CHAPTER III
To speak in the style of the period, the meeting just
described took place in the year of Rome 747. The month was December, and
winter reigned over all the regions east of the Mediterranean. Such as ride
upon the desert in this season go not far until smitten with a keen appetite.
The company under the little tent were not exceptions to the rule. They were
hungry, and ate heartily; and, after the wine, they talked.
"To a wayfarer in a strange land nothing is so
sweet as to hear his name on the tongue of a friend," said the Egyptian,
who assumed to be president of the repast. "Before us lie many days of companionship.
It is time we knew each other. So, if it be agreeable, he who came last shall
be first to speak."
Then, slowly at first, like one watchful of himself,
the Greek began:
"What I have to tell, my brethren, is so strange
that I hardly know where to begin or what I may with propriety speak. I do not
yet understand myself. The most I am sure of is that I am doing a Master's
will, and that the service is a constant ecstasy. When I think of the purpose I
am sent to fulfil, there is in me a joy so inexpressible that I know the will
is God's."
The good man paused, unable to proceed, while the
others, in sympathy with his feelings, dropped their gaze.
"Far to the west of this," he began again,
"there is a land which may never be forgotten; if only because the world
is too much its debtor, and because the indebtedness is for things that bring
to men their purest pleasures. I will say nothing of the arts, nothing of
philosophy, of eloquence, of poetry, of war: O my brethren, hers is the glory
which must shine forever in perfected letters, by which He we go to find and
proclaim will be made known to all the earth. The land I speak of is Greece. I
am Gaspar, son of Cleanthes the Athenian.
"My people," he continued, "were given
wholly to study, and from them I derived the same passion. It happens that two
of our philosophers, the very greatest of the many, teach, one the doctrine of
a Soul in every man, and its Immortality; the other the doctrine of One God,
infinitely just. From the multitude of subjects about which the schools were
disputing, I separated them, as alone worth the labor of solution; for I
thought there was a relation between God and the soul as yet unknown. On this
theme the mind can reason to a point, a dead, impassable wall; arrived there, all
that remains is to stand and cry aloud for help. So I did; but no voice came to
me over the wall. In despair, I tore myself from the cities and the
schools."
At these words a grave smile of approval lighted the
gaunt face of the Hindoo.
"In the northern part of my country - in
Thessaly," the Greek proceeded to say, "there is a mountain famous as
the home of the gods, where Theus, whom my countrymen believe supreme, has his
abode; Olympus is its name. Thither I betook myself. I found a cave in a hill where
the mountain, coming from the west, bends to the southeast; there I dwelt,
giving myself up to meditation - no, I gave myself up to waiting for what every
breath was a prayer - for revelation. Believing in God, invisible yet supreme,
I also believed it possible so to yearn for him with all my soul that he would
take compassion and give me answer."
"And he did - he did!" exclaimed the
Hindoo, lifting his hands from the silken cloth upon his lap.
"Hear me, brethren," said the Greek,
calming himself with an effort. "The door of my hermitage looks over an
arm of the sea, over the Thermaic Gulf. One day I saw a man flung overboard
from a ship sailing by. He swam ashore. I received and took care of him. He was
a Jew, learned in the history and laws of his people; and from him I came to
know that the God of my prayers did indeed exist; and had been for ages their
lawmaker, ruler, and king. What was that but the Revelation I dreamed of? My
faith had not been fruitless; God answered me!"
"As he does all who cry to him with such
faith," said the Hindoo.
"But, alas!" the Egyptian added, "how
few are there wise enough to know when he answers them!"
"That was not all," the Greek continued.
"The man so sent to me told me more. He said the prophets who, in the ages
which followed the first revelation, walked and talked with God, declared he
would come again. He gave me the names of the prophets, and from the sacred
books quoted their very language. He told me, further, that the second coming
was at hand - was looked for momentarily in Jerusalem."
The Greek paused, and the brightness of his
countenance faded.
"It is true," he said, after a little - "it
is true the man told me that as God and the revelation of which he spoke had
been for the Jews alone, so it would be again. He that was to come should be
King of the Jews. 'Had he nothing for the rest of the world?' I asked. 'No,'
was the answer, given in a proud voice -'No, we are his chosen people.' The
answer did not crush my hope. Why should such a God limit his love and
benefaction to one land, and, as it were, to one family? I set my heart upon
knowing. At last I broke through the man's pride, and found that his fathers
had been merely chosen servants to keep the Truth alive, that the world might
at last know it and be saved. When the Jew was gone, and I was alone again, I
chastened my soul with a new prayer - that I might be permitted to see the King
when he was come, and worship him. One night I sat by the door of my cave
trying to get nearer the mysteries of my existence, knowing which is to know
God; suddenly, on the sea below me, or rather in the darkness that covered its
face, I saw a star begin to burn; slowly it arose and drew nigh, and stood over
the hill and above my door, so that its light shone full upon me. I fell down,
and slept, and in my dream I heard a voice say:
"'O Gaspar! Thy faith hath conquered! Blessed
art thou! With two others, come from the uttermost parts of the earth, thou
shalt see Him that is promised, and be a witness for him, and the occasion of
testimony in his behalf. In the morning arise, and go meet them, and keep trust
in the Spirit that shall guide thee.'
"And in the morning I awoke with the Spirit as a
light within me surpassing that of the sun. I put off my hermit's garb, and dressed
myself as of old. From a hiding-place I took the treasure which I had brought
from the city. A ship went sailing past. I hailed it, was taken aboard, and
landed at Antioch. There I bought the camel and his furniture. Through the
gardens and orchards that enamel the banks of the Orontes, I journeyed to
Emesa, Damascus, Bostra, and Philadelphia; thence hither. And so, O brethren,
you have my story. Let me now listen to you."
CHAPTER IV
The Egyptian and the Hindoo looked at each other; the
former waved his hand; the latter bowed, and began:
"Our brother has spoken well. May my words be as
wise."
He broke off, reflected a moment, then resumed:
"You may know me, brethren, by the name of
Melchior. I speak to you in a language which, if not the oldest in the world,
was at least the soonest to be reduced to letters - I mean the Sanscrit of
India. I am a Hindoo by birth. My people were the first to walk in the fields
of knowledge, first to divide them, first to make them beautiful. Whatever may
hereafter befall, the four Vedas must live, for they are the primal fountains
of religion and useful intelligence. From them were derived the Upa-Vedas,
which, delivered by Brahma, treat of medicine, archery, architecture, music,
and the four-and-sixty mechanical arts; the Ved-Angas, revealed by inspired
saints, and devoted to astronomy, grammar, prosody, pronunciation, charms and
incantations, religious rites and ceremonies; the Up-Angas, written by the sage
Vyasa, and given to cosmogony, chronology, and geography; therein also are the
Ramayana and the Mahabharata, heroic poems, designed for the perpetuation of
our gods and demi-gods. Such, O brethren, are the Great Shastras, or books of
sacred ordinances. They are dead to me now; yet through all time they will serve
to illustrate the budding genius of my race. They were promises of quick
perfection. Ask you why the promises failed? Alas! the books themselves closed
all the gates of progress. Under pretext of care for the creature, their
authors imposed the fatal principle that a man must not address himself to
discovery or invention, as Heaven had provided him all things needful. When
that condition became a sacred law, the lamp of Hindoo genius was let down a
well, where ever since it has lighted narrow walls and bitter waters.
"These allusions, brethren, are not from pride,
as you will understand when I tell you that the Shastras teach a Supreme God
called Brahm; also, that the Puranas, or sacred poems of the Up-Angas, tell us
of Virtue and Good Works, and of the Soul. So, if my brother will permit the
saying" - the speaker bowed deferentially to the Greek - "ages before
his people were known, the two great ideas, God and the Soul, had absorbed all
the forces of the Hindoo mind. In further explanation let me say that Brahm is
taught, by the same sacred books, as a Triad - Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Of
these, Brahma is said to have been the author of our race; which, in course of
creation, he divided into four castes. First, he peopled the worlds below and
the heavens above; next, he made the earth ready for terrestrial spirits; then
from his mouth proceeded the Brahman caste, nearest in likeness to himself,
highest and noblest, sole teachers of the Vedas, which at the same time flowed
from his lips in finished state, perfect in all useful knowledge. From his arms
next issued the Kshatriya, or warriors; from his breast, the seat of life, came
the Vaisya, or producers - shepherds, farmers, merchants; from his foot, in
sign of degradation, sprang the Sudra, or serviles, doomed to menial duties for
the other classes - serfs, domestics, laborers, artisans. Take notice, further,
that the law, so born with them, forbade a man of one caste becoming a member
of another; the Brahman could not enter a lower order; if he violated the laws
of his own grade, he became an outcast, lost to all but outcasts like
himself."
At this point, the imagination of the Greek, flashing
forward upon all the consequences of such a degradation, overcame his eager
attention, and he exclaimed, "In such a state, O brethren, what mighty
need of a loving God!"
"Yes," added the Egyptian, "of a
loving God like ours."
The brows of the Hindoo knit painfully; when the
emotion was spent, he proceeded, in a softened voice.
"I was born a Brahman. My life, consequently,
was ordered down to its least act, its last hour. My first draught of
nourishment; the giving me my compound name; taking me out the first time to
see the sun; investing me with the triple thread by which I became one of the
twice-born; my induction into the first order - were all celebrated with sacred
texts and rigid ceremonies. I might not walk, eat, drink, or sleep without
danger of violating a rule. And the penalty, O brethren, the penalty was to my
soul! According to the degrees of omission, my soul went to one of the heavens
- Indra's the lowest, Brahma's the highest; or it was driven back to become the
life of a worm, a fly, a fish, or a brute. The reward for perfect observance
was Beatitude, or absorption into the being of Brahm, which was not existence
as much as absolute rest."
The Hindoo gave himself a moment's thought;
proceeding, he said: "The part of a Brahman's life called the first order
is his student life. When I was ready to enter the second order - that is to
say, when I was ready to marry and become a householder - I questioned
everything, even Brahm; I was a heretic. From the depths of the well I had
discovered a light above, and yearned to go up and see what all it shone upon.
At last - ah, with what years of toil! - I stood in the perfect day, and beheld
the principle of life, the element of religion, the link between the soul and
God - Love!"
The shrunken face of the good man kindled visibly,
and he clasped his hands with force. A silence ensued, during which the others
looked at him, the Greek through tears. At length he resumed:
"The happiness of love is in action; its test is
what one is willing to do for others. I could not rest. Brahm had filled the
world with so much wretchedness. The Sudra appealed to me, so did the countless
devotees and victims. The island of Ganga Lagor lies where the sacred waters of
the Ganges disappear in the Indian Ocean. Thither I betook myself. In the shade
of the temple built there to the sage Kapila, in a union of prayers with the
disciples whom the sanctified memory of the holy man keeps around his house, I
thought to find rest. But twice every year came pilgrimages of Hindoos seeking
the purification of the waters. Their misery strengthened my love. Against its
impulse to speak I clenched my jaws; for one word against Brahm or the Triad or
the Shastras would doom me; one act of kindness to the outcast Brahmans who now
and then dragged themselves to die on the burning sands - a blessing said, a
cup of water given - and I became one of them, lost to family, country,
privileges, caste. The love conquered! I spoke to the disciples in the temple;
they drove me out. I spoke to the pilgrims; they stoned me from the island. On
the highways I attempted to preach; my hearers fled from me, or sought my life.
In all India, finally, there was not a place in which I could find peace or
safety - not even among the outcasts, for, though fallen, they were still
believers in Brahm. In my extremity, I looked for a solitude in which to hide
from all but God. I followed the Ganges to its source, far up in the Himalayas.
When I entered the pass at Hurdwar, where the river, in unstained purity, leaps
to its course through the muddy lowlands, I prayed for my race, and thought
myself lost to them forever. Through gorges, over cliffs, across glaciers, by
peaks that seemed star-high, I made my way to the Lang Tso, a lake of
marvellous beauty, asleep at the feet of the Tise Gangri, the Gurla, and the
Kailas Parbot, giants which flaunt their crowns of snow everlastingly in the
face of the sun. There, in the centre of the earth, where the Indus, Ganges,
and Brahmapootra rise to run their different courses; where mankind took up
their first abode, and separated to replete the world, leaving Balk, the mother
of cities, to attest the great fact; where Nature, gone back to its primeval
condition, and secure in its immensities, invites the sage and the exile, with
promise of safety to the one and solitude to the other - there I went to abide
alone with God, praying, fasting, waiting for death."
Again the voice fell, and the bony hands met in a
fervent clasp.
"One night I walked by the shores of the lake,
and spoke to the listening silence, 'When will God come and claim his own? Is
there to be no redemption?' Suddenly a light began to glow tremulously out on
the water; soon a star arose, and moved towards me, and stood overhead. The
brightness stunned me. While I lay upon the ground, I heard a voice of infinite
sweetness say, 'Thy love hath conquered. Blessed art thou, O son of India! The
redemption is at hand. With two others, from far quarters of the earth, thou
shalt see the Redeemer, and be a witness that he hath come. In the morning
arise, and go meet them; and put all thy trust in the Spirit which shall guide
thee.'
"And from that time the light has stayed with
me; so I knew it was the visible presence of the Spirit. In the morning I
started to the world by the way I had come. In a cleft of the mountain I found
a stone of vast worth, which I sold in Hurdwar. By Lahore, and Cabool, and
Yezd, I came to Ispahan. There I bought the camel, and thence was led to
Bagdad, not waiting for caravans. Alone I traveled, fearless, for the Spirit
was with me, and is with me yet. What glory is ours, O brethren! We are to see
the Redeemer - to speak to him - to worship him! I am done."
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