play out one's part bravely in the world, I have said one should have no ^arie Corelli 71 conscience; but it is far more necessary to have no memory ! Are there any poor souls wearing on forlornly to- wards the grave, and monotonously performing the daily routine of life without either heart or zest in living ? Let such look back to the time when the world first opened out before their inexperienced gaze like a brilliant arena of fair fortune, wherein they fancied they might win the chiefest prize, and then they will understand the meaning of spiritual torture! Then will the mind be stretched on a wrench- ing rack of thought! — then will the futile tears fill the tired eyes ; then will the passionate craving for death become more and more clamorous — death, and utter, blessed forgetfulness ! Ah ! if one could only be sure that we do forget when we die ! — but that is just what I, for one, cannot count upon. The uncertainty fills me with horror ! I dare not allow myself to dwell upon the idea that perhaps I may sink drowningly from the dull shores of life into a tideless ocean of eternal remembrance ! WORM- WOOD Shall we forget ? 72 WORM- WOOD First im- pressions Solitude Ct)e 150autie0 of THOUGH first impressions are sometimes erroneous, I believe there is a balance in favour of their correctness. If a singular antipathy seizes you for a particular person at first sight, no matter how foolish it may seem, you may be almost sure that there is something in your two natures that is destined to remain in constant opposition. You may con- quer it for a time ; it may even change, as it did in my case, to profound affec- tion ; but, sooner or later, it will spring up again with tenfold strength and deadliness ; the reason of your first aversion will be made painfully mani- fest, and the end of it all will be doubly bitter because of the love that for a brief while sweetened it. ONLY the straight-minded and pure of heart are fit for soli- tude, — there being no solitude any- where ! No solitude ! — for every inch of space is occupied by some e3^ed germ of life, — and none can tell how, or by whom our most secret deeds are watched and chronicled ! To be alone, simply means to be confronted Qparie Cotelli 73 with God's invisible, silent cloud of witnesses. WORM- WOOD REALLY I do believe there are . strange influences in the air sometimes ; like seeds of plants blown by the wind to places where they may best take root and fructify ; so the unseen yet living organic infusions of hatred — or love, — joy or sorrow, may be, for all we know, broadcast in the seemingly clear ether, ready to sink sooner or later into the human hearts prepared to receive and germinate them. It is a wonderful Universe ! and wonderful things come of it ! Strange influences A SPOKEN lie is bad enough,— but a wilfully acted lie is worse ! And yet, alas ! — what a false world we live in ! — how full of the most grace- fully performed lying ! The pity of it is that when truth is spoken, no one can be got to believe it. A lie THERE are some griefs that can follow and persecute to the very death even Croesus among his bags of bullion. I begin to think poverty is Poverty 74 CSe ^Beauties of WORM- WOOD Poverty one of the least of human misfortunes. It is a sort of thing you so soon get accustomed to ! It sits upon one easily, like an old coat ! You cease to desire a dinner if you never have it ! — it is quite extraordinary how the appetite suits itself to circumstances, and puts up with a cigar at twenty centimes instead of a filet for one franc ! — \he filet is actually not missed ! And what a number of remarkable cases we have had shown to us lately in the field of science, of men existing for a long period of time, without any nourishment save water ! I have been deeply interested in that subject, — I believe in the system thoroughly, — I have tried it (for my own amusement of course !). Yes — I have tried it for several days together ! I find it answers very well ! — it is apt to make one feel quite light upon one's feet, — almost aerial in fact, and ready to fly, as if one were disembodied ! — most curious and charming ! PHYSICAL perfection generally enchains us far more than mental, — as the tiger paces round his mate, a^arie CoreUi 75 so rarely do are chronicled " romances " not attracted by her sinuous form, her velvety skin and fiery eyes, so we court and ogle the woman whose body seems to us the fairest, — so women, in their turn, cast amorous eyes at him whose strength seems the best com- parison to their weakness. Of course there are exceptions to the rule, — but they occur, that they mong the world's realities. And we want realities nowadays, do we not ? — no foolish glozing over of true and ugly facts ? Well ! — one very true and very ugly fact is paramount in human history; namely, that this merely physical attraction between man and woman is of the briefest continuance, and nearly always turns to absolute loathing ! We are punished when we admire one another's perishable beauty to the exclusion of all mental or intelligent considerations, — punished in a thousand frightful ways, — ways which have truly a savour of Hell ! It is, perhaps, unjust that the punishment should fall so heavily, — but fall it does, without question. WORM- WOOD The physical attraction 76 CJ)e 15eautie0 of WORM- WOOD Society WELL, why does not every sin- ner make a clean breast of his secret evil thoughts and misdeeds, and, blazoning them to the world, abide calmly by the result ? It would be noble, — it would be stern-principled, — but afterwards ? When we had all frankly admitted ourselves to be more or less liars and knaves not worth a handshake or a thank-you, what then ? Nothing but this, — society would be at an end, and we might as well pull down our cities and return in howling nudity to the forest of primeval bar- barism. J'ai/aiin /'Alfaiin ! All is said ! It is the universal cry of existence — hun- ger ! And the remarkable part of the whole affair is, that the complaint is incessant; even Monsieur Gros-Jean, conscious of the well-rounded paunch he has acquired through over-feeding, has never had enough, and at morn- ing, noon, and evening, propounds the hunger problem afresh, and curses his chef for not providing more novelties in the cuisine. Humanity is never satisfied, — it ransacks earth, air, ocean, g^atie Cotelli 77 — it gathers together gold, jewels, palaces, ships, wine — and woman, — and then, when all is gotten that can be gained out of the labouring uni- verse, it turns its savage face towards Heaven and apostrophises Deity with a defiance. " This world is not enougli for my needs ! " it cries. " I will put Orion in my pocket and wear the Pleiades in my button-hole ! — I will have Eternity for my heritage and Thy- self for my comrade ! faifaim ! " WORM- WOOD M AN was born a savage, and he is still happiest in a state of sava- gery. He has been civilised over and over again, believe me, through innumer- able cycles of time, — but the savage can- not be gotten out of him, and if allowed to do so, he returns to his pristine con- dition of lawless liberty with the most astonishing ease ! Civilised, we are shackled and bound in a thousand ways when we wish to give rein to our natural impulses ; we should be much more contented in our original state of brutishness and nudity. And contentment is what we want, — and A savage 78 d)e IBeautiejS of WORM- WOOD We call it Life Paris what in our present modes of con- strained culture we never get. THE vital principle, — the strange ethereal essence that colours the blood, strings the nerves, lights the eyes, and works the brain, — we call it Life, — but it is something more than life — it is Spirit. PARIS is described as a brilliant centre of civilisation, but it is the civilisation of the organ-grinder's mon- key, who is trained to wear coat and hat, do a few agile tricks, grab at money, crack nuts, and fastidiously examine the insect parasites of his own skin. It is not a shade near the civilisation of old Rome or Athens, nor does it even distinctly resemble that of Nineveh or Babylon. In those age-buried cities — if we may credit historical records — men believed in the dignity of manhood, and did their best to still further en- noble it; but we in our day are so thoroughly alive to our own ridiculous- ness generally, that we spare neither time nor trouble in impressing our- selves with the fact. ^atie Corelli 79 TO be nobler than common is a sufficient reason for contempt and misprisal by the vulgar majority, — and never yet was there a grand spirit shut in human form, whether Socrates or Christ, that has not been laid on the rack of torture and wrenched piecemeal by the red-hot flawing-irons of public spite, derision, or neglect. A BRAVE, sweet, pure-minded woman is the most terrific re- proach that exists on earth to the evil- doer and wicked man. It is as though the deaf blind God suddenly made Himself manifest, — as though He not only heard and saw, but with His voice thundered loud accusation ! Many of us, — I speak of men, — cling to bad women, and give them our ungrudging admiration — and why ? Because they help us to be vile ! — because they laugh at our vices and foster them, — and we love them for that ! But good women ! — I tell you that such are often left loveless and alone, because they will not degrade themselves to our brute-level. We want toys, not angels ! — puppets, not queens ! But all the same, when WORM- WOOD To be nobler Good women 8o Cfie 15eautie0 of WORM- WOOD the angel or the queen passes us by with the serene scorn of our base pas- sions written in her clear calm eyes, we shrink and are ashamed,- only for a moment's space ! -aye ! if Common- \ ^ 7" E are supposed to be living in place days ^y ^^^^ commou - place days, — though truly this is one of the greatest errors the modern wise-acres ever in- dulged in. Never was there a period in which there was so much fatal com- plexity of thought and discussion; never was there a time in which men and women were so prone to analyse them- selves and the world they inhabit with more pitiless precision and fastidious doubt and argument ; and this tendency creates such strange new desires, such subtle comparisons, such marvellous accuracy of perception, such discontent, such keen yet careless valuation of life at its best, that more romances and tragedies are enacted now than Sopho- cles ever dreamed of. cparie Corelli WORLDS unexplored, universes unguessed, mysteries un- fathomed ! all vague and vast and inexplicable, yet surely full of promise. There must be Something — something behind the veil, when spirits are stripped of mortality and front each other unafraid ! There must be Love — there should be Peace ! God ! in Thy unknown deeps of Life, let me lose myself and find^-Thee ! 8i THE SILEXCE OF THE MAHA- KAJAH Something ANY man who has won for himself 1\. the treasure of a good woman's entire love, should do his level best to make himself as worthy of it as he can. THREE WISE INIEN OF GOTHAM THE next morning I heard that the child was dead. She had died in the night, and with her last fluttering breath she had tried to sing her little fairy song. And so the human "Zephyr" had floated away MADEM- OISELLE ZEPHYR 82 Cl)e T5eautie0 of MADEM- OISELLE ZEPHYR "Zephyr" from the stage of this life, where fairyland is only the dream of poets, to the unknown country — to the " Island valley of Avilion, Where never vi^incl blows loudly." Thinking of her as I write, I almost fancy 1 see a delicate sprite on rain- bow pinions flitting past me ; I almost hear the sweet child-voice rendered powerful and pure by the breath of immortality, singing softly — ' ' Follow me soon Back to my palace behind the moon, Where I reign for ever and ever ! " And who shall assert that she does not reign in some distant glorified region — the little queen of a chosen court of child -angels for whom this present world sorrowful ? was too hard and ANGEL'S WICKED- NESS from CAMEOS' " "P) LEASE, sir, I want to leave the L class, sir ! " " You want to leave the class, Johnnie Coleman ! " echoed the clergy- man. " What for ? " aparie CorelH 83 " Please, sir, 'cos Angel's gone, sir ! " and Johnnie stumped his way to the front and showed himself — a small, bright, elfish -looking boy of about twelve. " Yer see, sir, I can't anyways promise not to speak to Angel, sir ; she's my gal ! " A gurg- ling laugh of evident delight rippled along the class at Johnnie's bold avowal, but a stern look from Mr. Snawley rapidly checked this ebulh- tion of feeling. " Your gal ! " And the clergy- man repeated the words in a tone of shocked offence. "John Coleman, you surprise me ! " John Coleman, ragged, blue -eyed and dirty, seemed to care but little as to whether he surprised the Reverend Josiah or not, for he resumed the thread of his shameless argument with the most unblushing audacity. " Iss, sir. She's my gal, an' I'm her bloke. Lor' bless yer, sir! we've bin so fur years an' years — ivver since we wos babbies, sir. Yer see, sir, 'twouldn't do fur me to go agin Angel now — 'twouldn't be gentleman- like, sir ! " ANGEL'S WICKED- NESS from 'CAMEOS' "My gal' 84 ANGEL'S WICKED- NESS frovi 'CAMEOS' A true kniiiht C!)e 15eautie0 of Evidently John Coleman knew his code of chivalry by heart, though he was only a costermonger's apprentice, and was not to be moved by fear from any of the rules thereof, for, gathering courage instead of alarm from the amazed and utter speechlessness of wrath with which Mr. Snawley re- garded him, he proceeded to defend the cause of his absent ladye-love after the fashion of all true knights worthy of their nrmie. " I spec's Angel's hungry, sir. That's wot riles her wrong-like. Don't yer know, sir, what it is to 'ave a gnawin' in yer inside, sir ? Oh, it's orful bad, sir ! really 'tis, sir — makes yer 'ate everybody wot's got their stummicks full. An' when Angel gets a bit 'ere an' there, she gives it all to 'er father, sir, an' niver a mossul for 'erself ; an' now 'e's a going to 'is long 'ome, so they sez, an' it's 'ard on Angel any- ways, an' " "That will do!" burst out Mr. Snawley loudly, and suddenly inter- rupting the flow of Master Johnnie's eloquence, and glaring at him in majestic disdain : " You can go ! " Q^arie CorelU 85 " Iss, sir. Thank-ye, sir. Much obleeged, sir." And, with many a shuffle and grin, Johnnie departed cheerfully, apparently quite unconsci- ous of having committed any breach of good manners in the open declara- tion of his sentiments towards his " gal " and entirely unaware of the fact that, apart from the disgust his "vulgarity" had excited in the refined mind of the Reverend Josiah, he had actually caused the pale suggestion of a blush to appear on the yellow maiden cheek of Miss Powser ! Immoral John Coleman ! It is to be feared he was totally " un regenerate " — for once out of the schoolroom he never gave it or his pious teachers another thought, but, whooping and whistling care- lessly, started off at a run, intending to join Angel and comfort her as best he might, for her private and personal griefs as well as for her expulsion from the Bible-class. ANGEL'S WICKED- NESS frojii 'CAMEOS' 86 Cl)e lBeautie0 of TINY TRAMPS from 'CAMEOS' The idea of childhood T HE idea of childhood is generally associated in our minds with mirth, grace, and beauty. The fair- haired, blue-eyed treasures of proud and tender mothers; the plump, rosy little ones whose fresh young hearts know no sorrow save the sometimes ungratified longing for a new toy or new game — these are the fairy blossoms of our lives, for whom childhood really exists, and for whose dear sakes we think no sacrifice too great, no pain too wearisome, no work too heavy, so long as we can keep them in health, strength, and happiness, and ward off from their lives every shadow of suf- fering. And as we caress our own dimpled darlings, and listen to their merry prattling voices and their de- lightful laughter, we find it difficult to realise that there are other children in the world, born of the same great Mother Nature, who live on without even knowing that they are children, and who have "begun life" in the bitterest manner at a time when they can scarcely toddle; children to whom toys are inexplicable mys- teries, and for whom the bright Q^atie Cotelli 87 regions of fairy-land have never been unclosed. These poor little waifs and strays, no matter how young they are in years, are old — one might almost say they were born old — they are familiar with the dark and crooked paths of life, and the broad, shining, golden road of love, duty, wisdom, and peace has never been pointed out to their straying little feet. Homes for desti- tute children may and do exist, refuges and charities of all kinds are open to those who seek them ; and yet, in spite of all that is done, or is doing, poor child-wanderers walk the earth, and meet us in streets and country roads, clothed in rags, their pinched faces begrimed with dirt and tears, and their tiny voices attuned to the beggar's whine, while too often, alas ! their young hearts are already withered by the corroding influences of deceit and cunning. TINY TRAMPS from ' CAMEOS' Born old 88 SORROWS OF SATAN Honest beasts CJe QBeautie0 of .^N N exception? I?" — and he laughed bitterly. " Yes, you are right ; I am an exception among men perhaps, — but I am one with the beasts in honesty ! The lion does not assume the manners of the dove, — he loudly announces his own ferocity. The very cobra, stealthy though its movements be, evinces its meaning by a warning hiss or rattle. The hungry wolf's bay is heard far down the wind, intimidating the hurrying traveller among the wastes of snow. But man gives no clue to his intent — more mahgnant than the lion, more treacherous than the snake, more greedy than the wolf, he takes his fellow-man's hand in pretended friendship, and an hour later defames his character behind his back, — with a smiling face he hides a false and sel- fish heart — flinging his pigmy mockery at the riddle of the Universe, he stands gibing at God, feebly a-straddle on his own earth-grave — Heavens ! " — here he stopped short with a pas- sionate gesture — " What should the Eternities do with such a thankless, blind worm as he ! " a^atie CorcIIi 89 THOU knowest the trick of lining thy pouch with gold ! Twould be but a fool's error to wag thy tongue against this alien whom thou shelterest while thou dost charge him double fees for food and lodgment ! Go to ! Thou canst not judge of him fairly, — good ready money doth quickly purchase good opinion ! BARAB- BAS Ready money TO slay the innocent hath ever been man's delight. Doth he not trap the singing-birds, and draw his knife across the throat of the fawn ? Doth he not tear up the life of a blameless tree, and choke the breath of flowers in the grasp of his hand ? What would'st thou, thou meditative, black-browed son of Judea ? Physi- cally or morally, the innocent are alwa3^s slain in this world. No one believes in a pure body — still less do they believe in a pure soul. Pure soul and pure body are there in yonder thorn -crowned Monarch of many lands. Man's deiight 90 C|)e T5eautie0 of BARAB- BAS Cowards and men KNOWEST thou not that cowards and men are one and the same thing, most excellent Barabbas? Didst ever philosophise ? If not, why didst thou read Greek and Roman scrolls, and puzzle thy brain with the subtle wisdom of Egypt ? No man was ever persistently heroic, in small matters as well as great, — and famous deeds are ever done on impulse. Study thyself, — note thine own height and breadth, — thou hast so much bone and muscle and sinew, — 'tis a goodly frame, well knit together, and to all intents and purposes thou art Man. Nevertheless a glance from a woman's eyes, a smile on a woman's mouth, a word of persuasion or suggestion from a woman's tongue, can make thee steal and commit murder. Wherefore thou, Man, art also Coward. Too proud to rob, too merciful to slay, — this would be courage, and more than is in man. For men are pigmies, — they scuttle away in droves before a storm or the tremor of an earthquake — they are afraid for their lives. And what are their lives ? The lives of motes in a sunbeam, — of gnats in a mist of e@arie Corelli miasma, — nothing more. And they will never be anything more, till they learn how to make them valuable. And that lesson will never be mastered save by the few ! BARAB- BAS THERE is time to eat, time to steal, time to lie, time to murder, time to become a degradation to the very name of Man ; — but there is no time to pause and consider that after all our petty labours and selfish ambi- tions, this star on which we live be- longs, not to us, but to God, and that if He but willed it so, it could be blotted out of space in a second and never be missed, save perhaps for the one singular distinction that the Divine Christ dwelling upon it from birth to death, has made it sacred. Time (( 'T"^ O this end was I born, and for this end came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the Truth ! Every one that is of the Truth knoweth My voice." While He thus spoke, Pilate gazed upon A noble madman 92 CJ)e lBeautie0 of BARAB- BAS Pilate Him in solemn astonishment. Here was no traitor or criminal, but simply one of the world's noblest madmen ! More convincing than all the other accusations brought against Him by priests and people was His own un- qualified admission of folly. For who- soever sought to "bear witness unto the Truth " in a world kept up by lies, could not be otherwise than mad ! Had it not always been thus ? and would it not be always thus ? Had not the Athenian Socrates met his death nearly five hundred years agone for merely uttering the Truth ? Pilate, more instructed than the majority in Greek and Roman philosophy, knew that no fault was so reprehensible in all classes of society as simple plain- speaking ; it was almost safer to murder a man than tell the truth of him ! Thus thinking he gave a hope- less gesture of final abandonment to destiny ; and with an ironical bitter- ness he was scarcely conscious of, uttered the never - to - be - forgotten, never-to-be-answered query, "What is Truth ? " 0@atie Corelli 93 COMPASSION and interest for birds and animals and creeping of the wood and field often the otherwise selfish and cold-hearted ; and many a man has been known to love a dog when in human relationships he would willingly slander his friends or slay his brother. things distinguish BAR AB- BAS Love for animals OH, the horrible, horrible burden of recognised sin! — the dragging leaden weight that ties the immortal spirit down to grossness and materi- alism, when it would fain wing its way to the highest attainment ! — the crush- ing consciousness of being driven back into darkness out of light supernal ! of being thrust away, as it were, with loathing, out of the sight and know- ledge of the Divine ! Sin WHAT is past is past,"— he said gravely — "Thou canst never undo, Peter, what thou hast done, — and this falsehood of thine must needs be chronicled for all time as a token to prove a truth, — the A truth 94 Cf)e TBeautie^ of BARAB- BAS awful truth that often by one act, one word, man makes his destiny." Woman- hood HE who curses woman or despises her, must henceforth be himself despised and accursed. For now by woman's purity is the whole world redeemed, — by woman's tenderness and patience the cords of everlasting love are tied between this earth and highest heaven ! Truly the language of symbols is hid from thee, if thou canst curse woman, remembering that of woman thy Master was born into the world ! Were there a million treacherous women meriting thy curse, it matters little, — for from hencefor- w'ard Womanhood is rendered sacred in the sight of the Eternal, through Her whom now we call the Mother of the " Nazarene " ! History "^ I ^HOU sayest well, Petrus ; — X 'twere hard that Judas should be evermore accursed and thou ad- judged a true apostle ! Yet such things happen — for the world loves contrarys and falsifications of history, Q^arie Corelli 95 — and while perchance it takes a month to spread a He, it takes a hundred centuries to prove a truth ! BARAB- BAS " A LL men know what it is ; " repHed XX Barabbas drearil}^ — "A chok- ing of the breath, — a bHndness of the eyes, — darkness, silence, and an end !" " Nay, not an end, but a beginning ! " said Melchior, rising and confronting him, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm — "That choking of the breath, — that blindness of the eyes — these are the throes of birth, not death ! Even as the new-born child struggles for air, and cannot too suddenly endure the full unshaded light of day, — so does the new-born soul that struggles forth from out its fleshly womb, fight gaspingly for strength to take its first deep breathings-in of living glory ! A darkness and a silence, sayest thou ? Not so ! — a radiance and a music ! — a wondrous clamour of the angels' voices ringing out melodies aloft like harps in tune ! And of the spirit lately parted from the earth, they ask — ' What bringest thou ? What mes- sage dost thou bear ? Hast thou Death 96 Cf)e 15eautiei8f of BARAB- BAS made the sad world happier, wiser, fairer ? ' And over all, the deathless Voice of Marvel thunders : * Soul of a man ! What hast thou done ? ' And that great question must be met and answered, — and no Lie will serve ! " Mysteries T p thou dost Wait till thou caust X " comprehend " the mysteries of the Divine Will, thou wilt need to grope through «ons upon aeons of eternal wonder, living a thinking life through all, and even then not reach the inner secret. Comprehendest thou how the light finds its sure way to the dry seed in the depths of earth and causes it to fructify ? — or how, imprisoning itself within drops of water and grains of dust, it doth change these things of ordinary matter into diamonds which queens covet ? Thou art not able to " comprehend " these simplest facts of simple nature, — and nature being but the outward reflex of God's thought, how should'st thou understand the workings of His interior Spirit which is Himself in all ? Whether He create a world, or Q^arie Cotelli 97 breathe the hving Essence of His own Divinity into aerial atoms to be absorbed in flesh and blood, and born as Man of virginal Woman, He hath the power supreme to do such things, if such be His great pleasure. Talkest thou of miracles ? — thou art thyself a miracle, — thou livest in a miracle, — the whole world is a miracle, and exists in spite of thee ! Go thy ways, man ; search out truth in thine own fashion ; but if it should elude thee, blame not the truth which ever is, but thine own witlessness which cannot grasp it ! liARAB- BAS IF a woman does anything out of the common in the way of art or literature, she is immediately judged by men as being probably without tenderness, without permanence in her work, and certainly without personal beauty. Now, as far as tenderness goes, a woman who thinks, who has read much and has studied human life in its various wonderful and often sad aspects, is far more able to realise the rareness and the worth of true love THE MURDER OF DELICIA A woman's intellect 98 THE MURDER OF DELICIA Cfie 'Beautie0 of The woman thinker than the woman who has never thought or studied at all. She — the woman thinker — understands with full pathos the real necessity there is for being kind, patient, and forbearing one with the other, since at any moment Death may sever the closest ties and put an end to the happiest dreams ; and in her love — if she does love — there must needs be far more force, truth, and passion than in the light emotion of the^woman who lives for society alone, and flits from pleasure to pleasure like a kind of moth whose existence and feeling are but for a day. On the question of permanence in her work, she is the equal of man, as permanence in both ambition and attainment de- pends chiefly on temperament. A man's work or fame may be as un- stable as that of any weak woman if he himself is unstable in nature. But put man and woman together, — start them both equally with a firm will and a resoluteness of endeavour, the woman's intellect will frequently out- strip the man's. The reason of this is that she has a quicker instinct and finer impulses. a^arie CoteUi 99 IT is certain that the true intention of Woman's destiny has not yet been carried out. She is fighting to- wards it, — but, if I may venture to say so, she is using her weapons wildly and in various wrong directions. It is not by opposing herself to man that she can be his real helpmeet, neither is it by supporting him on her money, whether such money be earned or in- herited. She will never make a true man of him that way. And it is not by adopting his pastimes or aping his manners. It is by cultivating and cherishing to the utmost every sweet and sacred sentiment of womanhood ; every grace, every refinement, every beauty; by taking her share in the world's intellectual work with force, as well as with modesty, and by showing a faultless example of gentle reserve and delicate chastity. When she is like this, it is of course highly probable that she will be " murdered " often as "Delicia" was; but the death of many martyrs is necessary to the establishment of a new creed. When man begins to understand that woman is not meant to be a toy THE MURDER OF DELICIA Woman's destiny lOO Cfie T5eautie0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA or a drudge, but a comrade, — the closest, best, and truest that God has given him, — then the clouds will clear, and marriage will be a blessing instead of (as it too often proves) a curse ; and there will be few, if any, " Delicias " to be slain, inasmuch as there will be few men left, so unworthy of their manhood as to play coward and traitor to the women who trust them. Genius G ENIUS is a big thing," she said ; "I do not assume to possess it. But it is curious to see how very many quite ungifted men announce their claim to it, while in- dignantly denying all possibility of its endowment to women. However, one must have patience ; it will take some time to break men of their old savagery. For centuries they treated women as slaves and cattle ; it may take other centuries before they learn to treat them as their equals." Titles A HANDLE to one's name invari- Ix. ably attracts all the social "run- aways," in the same fashion that mischievous street-boys are attracted Q^atie Corelli to bang at a particularly ornate and glittering door-knocker and then scam- per off in hiding before any servant has time to answer the false summons. People who are of old and good family themselves think nothing of titles, but those who have neither good birth, breeding, nor education, attach a vast amount of importance to these placards of rank, and can never refrain from an awestricken expression of countenance when introduced to a duke, or with- hold the regulation "royalty-dip" when in the presence of some foreign "princess," who, as a matter of fact, has no right to " royalty " honours at all. LITERATURE can add honour to -^ the peerage, but the peerage can never add honour to Literature — not, at any rate, to what I understand as Literature. POWER!" rephed Delicia, clos- ing her small, white hand slowly and firmly, as though she held the sceptre of an empire in its grasp. " The power to make men and women lOI THE MURDER OF DELICIA Literature Power I02 Cbe 15eautie0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA think, hope, and achieve ; the power to draw tears from the eyes, smiles from the lips of thousands ; the power to make tyrants tremble, and unseat false judges in authority; the power to strip hypocrisy of its seeming fair disguise, and to brand liars with their name writ large for all the world to see I" Honesty The liver A DOG may be honest without offence to the world in general, but a man must never be honest, un- less he wishes to be considered a fool or a madman, or both. Y< OU should never ruffle the tem- per of a man who has liver complaint, Valdis," said Dr. Dalley, cheerfully, drawing his chair up to the table where the handsome actor still leaned. "All evil humours come from the troubles of that important organ, and I am sure, if I could only meet a would-be murderer in time, I could save him from the committal of his intended wicked deed in a dose — quite a small dose — of suitable medicine ! " ^arie CoreUi 103 " /^~^H men, what were you made V_y for ? " she demanded, half aloud. " To be masters of the planet ? Then surely j^our mastership should be characterised by truth and nobility, not vileness and fraud ! Surely God originally intended you for better things than to trample under your feet all the weak and helpless, to work ravage on the fairest scenes in nature, and to make miserable wrecks of all the women that love you ! Yes, Antinous, I can read in your sculp- tured face the supreme Egotism of manhood, an Egotism which fate will avenge in its own good time ! No wonder so few men are real Chris- tians ; it is too sublime and spiritual a creed for the male nature, which is a composition of wild beast and intel- lectual pagan. Now, what shall be my course of action ? Shall I, Delicia, seeing my husband in the mud, go down into the mud also ? Or shall 1 keep clean — not onl}' clean in body but clean in mind ? Clean from mean- ness, clean from falsehood, clean from spite, not only for his sake, but for the sake of my own self-respect ? THE MURDER OF DELICIA The egotism of manhood I04 CJie 15eautie0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA Shall I let things take their course until they culminate of themselves in the pre-ordained catastrophe that always follows evil ? Yes, I think I will ! Life after all is a shadow ; and love, what is it ? " She sighed and shuddered. " Less than a shadow, perchance ; but there is something in me which must outlast both life and love — something which is the real Delicia, who must hereafter answer to a Supreme Judge for the thoughts which have elevated or degraded her soul ! " Philosophy a I HAVE been reading philosophy," she answered him, with a tremu- lous little laugh. " Grim old cynics, both ancient and modern, who say that nothing lasts on earth, and that the human soul is made of such perishable stuff that it is always out-reaching one emotion after another and striving to attain the highest per- fection. If this be true, then even human love is poor and trifling com- pared to love divine ! " Her eyes darkened with intensity of feeling. " At least, so say some of our sage ^arie Corelli instructors ; and if it be indeed a fact that mortal things are but the passing shadow of immortal ones, it is natural enough that we should gradually out- live the temporal in our desire for the eternal." 105 THE MURDER OF DELICIA NO human being, perhaps, is quite so sore and miserable as a man who is born with the instincts of a gentleman and 3'et conducts himself like a cad. There are many such tramps of a decayed and d3'ing gen- tility amongst us — men with vague glimmerings of the ancient chivalry of their race lying dormant within them, who yet lack the force of will neces- sary to plan their lives resolutely out upon those old-fashioned but grand foundations known as truth and loyalty. Because it is " the thing" to talk slang, they pollute the noble English lan- guage with coarse expressions copied from stable conversation ; and because it is considered "swagger" to make love to other men's wives, they enter into the base form of vulgar intrigue almost as if it were a necessary point of dignity and an added grace to Tramps of gentility io6 THE MURDER OF DELICIA " Upper class" England C!)e lBeautie0 of manhood. If we admit that men are the superior and stronger set, what a piti- able thing it is to note how httle their moral forces assist in the elevation of woman, their tendency being to drag her down as low as possible ! If she be unwedded, man does his best to compromise her ; if he has married her, he frequently neglects her ; if she be another's wife, he frequently tries to injure her reputation. This is " modern " morality, exhibited to us in countless varying phases every day, detailed every morning and evening in our newspapers, witnessed over and over again through every " season's " festivities ; and this, combined with atheism, and an utter indifference as to the results of evil, is making of "upper class" England a something worse than pagan Rome was just before its fall. The safety of the country is with what we elect to call the " lower classes," who are educating themselves slowly but none the less surely ; but who, it must be remem- bered, are not yet free from savagery, — the splendid brute savagery which breaks out in all great nations when a^atie CorelU 107 aristocratic uncleanness and avarice have gone too far, — a savagery which threw itself panting and furious upon the treacherous Marie Antoinette of France, with her beauty, her wiciced wantonness, her thoughtless extrava- gance and luxury, and her cruel con- tempt for the poor, and never loosened its fangs till it had dragged her haughty head to the level of the scaffold, there to receive the just punishment of sel- fishness and pride. For punishment must fall sooner or later on every wilful misuser of life's opportunities. THE MURDER OF DELICIA MEN are judged to be excellent logicians, superseding in that particular branch of knowledge all the feeble efforts of womankind ; and un- doubtedly they have a very peculiar form of arguing out excuses for their own vices, which must be acknowledged as exceedingly admirable. Logicians NOTHING can well be more fool- ish than to estimate a person's mental capacity by his or her outward bearing. A rapier is a thin, light weapon, but it can nevertheless kill ; Outward bearing io8 Ct)e T5eautie0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA a nightingale has nothing to boast of in its plumage, but its singing surpasses that of all the other birds in creation. Only the purely barbaric mind judges things or individuals by surface appear- ances. Poor love T)OOR Lovc ! Poor Httle, delicate X moth ! How soon a coarse touch will kill it — kill it hopelessly, so that it will never rise again ! It is the only passion I think we possess that once dead, can never be resuscitated. Am- bition is perennial, but Love ! — it is the aloe flower that blossoms but once in a hundred years. A hero " '^/OU poor Httlc woHiau ! " she i said pityingly. "What a mis- take you have made of it ! You fancied that out of all the world of men you had won for yourself a hero, — a man whose nature was noble, whose dis- position was chivalrous, whose ten- derness and truth were never to be doubted ! A protector and defender who, had any one presumed to slander you, would have struck the liar across the mouth and made him answer for aparie CotelU his insolence. Instead of this wonder- ful Marc Antony or Theseus of your imagination, what have you got ? Don't be afraid, poor Delicia ! I see your mouth trembling and your eyes filling with foolish tears — now that's all non- sense, you know ! You must not shrink from the truth, my dear; and if God has chosen to take up your beautiful idol and break it in your sight, you must not begin to argue about it, or try to pick up the pieces and tell God He is wrong. Courage, Delicia ! Face it out ! What did you think you had won for a sure certainty out of all the flitting pageant of this world's illusions? A true heart, — a faithful lover, — and, as before said, a kind of Theseus in looks and bravery ! But even Theseus deserted Ariadne, and in this case your hero has deserted you. Only what you have to realise, you deluded crea- ture, is this — that he is not a hero at all — that he never was a hero ! That is the hardest part, isn't it ? To think that the god you have worshipped is no more than an * officer and gentle- man,' as a great many ' officers and gentlemen ' go, who lives comfortably 109 THE MURDER OF DELICIA Not a hero I lO THE MURDER OF DELICIA Conscience Cf)e TBeautie0 of on your earnings, and spends the sur- plus money on the race-course, music- halls, and — La Marina ! Put off your rose-coloured spectacles, my dear, and look at him as he is. Don't be a little coward about it ! Yes, I know what you are saying over and over again in your own heart ; it is the old story, ' I loved him, oh, I loved him ! ' like the burden of a sentimental song. Of course you loved him, — how deeply, — how passionately, — how dearly, — you will never, never be able to express, even to yourself" IT is strange, but nevertheless true, despite all our latter-day efforts at the reasoning away of sentiment, that conscience is still so very much alive in some of us, that when a man of birth and good-breeding has, according to his own stock-phrase for indulgence in vicious amusements, " seen life," by spending his time in low company, he is frequently moved by a strong reac- tion, — so powerful as almost to create nausea, and put him in a very bad and petulant humour. Q^atie Cotelli 1 1 1 OH just law! Made by men for themselves and their own con- venience ! The " cruelty " which robs an innocent woman of love, of con- fidence, of happiness at one blow, has no existence, according to masculine justice. She may have to endure wilful neglect, and to be the witness of the open intimacy of her husband with other women; but provided he does not beat her, or otherwise physi- cally ill-use her, and continues to live with her in apparent union, while all the while she shrinks from his touch and resents his companionship as an outrage, she cannot be separated from him. {N.B. — That is, by divorce). THE MURDER OF DELICIA A just law 1 (( w HAT is it you have lost ? " demanded the inward voice. " Love ? But what do you understand by love ? The transitory gleam of light that falls upon a fleck of foam and passes ? Or the eternal glory of a deepening day whose summer splen- dours shall not cease ? All that is of the earth must perish ; choose there- Lost I 12 CJ)e T5eauties of THE MURDER OF DELICIA fore that which is of Heaven, and for which you were destined when God kindled first within your woman's soul the fires of aspiration and en- deavour ! Nature is unrolled before you like an open book ; humanity, with all its sufferings, needs, and hopes, is here for you to help and comfort ; self is a Nothing in what you have to do; your earthly good, your earthly love, your earthly hopes are as the idle wind in the countings of eternity ! Sail by the compass of the Spirit of God within you; and haply out of darkness, light shall come ! " Alone I T is so hard ! " she murmured. " So hard for a woman to be quite alone in the world ! To work on, solitary, wearing a bitter laurel- crown that makes one's brow ache ; to be deprived, for no fault of one's own, of all the kisses and endear- ments so freely bestowed on foolish, selfish, ungrateful, and frequently un- chaste women — to be set apart in the cold Courts of Fame, — a white statue, with frozen lips and eyes staring down e^arie Corelli 113 the illimitable ways of Death — Oh God ! is not an hour of love worth all this chill renown ! " THE MURDER OF DELICIA NOTORIETY is a warm, noisy thing — personified, it is like a fat, comfortable woman who comes into your rooms perspiring, laughing, talk- ing, with all the gossip of the town at her tongue's end, who folds you in her arms whether you like it or not, and tells you you are a "dear," and wants to know where you get your gowns made and what you had for dinner — the very essence of broad and vulgar good humour ! Fame is like a great white angel, who points you up to a cold, sparkling, solitary mountain-top away from the world, and bids you stay there alone, with the chill stars shining down on you. And people look up at you and pass ; you are too far off for the clasp of friendship ; you are too isolated for the caress of love ; and your enemies, unable to touch you, stare in- solently, smile, and cry aloud, ' So you have climbed to the summit at last ! Well, much good may it do you ! Stay Notoriety H 114 Cf)e 15eautie0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA Life there, live there, and die there, as you must, alone for ever ! " E IFE at best is such a little thing !" she said. " One wonders some- times what it is all for ! You see crowds of men and women rushing hither and thither, building this thing, destroying that, scheming, contriving, studying, fretting, working, courting, marrying, bringing up their children, and it is quite appalling to think that the same old road has been travelled over and over again since the very begin- ning ! All through the Ptolemies and the Caesars, — imagine ! Exactly the same old monotonous course of human living and dying ! What a waste it seems ! Optimists say we have pro- gressed ; but then are we sure of that? And then one wants to know where the progression leads to ; if we are going forward, what is the ' forward ? ' Myself, I think the great charm of life is love ; without love life is really almost valueless, and surely not worth the trouble of preserving." Q^atie Corelli 115 THE vultures of society can never understand any one loving the sweet savour of truth ; they only scent carrion. No man is true in their estimation, no woman pure ; and chastity is so far from being pleasing to them that they will not even be- lieve it exists ! THE MURDER OF DELICIA Vultures A HANDLE to one's name is a poor thing in comparison to the position of genius ; and that the great- est emperor ever crowned is less re- nowned throughout the nations than plain William Shakespeare, is as it should be, and serves as a witness of the eternal supremacy of truth and justice amid a world of shams. Genius IN the strange motley we call society, one of the chief rules is that if you know a truth you must never say it ; you must say something else, as near a lie as possible. For example, if you are aware, and everybody else is aware, that a lady of exalted title has outraged, or is outraging, every sense of decency and order in her social and private life, you must always say she In society ii6 Cte T5eautie0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA is one of the purest and most innocent creatures living. Of course, if she is a nobody, without rank at all, you are at liberty to give her poor name over to the dogs of slander to rend at will ; but if she is a countess or a duchess, you must entirely condone her vulgar vices. Think of her title ! Think of her family connections ! Think of the manner in which her influence might be brought to bear on some little matter in which you personally have an interest. Man THERE is no degradation that can befall a woman which man will not excuse and condone; equally there is no elevation or honour she can win which he will not grudge and oppose with all the force of his nature ! For man loves to hold a strangulation-grip on the neck of all creation, woman included ; and the idea that woman should suddenly wrench herself out of his grasp and refuse to be either trapped like a hare, hunted like a fox, or shot like a bird, is a strange, new, and dis- agreeable experience for him. And very naturally he clings to the slave type of womanhood, and encourages the breed Q^atie Corellt of those who are wilhng to become dancers and toys of his "harem," for, if all women were to rise to the height of their true and capable dignity, where should he go to for his so-called "fun?" WOMEN who will not become as dirt under a man's foot, to be trodden on first, then kicked aside, are generally termed " unsexed " be- cause they will not lower themselves to the man's brute level. Nothing is more unnatural from a man's point of view than that a woman should have brains, — and with those brains make money and position often superior to his, and at any rate manage to be in- dependent of him. What men prefer is that their wives should be the slaves of their humour, and receive a five-pound note with deep thankful- ness whenever they can get it, shut- ting their eyes to the fact that people like " Marina " get twenty pounds to their five from the same quarter. HONESTY is an ordinary quality in dogs, but it is exceptional in men. Dogs love and are faithful ; 117 THE MURDER OF DELICIA 'Unsexed' Dogs and men ii8 Cl)e 'Beautte0 of THE MURDER OF DELICIA A strange world men desire, and with possession are faithless ! Yet men, so they say, are higher in the scale of creation than dogs. I do not understand this. If truth, fidelity, and devotion are virtues, then dogs are superior to men ; if selfishness, cunning, and hypocrisy are virtues, then men are certainly superior to dogs ! I cannot argue it out, being only a dog myself; but to me it seems a strange world." And truly it is a strange world to many of us, though perhaps the strangest and most incom- prehensible part of the whole mystery is the perpetual sacrifice of the good to the bad, and the seeming continual triumph of conventional lies over central truths. But, after all, that triumph is only "seeming"; and the martyrdom of life and love endured by thousands of patiently - working, self-denying women will bring its own reward in the Hereafter, as well as its own terrific vengeance on the heads of the callous egotists among men who have tortured tender souls on the rack, or burnt them in the fire, making "living torches" of them, to throw light upon the wicked deeds done in the vast Q^arie Corelli arena of Sensualism and Materialism. Not a tear, not a heart-throb of one pure woman wronged shall escape the eyes of Eternal Justice, or fail to bring punishment upon the wrong-doer ! This we may believe, — this we must believe, — else God Himself would be a demon and the world His Hell. IN the days when there were no rail- ways, and the immortal Byron wrote his "Childe Harold," it was cus- tomary to rate personal inconvenience lightly ; the beautiful or historic scene was the attraction for the traveller, and not the arrangements made for his special form of digestive apparatus. Byron could sleep on the deck of a sailing vessel wrapped in his cloak and feel none the worse for it ; his well-braced mind and aspiring spirit soared above all bodily discomforts; his thoughts were engrossed with the mighty teachings of time; he was able to lose himself in glorious reveries on the lessons of the past and the possi- 119 THE MURDER OF DELICIA ZISKA Byron I20 CJ)e QBeautie^ of ziSKA bilities of the future ; the attitude of the inspired Thinker as well as Poet was his, and a crust of bread and cheese served him as sufficiently on his journeys among the then unspoilt valleys and mountains of Switzerland as the warm, greasy, indigestible fare of the elaborate table-cTJwtes at Lucerne and Interlaken serve us now. But we, in our " superior " condition, pooh- pooh the Byronic spirit of indifference to events and scorn of trifles, — we say it is " melodramatic," completely for- getting that our attitude towards our- selves and things in general is one of most pitiable bathos. Nature NATURE neither idealises nor transfigures itself; it is simply Nature and no more. Matter uncon- trolled by Spirit is anything but ideal. Egypt " T) ART of your face is veiled. That is a cruelty to us all ! " She waived the compliment aside with a light gesture. ^arie CorelU 121 I T was the fashion " she said. Egypt, in ancient " Love in those old days was not what it is now, — one glance, one smile was suf- ficient to set the soul on fire and draw another soul towards it to con- sume together in the suddenly kindled flame ! And women veiled their faces in youth, lest they should be deemed too prodigal of their charms ; and in age they covered themselves still more closely, in order not to affront the Sun- God's fairness by their wrinkles." SOCIETY is founded upon Cloth — i.e.^ man does adapt his man- ners very much to suit his clothes ; and as the costume of the days of Louis Quinze or Louis Seize inspired graceful deportment and studied cour- tesy to women, so does the costume of our nineteenth century inspire brusque demeanour and curt forms of speech, which, however sincere, are not flattering to the fair sex. YOU overhear persons talking and you listen. Very well. It may chance that you hear yourself ZISKA The veil Clothes Listening 122 Cfte 'Beautie0 of zisKA abused. What then ? Nothing can be so good for you as such abuse ; the instruction given is twofold : it warns you against foes whom you have perhaps considered friends, and it tones down any overweening con- ceit you may have had concerning your own importance or abiUty. Listen to everything if you are wise — I always do. A creed IN my creed — for I have a creed — it is beheved that those who have never taken the sacred name of Christ to their hearts, as a talisman of com- fort and support, are left as it were in the vortex of uncertainties, tossed to and fro among many whirling and mighty forces, and haunted for ever by the phantoms of their own evil deeds. Till they learn and accept the truth of their marvellous Redemption, they are the prey of wicked spirits who tempt and lead them on to divers miseries. But when the great Name of Him who died upon the Cross is acknowledged, then it is found to be of that transfiguring nature which turns evil to good, and sometimes makes aparie Corelli 123 angels out of fiends. Nevertheless, for the hardened reprobate and unbe- liever the old laws suffice. ZISKA GREAT heavens ! Among what terrific unseen forces we live ! And in exact proportion to every man's arrogant denial of the " Divinity that shapes our ends," so will be measured out to him the revelation of the in- visible. Unseen forces ALL history from the very begin- ly. ning is like a wonderful chain in which no link is ever really broken, and in which every part fits closely to the other part, — though why the chain should exist at all is a mystery we cannot solve. History THE past is as much a part of your present identity as the present, and the future, too, lies in you in embryo. The mystery of one man's life contains all mysteries, and if we could only understand it from its very beginnings we should find out the cause of all things, and the ultimate intention of creation. Mysteries 124 Q^atie Corelli ZISKA Woman's love LOVE — love that endures silently _v and faithfully through the stress of trouble and the passing of years — love which sacrifices everything to the beloved and never changes or falters, — this is a divine passion vi^hich seldom or never sanctifies and inspires the life of a man. Women are not made of such base material ; their love invari- ably springs first from the Ideal, not the Sensual, and if afterwards it de- velops into the sensual, it is through the rough and coarsening touch of man alone. Spirit N OT the Body but the Spirit is the central secret of life, — not deeds, but thoughts, evolve creation. Death ? That is a name merely ; there is no death, — only a change into some other form of existence. Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &' Co. Edinburgh &= London ^1 DATE DUE ■ 1 ^ t ^^ 000 600 835 3 1210 00330 7996 • Ml M.*fM ^ 'A\ 4|> il A J II W *^- " D.' J: y: