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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4384-h.zip b/4384-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0a83e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/4384-h.zip diff --git a/4384-h/4384-h.htm b/4384-h/4384-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6345021 --- /dev/null +++ b/4384-h/4384-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1962 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Lost Word, by Henry Van Dyke +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost Word, by Henry Van Dyke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lost Word + A Christmas Legend of Long Ago + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Posting Date: July 26, 2009 [EBook #4384] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 20, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST WORD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE LOST WORD +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A Christmas Legend of Long Ago +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +HENRY VAN DYKE +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +New York +<BR> +MDCCCXCVIII +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND HAMILTON W. MABIE" +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE POVERTY OF HERMAS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">A CHRISTMAS LOSS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">RICHES WITHOUT REST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE POVERTY OF HERMAS +</H3> + +<P> +"COME down, Hermas, come down! The night is past. It is time to be +stirring. Christ is born to-day. Peace be with you in His name. Make +haste and come down!" +</P> + +<P> +A little group of young men were standing in a street of Antioch, in +the dusk of early morning, fifteen hundred years ago. It was a class +of candidates who had nearly finished their two years of training +for the Christian church. They had come to call their fellow-student +Hermas from his lodging. +</P> + +<P> +Their voices rang out cheerily through the cool air. They were full +of that glad sense of life which the young feel when they awake and +come to rouse one who is still sleeping. There was a note of +friendly triumph in their call, as if they were exulting +unconsciously in having begun the adventure of the new day before +their comrade. +</P> + +<P> +But Hermas was not asleep. He had been waking for hours, and the +dark walls of his narrow lodging had been a prison to his restless +heart. A nameless sorrow and discontent had fallen upon him, and he +could find no escape from the heaviness of his own thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +There is a sadness of youth into which the old cannot enter. It +seems to them unreal and causeless. But it is even more bitter and +burdensome than the sadness of age. There is a sting of resentment +in it, a fever of angry surprise that the world should so soon be a +disappointment, and life so early take on the look of a failure. It +has little reason in it, perhaps, but it has all the more weariness +and gloom, because the man who is oppressed by it feels dimly that +it is an unnatural and an unreasonable thing, that he should be +separated from the joy of his companions, and tired of living before +he has fairly begun to live. +</P> + +<P> +Hermas had fallen into the very depths of this strange self-pity. He +was out of tune with everything around him. He had been thinking, +through the dead, still night, of all that he had given up when he +left the house of his father, the wealthy pagan Demetrius, to join +the company of the Christians. Only two years ago he had been one of +the richest young men in Antioch. Now he was one of the poorest. And +the worst of it was that, though he had made the choice willingly +and accepted the sacrifice with a kind of enthusiasm, he was already +dissatisfied with it. +</P> + +<P> +The new life was no happier than the old. He was weary of vigils and +fasts, weary of studies and penances, weary of prayers and sermons. +He felt like a slave in a treadmill. He knew that he must go on. His +honour, his conscience, his sense of duty, bound him. He could not +go back to the old careless pagan life again; for something had +happened within him which made a return impossible. Doubtless he had +found the true religion, but he had found it only as a task and a +burden; its joy and peace had slipped away from him. +</P> + +<P> +He felt disillusioned and robbed. He sat beside his hard little +couch, waiting without expectancy for the gray dawn of another empty +day, and hardly lifting his head at the shouts of his friends. +</P> + +<P> +"Come down, Hermas, you sluggard! Come down! It is Christmas morn. +Awake and be glad with us!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am coming," he answered listlessly; "only have patience a moment. +I have been awake since midnight, and waiting for the day." +</P> + +<P> +"You hear him!" said his friends one to another. "How he puts us all +to shame! He is more watchful, more eager, than any of us. Our +master, John the Presbyter, does well to be proud of him. He is the +best man in our class. When he is baptized the church will get a +strong member." +</P> + +<P> +While they were talking the door opened and Hermas stepped out. He +was a figure to be remarked in any company—tall, broad-shouldered, +straight-hipped, with a head proudly poised on the firm column of +the neck, and short brown curls clustering over the square forehead. +It was the perpetual type of vigourous and intelligent young manhood, +such as may be found in every century among the throngs of ordinary +men, as if to show what the flower of the race should be. But the +light in his dark blue eyes was clouded and uncertain; his smooth +cheeks were leaner than they should have been at twenty; and there +were downward lines about his mouth which spoke of desires unsatisfied +and ambitions repressed. He joined his companions with brief +greetings,—a nod to one, a word to another,—and they passed together +down the steep street. +</P> + +<P> +Overhead the mystery of daybreak was silently transfiguring the sky. +The curtain of darkness had lifted softly upward along the edge of +the horizon. The ragged crests of Mount Silpius were outlined with +pale rosy light. In the central vault of heaven a few large stars +twinkled drowsily. The great city, still chiefly pagan, lay more +than half asleep. But multitudes of the Christians, dressed in white +and carrying lighted torches in their hands, were hurrying toward +the Basilica of Constantine to keep the latest holy day of the +church, the new festival of the birthday of their Master. +</P> + +<P> +The vast, bare building was soon crowded, and the younger converts, +who were not yet permitted to stand among the baptized, found it +difficult to come to their appointed place between the first two +pillars of the house, just within the threshold. There was some +good-humoured pressing and jostling about the door; but the +candidates pushed steadily forward. +</P> + +<P> +"By your leave, friends, our station is beyond you. Will you let us +pass? Many thanks." +</P> + +<P> +A touch here, a courteous nod there, a little patience, a little +persistence, and at last they stood in their place. Hermas was +taller than his companions; he could look easily over their heads +and survey the white sea of people stretching away through the +columns, under the shadows of the high roof, as the tide spreads on +a calm day into the pillared cavern of Staffa, quiet as if the ocean +hardly dared to breathe. The light of many flambeaux fell, in +flickering, uncertain rays, over the assembly. At the end of the +vista there was a circle of clearer, steadier radiance. Hermas could +see the bishop in his great chair, surrounded by the presbyters, the +lofty desks on either side for the readers of the Scripture, the +communion-table and the table of offerings in the middle of the +church. +</P> + +<P> +The call to prayer sounded down the long aisle. Thousands of hands +were joyously lifted in the air, as if the sea had blossomed into +waving lilies, and the "Amen" was like the murmur of countless +ripples in an echoing place. +</P> + +<P> +Then the singing began, led by the choir of a hundred trained voices +which the Bishop Paul had founded in Antioch. Timidly, at first, the +music felt its way, as the people joined with a broken and uncertain +cadence, the mingling of many little waves not yet gathered into +rhythm and harmony. Soon the longer, stronger billows of song rolled +in, sweeping from side to side as the men and the women answered in +the clear antiphony. +</P> + +<P> +Hermas had often been carried on those "Tides of music's golden sea +Setting toward eternity." But to-day his heart was a rock that stood +motionless. The flood passed by and left him unmoved. +</P> + +<P> +Looking out from his place at the foot of the pillar, he saw a man +standing far off in the lofty bema. Short and slender, wasted by +sickness, gray before his time, with pale cheeks and wrinkled brow, +he seemed at first like a person of no significance—a reed shaken +in the wind. But there was a look in his deep-set, poignant eyes, as +he gathered all the glances of the multitude to himself, that belied +his mean appearance and prophesied power. Hermas knew very well who +it was: the man who had drawn him from his father's house, the +teacher who was instructing him as a son in the Christian faith, the +guide and trainer of his soul—John of Antioch, whose fame filled +the city and began to overflow Asia, and who was called already +Chrysostom, the golden-mouthed preacher. +</P> + +<P> +Hermas had felt the magic of his eloquence many a time; and to-day, +as the tense voice vibrated through the stillness, and the sentences +moved onward, growing fuller and stronger, bearing argosies of +costly rhetoric and treasures of homely speech in their bosom, and +drawing the hearts of men with a resistless magic, Hermas knew that +the preacher had never been more potent, more inspired. +</P> + +<P> +He played on that immense congregation as a master on an instrument. +He rebuked their sins, and they trembled. He touched their sorrows, +and they wept. He spoke of the conflicts, the triumphs, the glories +of their faith, and they broke out in thunders of applause. He +hushed them into reverent silence, and led them tenderly, with the +wise men of the East, to the lowly birthplace of Jesus. +</P> + +<P> +"Do thou, therefore, likewise leave the Jewish people, the troubled +city, the bloodthirsty tyrant, the pomp of the world, and hasten to +Bethlehem, the sweet house of spiritual bread. For though thou be +but a shepherd, and come hither, thou shalt behold the young Child +in an inn. Though thou be a king, and come not hither, thy purple +robe shall profit thee nothing. Though thou be one of the wise men, +this shall be no hindrance to thee. Only let thy coming be to honour +and adore, with trembling joy, the Son of God, to whose name be +glory, on this His birthday, and forever and forever." +</P> + +<P> +The soul of Hermas did not answer to the musician's touch. The +strings of his heart were slack and soundless; there was no response +within him. He was neither shepherd, nor king, nor wise man, only an +unhappy, dissatisfied, questioning youth. He was out of sympathy +with the eager preacher, the joyous hearers. In their harmony he had +no part. Was it for this that he had forsaken his inheritance and +narrowed his life to poverty and hardship? What was it all worth? +</P> + +<P> +The gracious prayers with which the young converts were blessed and +dismissed before the sacrament sounded hollow in his ears. Never had +he felt so utterly lonely as in that praying throng. He went out +with his companions like a man departing from a banquet where all +but he had been fed. +</P> + +<P> +"Farewell, Hermas," they cried, as he turned from them at the door. +But he did not look back, nor wave his hand. He was alone already in +his heart. +</P> + +<P> +When he entered the broad Avenue of the Colonnades, the sun had +already topped the eastern hills, and the ruddy light was streaming +through the long double row of archways and over the pavements of +crimson marble. But Hermas turned his back to the morning, and +walked with his shadow before him. +</P> + +<P> +The street began to swarm and whirl and quiver with the motley life +of a huge city: beggars and jugglers, dancers and musicians, gilded +youths in their chariots, and daughters of joy looking out from +their windows, all intoxicated with the mere delight of living and +the gladness of a new day. The pagan populace of Antioch—reckless, +pleasure-loving, spendthrift—were preparing for the Saturnalia. +But all this Hermas had renounced. He cleft his way through the +crowd slowly, like a reluctant swimmer weary of breasting the tide. +</P> + +<P> +At the corner of the street where the narrow, populous Lane of the +Camel-drivers crossed the Colonnades, a story-teller had bewitched a +circle of people around him. It was the same old tale of love and +adventure that many generations have listened to; but the lively +fancy of the hearers lent it new interest, and the wit of the +improviser drew forth sighs of interest and shouts of laughter. +</P> + +<P> +A yellow-haired girl on the edge of the throng turned, as Hermas +passed, and smiled in his face. She put out her hand and caught him +by the sleeve. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay," she said, "and laugh a bit with us. I know who you are—the +son of Demetrius. You must have bags of gold. Why do you look so +black? Love is alive yet." +</P> + +<P> +Hermas shook off her hand, but not ungently. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what you mean," he said. "You are mistaken in me. I am +poorer than you are." +</P> + +<P> +But as he passed on, he felt the warm touch of her fingers through +the cloth on his arm. It seemed as if she had plucked him by the +heart. +</P> + +<P> +He went out by the Western Gate, under the golden cherubim that the +Emperor Titus had stolen from the ruined Temple of Jerusalem and +fixed upon the arch of triumph. He turned to the left, and climbed +the hill to the road that led to the Grove of Daphne. +</P> + +<P> +In all the world there was no other highway as beautiful. It wound +for five miles along the foot of the mountains, among gardens and +villas, plantations of myrtles and mulberries, with wide outlooks +over the valley of Orontes and the distant, shimmering sea. +</P> + +<P> +The richest of all the dwellings was the House of the Golden +Pillars, the mansion of Demetrius. He had won the favor of the +apostate Emperor Julian, whose vain efforts to restore the worship +of the heathen gods, some twenty years ago, had opened an easy way +to wealth and power for all who would mock and oppose Christianity. +Demetrius was not a sincere fanatic like his royal master; but he +was bitter enough in his professed scorn of the new religion, to +make him a favourite at the court where the old religion was in +fashion. He had reaped a rich reward of his policy, and a strange +sense of consistency made him more fiercely loyal to it than if it +had been a real faith. He was proud of being called "the friend of +Julian"; and when his son joined himself to the Christians, and +acknowledged the unseen God, it seemed like an insult to his +father's success. He drove the boy from his door and disinherited +him. +</P> + +<P> +The glittering portico of the serene, haughty house, the repose of +the well-ordered garden, still blooming with belated flowers, seemed +at once to deride and to invite the young outcast plodding along the +dusty road. "This is your birthright," whispered the clambering +rose-trees by the gate; and the closed portals of carven bronze +said: "You have sold it for a thought—a dream." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A CHRISTMAS LOSS +</H3> + +<P> +HERMAS found the Grove of Daphne quite deserted. There was no sound +in the enchanted vale but the rustling of the light winds chasing +each other through the laurel thickets, and the babble of +innumerable streams. Memories of the days and nights of delicate +pleasure that the grove had often seen still haunted the bewildered +paths and broken fountains. At the foot of a rocky eminence, crowned +with the ruins of Apollo's temple, which had been mysteriously +destroyed by fire just after Julian had restored and reconsecrated +it, Hermas sat down beside a gushing spring, and gave himself up to +sadness. +</P> + +<P> +"How beautiful the world would be, how joyful, how easy to live in, +without religion. These questions about unseen things, perhaps about +unreal things, these restraints and duties and sacrifices—if I +were only free from them all, and could only forget them all, then I +could live my life as I pleased, and be happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" said a quiet voice at his back. +</P> + +<P> +He turned, and saw an old man with a long beard and a threadbare +cloak (the garb affected by the pagan philosophers) standing behind +him and smiling curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"How is it that you answer that which has not been spoken?" said +Hermas; "and who are you that honour me with your company?" +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive the intrusion," answered the stranger; "it is not ill +meant. A friendly interest is as good as an introduction." +</P> + +<P> +"But to what singular circumstance do I owe this interest?" +</P> + +<P> +"To your face," said the old man, with a courteous inclination. +"Perhaps also a little to the fact that I am the oldest inhabitant +here, and feel as if all visitors were my guests, in a way." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you, then, one of the keepers of the grove? And have you given +up your work with the trees to take a holiday as a philosopher?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. The robe of philosophy is a mere affectation, I must +confess. I think little of it. My profession is the care of altars. +In fact, I am that solitary priest of Apollo whom the Emperor Julian +found here when he came to revive the worship of the grove, some +twenty years ago. You have heard of the incident?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Hermas, beginning to be interested; "the whole city must +have heard of it, for it is still talked of. But surely it was a +strange sacrifice that you brought to celebrate the restoration of +Apollo's temple?" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean the goose? Well, perhaps it was not precisely what the +emperor expected. But it was all that I had, and it seemed to me not +inappropriate. You will agree to that if you are a Christian, as I +guess from your dress." +</P> + +<P> +"You speak lightly for a priest of Apollo." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, as for that, I am no bigot. The priesthood is a professional +matter, and the name of Apollo is as good as any other. How many +altars do you think there have been in this grove?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know." +</P> + +<P> +"Just four-and-twenty, including that of the martyr Babylas, whose +ruined chapel you see just beyond us. I have had something to do +with most of them in my time. They—are transitory. They give +employment to care-takers for a while. But the thing that lasts, and +the thing that interests me, is the human life that plays around +them. The game has been going on for centuries. It still disports +itself very pleasantly on summer evenings through these shady walks. +Believe me, for I know. Daphne and Apollo were shadows. But the +flying maidens and the pursuing lovers, the music and the dances, +these are the realities. Life is the game, and the world keeps it up +merrily. But you? You are of a sad countenance for one so young and +so fair. Are you a loser in the game?" +</P> + +<P> +The words and tone of the speaker fitted Hermas' mood as a key fits +the lock. He opened his heart to the old man, and told him the story +of his life: his luxurious boyhood in his father's house; the +irresistible spell which compelled him to forsake it when he heard +John's preaching of the new religion; his lonely year with the +anchorites among the mountains; the strict discipline in his +teacher's house at Antioch; his weariness of duty, his distaste for +poverty, his discontent with worship. +</P> + +<P> +"And to-day," said he, "I have been thinking that I am a fool. My +life is swept as bare as a hermit's cell. There is nothing in it but +a dream, a thought of God, which does not satisfy me." +</P> + +<P> +The singular smile deepened on his companion's face. "You are ready, +then," he suggested, "to renounce your new religion and go back to +that of your father?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; I renounce nothing, I accept nothing. I do not wish to think +about it. I only wish to live." +</P> + +<P> +"A very reasonable wish, and I think you are about to see its +accomplishment. Indeed, I may even say that I can put you in the way +of securing it. Do you believe in magic?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have told you already that I do not know whether I believe in +anything. This is not a day on which I care to make professions of +faith. I believe in what I see. I want what will give me pleasure." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said the old man, soothingly, as he plucked a leaf from the +laurel-tree above them and dipped it in the spring, "let us dismiss +the riddles of belief. I like them as little as you do. You know +this is a Castalian fountain. The Emperor Hadrian once read his +fortune here from a leaf dipped in the water. Let us see what this +leaf tells us. It is already turning yellow. How do you read that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wealth," said Hermas, laughing, as he looked at his mean garments. +</P> + +<P> +"And here is a bud on the stem that seems to be swelling. What is +that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pleasure," answered Hermas, bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"And here is a tracing of wreaths upon the surface. What do you make +of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"What you will," said Hermas, not even taking the trouble to look. +"Suppose we say success and fame?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said the stranger; "it is all written here. I promise that +you shall enjoy it all. But you do not need to believe in my +promise. I am not in the habit of requiring faith of those whom I +would serve. No such hard conditions for me! There is only one thing +that I ask. This is the season that you Christians call the +Christmas, and you have taken up the pagan custom of exchanging +gifts. Well, if I give to you, you must give to me. It is a small +thing, and really the thing you can best afford to part with: a +single word—the name of Him you profess to worship. Let me take +that word and all that belongs to it entirely out of your life, so +that you shall never need to hear it or speak it again. You will be +richer without it. I promise you everything, and this is all I ask +in return. Do you consent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I consent," said Hermas, mocking. "If you can take your price, +a word, you can keep your promise, a dream." +</P> + +<P> +The stranger laid the long, cool, wet leaf softly across the young +man's eyes. An icicle of pain darted through them; every nerve in +his body was drawn together there in a knot of agony. +</P> + +<P> +Then all the tangle of pain seemed to be lifted out of him. A cool +languor of delight flowed back through every vein, and he sank into +a profound sleep. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL +</H3> + +<P> +THERE is a slumber so deep that it annihilates time. It is like a +fragment of eternity. Beneath its enchantment of vacancy, a day +seems like a thousand years, and a thousand years might well pass as +one day. +</P> + +<P> +It was such a sleep that fell upon Hermas in the Grove of Daphne. An +immeasurable period, an interval of life so blank and empty that he +could not tell whether it was long or short, had passed over him +when his senses began to stir again. The setting sun was shooting +arrows of gold under the glossy laurel-leaves. He rose and stretched +his arms, grasping a smooth branch above him and shaking it, to make +sure that he was alive. Then he hurried back toward Antioch, +treading lightly as if on air. +</P> + +<P> +The ground seemed to spring beneath his feet. Already his life had +changed, he knew not how. Something that did not belong to him had +dropped away; he had returned to a former state of being. He felt as +if anything might happen to him, and he was ready for anything. He +was a new man, yet curiously familiar to himself—as if he had +done with playing a tiresome part and returned to his natural state. +He was buoyant and free, without a care, a doubt, a fear. +</P> + +<P> +As he drew near to his father's house he saw a confusion of servants +in the porch, and the old steward ran down to meet him at the gate. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, we have been seeking you everywhere. The master is at the +point of death, and has sent for you. Since the sixth hour he calls +your name continually. Come to him quickly, lord, for I fear the +time is short." +</P> + +<P> +Hermas entered the house at once; nothing could amaze him to-day. +His father lay on an ivory couch in the inmost chamber, with +shrunken face and restless eyes, his lean fingers picking +incessantly at the silken coverlet. +</P> + +<P> +"My son!" he murmured; "Hermas, my son! It is good that you have +come back to me. I have missed you. I was wrong to send you away. +You shall never leave me again. You are my son, my heir. I have +changed everything. Hermas, my son, come nearer—close beside me. +Take my hand, my son!" +</P> + +<P> +The young man obeyed, and, kneeling by the couch, gathered his +father's cold, twitching fingers in his firm, warm grasp. +</P> + +<P> +"Hermas, life is passing—long, rich, prosperous; the last sands, +I—cannot stay them. My religion, a good policy—Julian was my +friend. But now he is gone—where? My soul is empty—nothing +beyond—very dark—I am afraid. But you know something better. +You found something that made you willing to give up your life for +it—it must have been almost like dying—yet you were happy. +What was it you found? See, I am giving you everything. I have +forgiven you. Now forgive me. Tell me, what is it? Your secret, your +faith—give it to me before I go." +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of this broken pleading a strange passion of pity and +love took the young man by the throat. His voice shook a little as +he answered eagerly: +</P> + +<P> +"Father, there is nothing to forgive. I am your son; I will gladly +tell, you all that I know. I will give you the secret of faith. +Father, you must believe with all your heart, and soul, and strength +in—" +</P> + +<P> +Where was the word—the word that he had been used to utter night +and morning, the word that had meant to him more than he had ever +known? What had become of it? +</P> + +<P> +He groped for it in the dark room of his mind. He had thought he +could lay his hand upon it in a moment, but it was gone. Some one +had taken it away. Everything else was most clear to him: the terror +of death; the lonely soul appealing from his father's eyes; the +instant need of comfort and help. But at the one point where he +looked for help he could find nothing; only an empty space. The word +of hope had vanished. He felt for it blindly and in desperate haste. +</P> + +<P> +"Father, wait! I have forgotten something—it has slipped away +from me. I shall find it in a moment. There is hope—I will tell +you presently—oh, wait!" +</P> + +<P> +The bony hand gripped his like a vice; the glazed eyes opened wider. +"Tell me," whispered the old man; "tell me quickly, for I must go." +</P> + +<P> +The voice sank into a dull rattle. The fingers closed once more, and +relaxed. The light behind the eyes went out. +</P> + +<P> +Hermas, the master of the House of the Golden Pillars, was keeping +watch by the dead. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD +</H3> + +<P> +THE break with the old life was as clean as if it had been cut with +a knife. Some faint image of a hermit's cell, a bare lodging in a +back street of Antioch, a class-room full of earnest students, +remained in Hermas' memory. Some dull echo of the voice of John the +Presbyter, and the murmured sound of chanting, and the murmur of +great congregations, still lingered in his ears; but it was like +something that had happened to another person, something that he had +read long ago, but of which he had lost the meaning. +</P> + +<P> +His new life was full and smooth and rich—too rich for any sense +of loss to make itself felt. There were a hundred affairs to busy +him, and the days ran swiftly by as if they were shod with winged +sandals. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing needed to be considered, prepared for, begun. Everything was +ready and waiting for him. All that he had to do was to go on with +it. The estate of Demetrius was even greater than the world had +supposed. There were fertile lands in Syria which the emperor had +given him, marble-quarries in Phrygia, and forests of valuable +timber in Cilicia; the vaults of the villa contained chests of gold +and silver; the secret cabinets in the master's room were full of +precious stones. The stewards were diligent and faithful. The +servants of the magnificent household rejoiced at the young master's +return. His table was spread; the rose-garland of pleasure was woven +for his head, and his cup was already filled with the spicy wine of +power. +</P> + +<P> +The period of mourning for his father came at a fortunate moment, to +seclude and safeguard him from the storm of political troubles and +persecutions that fell upon Antioch after the insults offered by the +mob to the imperial statues in the year 887. The friends of +Demetrius, prudent and conservative persons, gathered around Hermas +and made him welcome to their circle. Chief among them was Libanius, +the sophist, his nearest neighbour, whose daughter Athenais had been +the playmate of Hermas in the old days. +</P> + +<P> +He had left her a child. He found her a beautiful woman. What +transformation is so magical, so charming, as this? To see the +uncertain lines of-youth rounded into firmness and symmetry, to +discover the half-ripe, merry, changing face of the girl matured +into perfect loveliness, and looking at you with calm, clear, +serious eyes, not forgetting the past, but fully conscious of the +changed present—this is to behold a miracle in the flesh. +</P> + +<P> +"Where have you been, these two years?" said Athenais, as they +walked together through the garden of lilies where they had so often +played. +</P> + +<P> +"In a land of tiresome dreams," answered Hermas; "but you have +wakened me, and I am never going back again." +</P> + +<P> +It was not to be supposed that the sudden disappearance of Hermas +from among his former associates could long remain unnoticed. At +first it was a mystery. There was a fear, for two or three days, +that he might be lost. Some of his more intimate companions +maintained that his devotion had led him out into the desert to join +the anchorites. But the news of his return to the House of the +Golden Pillars, and of his new life as its master, filtered quickly +through the gossip of the city. +</P> + +<P> +Then the church was filled with dismay and grief and reproach. +Messengers and letters were sent to Hermas. They disturbed him a +little, but they took no hold upon him. It seemed to him as if the +messengers spoke in a strange language. As he read the letters there +were words blotted out of the writing which made the full sense +unintelligible. +</P> + +<P> +His old companions came to reprove him for leaving them, to warn him +of the peril of apostasy, to entreat him to return. It all sounded +vague and futile. They spoke as if he had betrayed or offended some +one; but when they came to name the object of his fear—the one +whom he had displeased, and to whom he should return—he heard +nothing; there was a blur of silence in their speech. The clock +pointed to the hour, but the bell did not strike. At last Hermas +refused to see them any more. +</P> + +<P> +One day John the Presbyter stood in the atrium. Hermas was +entertaining Libanius and Athenais in the banquet-hall. When the +visit of the Presbyter was announced, the young master loosed a +collar of gold and jewels from his neck, and gave it to his scribe. +</P> + +<P> +"Take this to John of Antioch, and tell him it is a gift from his +former pupil—as a token of remembrance, or to spend for the poor +of the city. I will always send him what he wants, but it is idle +for us to talk together any more. I do not understand what he says. +I have not gone to the temple, nor offered sacrifice, nor denied his +teaching. I have simply forgotten. I do not think about those things +any longer. I am only living. A happy man wishes him all happiness +and farewell." +</P> + +<P> +But John let the golden collar fall on the marble floor. "Tell your +master that we shall talk together again, after all," said he, as he +passed sadly out of the hall. +</P> + +<P> +The love of Athenais and Hermas was like a tiny rivulet that sinks +out of sight in a cavern, but emerges again as a bright and brimming +stream. The careless comradery of childhood was mysteriously changed +into a complete companionship. +</P> + +<P> +When Athenais entered the House of the Golden Pillars as a bride, +all the music of life came with her. Hermas called the feast of her +welcome "the banquet of the full chord." Day after day, night after +night, week after week, month after month, the bliss of the home +unfolded like a rose of a thousand leaves. When a child came to +them, a strong, beautiful boy, worthy to be the heir of such a +house, the heart of the rose was filled with overflowing fragrance. +Happiness was heaped upon happiness. Every wish brought its own +accomplishment. Wealth, honour, beauty, peace, love—it was an +abundance of felicity so great that the soul of Hermas could hardly +contain it. +</P> + +<P> +Strangely enough, it began to press upon him, to trouble him with +the very excess of joy. He felt as if there were something yet +needed to complete and secure it all. There was an urgency within +him, a longing to find some outlet for his feelings, he knew not +how—some expression and culmination of his happiness, he knew not +what. +</P> + +<P> +Under his joyous demeanour a secret fire of restlessness began to +burn—an expectancy of something yet to come which should put the +touch of perfection on his life, He spoke of it to Athenais, as they +sat together, one summer evening, in a bower of jasmine, with their +boy playing at their feet. There had been music in the garden; but +now the singers and lute-players had withdrawn, leaving the master +and mistress alone in the lingering twilight, tremulous with +inarticulate melody of unseen birds. There was a secret voice in the +hour seeking vainly for utterance—a word waiting to be spoken at +the centre of the charm. +</P> + +<P> +"How deep is our happiness, my beloved!" said Hermas; "deeper than +the sea that slumbers yonder, below the city. And yet I feel it is +not quite full and perfect. There is a depth of joy that we have not +yet known—a repose of happiness that is still beyond us. What is +it? I have no superstitious fears, like the king who cast his +signet-ring into the sea because he dreaded that some secret +vengeance would fall on his unbroken good fortune. That was an idle +terror. But there is something that oppresses me like an invisible +burden. There is something still undone, unspoken, unfelt—something +that we need to complete everything. Have you not felt it, too? Can +you not lead me to it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to his face; "I, too, have +felt it, Hermas, this burden, this need, this unsatisfied longing. I +think I know what it means. It is gratitude—the language of the +heart, the music of happiness. There is no perfect joy without +gratitude. But we have never learned it, and the want of it troubles +us. It is like being dumb with a heart full of love. We must find +the word for it, and say it together. Then we shall be perfectly +joined in perfect joy. Come, my dear lord, let us take the boy with +us, and give thanks." +</P> + +<P> +Hermas lifted the child in his arms, and turned with Athenais into +the depth of the garden. There was a dismantled shrine of some +forgotten fashion of worship half hidden among the luxuriant +flowers. A fallen image lay beside it, face downward in the grass. +They stood there, hand in hand, the boy drowsily resting on his +father's shoulder—a threefold harmony of strength and beauty and +innocence. +</P> + +<P> +Silently the roseate light caressed the tall spires of the +cypress-trees; silently the shadows gathered at their feet; silently +the crystal stars looked out from the deepening arch of heaven. The +very breath of being paused. It was the hour of culmination, the +supreme moment of felicity waiting for its crown. The tones of +Hermas were clear and low as he began, half speaking and half +chanting, in the rhythm of an ancient song: +</P> + +<P> +"Fair is the world, the sea, the sky, the double kingdom of day and +night, in the glow of morning, in the shadow of evening, and under +the dripping light of stars. +</P> + +<P> +"Fairer still is life in our breasts, with its manifold music and +meaning, with its wonder of seeing and hearing and feeling and +knowing and being. +</P> + +<P> +"Fairer and still more fair is love, that draws us together, mingles +our lives in its flow, and bears them along like a river, strong and +clear and swift, rejecting the stars in its bosom. +</P> + +<P> +"Wide is our world; we are rich; we have all things. Life is +abundant within us—a measureless deep. Deepest of all is our +love, and it longs to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, thou final word! Come, thou crown of speech! Come, thou charm +of peace! Open the gates of our hearts. Lift the weight of our joy +and bear it upward. +</P> + +<P> +"For all good gifts, for all perfect gifts, for love, for life, for +the world, we praise, we bless, we thank—" +</P> + +<P> +As a soaring bird, struck by an arrow, falls headlong from the sky, +so the song of Hermas fell. At the end of his flight of gratitude +there was nothing—a blank, a hollow space. +</P> + +<P> +He looked for a face, and saw a void. He sought for a hand, and +clasped vacancy. His heart was throbbing and swelling with passion; +the bell swung to and fro within him, beating from side to side as +if it would burst; but not a single note came from it. All the +fulness of his feeling, that had risen upward like a living +fountain, fell back from the empty sky, as cold as snow, as hard as +hail, frozen and dead. There was no meaning in his happiness. No one +had sent it to him. There was no one to thank for it. His felicity +was a closed circle, a wall of eternal ice. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us go back," he said sadly to Athenais; "the child is heavy +upon my shoulder. We will lay him to sleep, and go into the library. +The air grows chilly. We were mistaken. The gratitude of life is +only a dream. There is no one to thank." +</P> + +<P> +And in the garden it was already night. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RICHES WITHOUT REST +</H3> + +<P> +NO outward change came to the House of the Golden Pillars. +Everything moved as smoothly, as delicately, as prosperously, as +before. But inwardly there was a subtle, inexplicable +transformation. A vague discontent—a final and inevitable sense +of incompleteness, overshadowed existence from that night when +Hermas realized that his joy could never go beyond itself. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning the old man whom he had seen in the Grove of +Daphne, but never since, appeared mysteriously at the door of the +house, as if he had been sent for, and entered, to dwell there like +an invited guest. +</P> + +<P> +Hermas could not but make him welcome, and at first he tried to +regard him with reverence and affection as the one through whom +fortune had come. But it was impossible. There was a chill in the +inscrutable smile of Marcion, as he called himself, that seemed to +mock at reverence. He was in the house as one watching a strange +experiment—tranquil, interested, ready to supply anything that +might be needed for its completion, but thoroughly indifferent to +the feelings of the subject; an anatomist of life, looking curiously +to see how long it would continue, and how it would behave, after +the heart had been removed. +</P> + +<P> +In his presence Hermas was conscious of a certain irritation, a +resentful anger against the calm, frigid scrutiny of the eyes that +followed him everywhere, like a pair of spies, peering out over the +smiling mouth and the long white beard. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you look at me so curiously?" asked Hermas, one morning, as +they sat together in the library. "Do you see anything strange in +me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," answered Marcion; "something familiar." +</P> + +<P> +"And what is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"A singular likeness to a discontented young man that I met some +years ago in the Grove of Daphne." +</P> + +<P> +"But why should that interest you? Surely it was to be expected." +</P> + +<P> +"A thing that we expect often surprises us when we see it. Besides, +my curiosity is piqued. I suspect you of keeping a secret from me." +</P> + +<P> +"You are jesting with me. There is nothing in my life that you do +not know. What is the secret?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing more than the wish to have one. You are growing tired of +your bargain. The game wearies you. That is foolish. Do you want to +try a new part?" +</P> + +<P> +The question was like a mirror upon which one comes suddenly in a +half-lighted room, A quick illumination falls on it, and the +passer-by is startled by the look of his own face. +</P> + +<P> +"You are right," said Hermas. "I am tired. We have been going on +stupidly in this house, as if nothing were possible but what my +father had done before me. There is nothing original in being rich, +and well fed, and well dressed. Thousands of men have tried it, and +have not been very well satisfied. Let us do something new. Let us +make a mark in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"It is well said," nodded the old man; "you are speaking again like +a man after my own heart. There is no folly but the loss of an +opportunity to enjoy a new sensation." +</P> + +<P> +From that day Hermas seemed to be possessed with a perpetual haste, +an uneasiness that left him no repose. The summit of life had been +attained, the highest possible point of felicity. Henceforward the +course could only be at a level—perhaps downward. It might be +brief; at the best it could not be very long. It was madness to lose +a day, an hour. That would be the only fatal mistake: to forfeit +anything of the bargain that he had made. He would have it, and hold +it, and enjoy it all to the full. The world might have nothing +better to give than it had already given; but surely it had many +things that were new to bestow upon him, and Marcion should help him +to find them. +</P> + +<P> +Under his learned counsel the House of the Golden Pillars took on a +new magnificence. Artists were brought from Corinth and Rome and +Byzantium to adorn it with splendour. Its fame glittered around the +world. Banquets of incredible luxury drew the most celebrated guests +into its triclinium, and filled them with envious admiration. The +bees swarmed and buzzed about the golden hive. The human insects, +gorgeous moths of pleasure and greedy flies of appetite, parasites +and flatterers and crowds of inquisitive idlers, danced and +fluttered in the dazzling light that surrounded Hermas. +</P> + +<P> +Everything that he touched prospered. He bought a tract of land in +the Caucasus, and emeralds were discovered among the mountains. He +sent a fleet of wheat-ships to Italy, and the price of grain doubled +while it was on the way. He sought political favour with the +emperor, and was rewarded with the governorship of the city. His +name was a word to conjure with. +</P> + +<P> +The beauty of Athenais lost nothing with the passing seasons, but +grew more perfect, even under the inexplicable shade of +dissatisfaction that sometimes veiled it as a translucent cloud that +passes before the full moon. "Fair as the wife of Hermas" was a +proverb in Antioch; and soon men began to add to it, "Beautiful as +the son of Hermas"; for the child developed swiftly in that +favouring clime. At nine years of age he was straight and strong, +firm of limb and clear of eye. His brown head was on a level with +his father's heart. He was the jewel of the House of the Golden +Pillars; the pride of Hermas, the new Fortunatus. +</P> + +<P> +That year another drop of success fell into his brimming cup. His +black Numidian horses, which he had been training for three years +for the world-renowned chariot-races of Antioch, won the victory +over a score of rivals. Hermas received the prize carelessly from +the judge's hands, and turned to drive once more around the circus, +to show himself to the people. He lifted the eager boy into the +chariot beside him to share his triumph. +</P> + +<P> +Here, indeed, was the glory of his life—this matchless son, his +brighter counterpart carved in breathing ivory, touching his arm, +and balancing himself proudly on the swaying floor of the chariot. +As the horses pranced around the ring, a great shout of applause +filled the amphitheatre, and thousands of spectators waved their +salutations of praise: "Hail, fortunate Hermas, master of success! +Hail, little Hermas, prince of good luck!" +</P> + +<P> +The sudden tempest of acclamation, the swift fluttering of +innumerable garments in the air, startled the horses. They dashed +violently forward, and plunged upon the bits. The left rein broke. +They swerved to the right, swinging the chariot sideways with a +grating noise, and dashing it against the stone parapet of the +arena. In an instant the wheel was shattered. The axle struck the +ground, and the chariot was dragged onward, rocking and staggering. +</P> + +<P> +By a strenuous effort Hermas kept his place on the frail platform, +clinging to the unbroken rein. But the boy was tossed lightly from +his side at the first shock. His head struck the wall. And when +Hermas turned to look for him, he was lying like a broken flower on +the sand. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY +</H3> + +<P> +THEY carried the boy in a litter to the House of the Golden Pillars, +summoning the most skilful physician of Antioch to attend him. For +hours the child was as quiet as death. Hermas watched the white +eyelids, folded close like lily-buds at night, even as one watches +for the morning. At last they opened; but the fire of fever was +burning in the eyes, and the lips were moving in a wild delirium. +</P> + +<P> +Hour after hour that sweet childish voice rang through the halls and +chambers of the splendid, helpless house, now rising in shrill calls +of distress and senseless laughter, now sinking in weariness and +dull moaning. The stars waxed and waned; the sun rose and set; the +roses bloomed and fell in the garden, the birds sang and slept among +the jasmine-bowers. But in the heart of Hermas there was no song, no +bloom, no light—only speechless anguish, and a certain fearful +looking-for of desolation. +</P> + +<P> +He was like a man in a nightmare. He saw the shapeless terror that +was moving toward him, but he was impotent to stay or to escape it. +He had done all that he could. There was nothing left but to wait. +</P> + +<P> +He paced to and fro, now hurrying to the boy's bed as if he could +not bear to be away from it, now turning back as if he could not +endure to be near it. The people of the house, even Athenais, feared +to speak to him, there was something so vacant and desperate in his +face. +</P> + +<P> +At nightfall, on the second of those eternal days, he shut himself +in the library. The unfilled lamp had gone out, leaving a trail of +smoke in the air. The sprigs of mignonette and rosemary, with which +the room was sprinkled every day, were unrenewed, and scented the +gloom with a close odor of decay. A costly manuscript of Theocritus +was tumbled in disorder on the floor. Hermas sank into a chair like +a man in whom the very spring of being is broken. Through the +darkness some one drew near. He did not even lift his head. A hand +touched him; a soft arm was laid over his shoulders. It was +Athenais, kneeling beside him and speaking very low: +</P> + +<P> +"Hermas—it is almost over—the child! His voice grows weaker +hour by hour. He moans and calls for some one to help him; then he +laughs. It breaks my heart. He has just fallen asleep. The moon is +rising now. Unless a change comes he cannot last till sunrise. Is +there nothing we can do? Is there no power that can save him? Is +there no one to pity us and spare us? Let us call, let us beg for +compassion and help; let us pray for his life!" +</P> + +<P> +Yes; that was what he wanted—that was the only thing that could +bring relief: to pray; to pour out his sorrow somewhere; to find a +greater strength than his own, and cling to it and plead for mercy +and help. To leave that undone was to be false to his manhood; it +was to be no better than the dumb beasts when their young perish. +How could he let his boy suffer and die, without an effort, a cry, a +prayer? +</P> + +<P> +He sank on his knees beside Athenais. +</P> + +<P> +"Out of the depths—out of the depths we call for pity. The light +of our eyes is fading—the child is dying. Oh, the child, the +child! Spare the child's life, thou merciful—" +</P> + +<P> +Not a word; only that deathly blank. The hands of Hermas, stretched +out in supplication, touched the marble table. He felt the cool +hardness of the polished stone beneath his fingers. A book, +dislodged by his touch, fell rustling to the floor. Through the open +door, faint and far off, came the footsteps of the servants, moving +cautiously. The heart of Hermas was like a lump of ice in his bosom. +He rose slowly to his feet, lifting Athenais with him. +</P> + +<P> +"It is in vain," he said; "there is nothing for us to do. Long ago I +knew something. I think it would have helped us. But I have +forgotten it. It is all gone. But I would give all that I have, if I +could bring it back again now, at this hour, in this time of our +bitter trouble." +</P> + +<P> +A slave entered the room while he was speaking, and approached +hesitatingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Master," he said, "John of Antioch, whom we were forbidden to admit +to the house, has come again. He would take no denial. Even now he +waits in the peristyle; and the old man Marcion is with him, seeking +to turn him away." +</P> + +<P> +"Come," said Hermas to his wife, "let us go to him; for I think I +see the beginning of a way that may lead us out of this dreadful +darkness." +</P> + +<P> +In the central hall the two men were standing; Marcion, with +disdainful eyes and sneering lips, taunting the unbidden guest to +depart; John silent, quiet, patient, while the wondering slaves +looked on in dismay. He lifted his searching gaze to the haggard +face of Hermas. +</P> + +<P> +"My son, I knew that I should see you again, even though you did not +send for me. I have come to you because I have heard that you are in +trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"It is true," answered Hermas, passionately; "we are in trouble, +desperate trouble, trouble accursed. Our child is dying. We are +poor, we are destitute, we are afflicted. In all this house, in all +the world, there is no one that can help us. I knew something long +ago, when I was with you,—a word, a name,—in which we might +have found hope. But I have lost it. I gave it to this man. He has +taken it away from me forever." +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to Marcion. The old man's lips curled scornfully. "A +word, a name!" he sneered. "What is that, O most wise and holy +Presbyter? A thing of air, an unreal thing that men make to describe +their own dreams and fancies. Who would go about to rob any one of +such a thing as that? It is a prize that only a fool would think of +taking. Besides, the young man parted with it of his own free will. +He bargained with me cleverly. I promised him wealth and pleasure +and fame. What did he give in return? An empty name, which was a +burden—" +</P> + +<P> +"Servant of demons, be still!" The voice of John rang clear, like a +trumpet, through the hall. "There is a name which none shall dare to +take in vain. There is a name which none can lose without being +lost. There is a name at which the devils tremble. Depart quickly, +before I speak it!" +</P> + +<P> +Marcion had shrunk into the shadow of one of the pillars. A bright +lamp near him tottered on its pedestal and fell with a crash. In the +confusion he vanished, as noiselessly as a shade. +</P> + +<P> +John turned to Hermas, and his tone softened as he said: "My son, +you have sinned deeper than you know. The word with which you parted +so lightly is the key-word of all life and joy and peace. Without it +the world has no meaning, and existence no rest, and death no +refuge. It is the word that purifies love, and comforts grief, and +keeps hope alive forever. It is the most precious thing that ever +ear has heard, or mind has known, or heart has conceived. It is the +name of Him who has given us life and breath and all things richly +to enjoy; the name of Him who, though we may forget Him, never +forgets us; the name of Him who pities us as you pity your suffering +child; the name of Him who, though we wander far from Him, seeks us +in the wilderness, and sent His Son, even as His Son has sent me +this night, to breathe again that forgotten name in the heart that +is perishing without it. Listen, my son, listen with all your soul +to the blessed name of God our Father." +</P> + +<P> +The cold agony in the breast of Hermas dissolved like a fragment of +ice that melts in the summer sea. A sense of sweet release spread +through him from head to foot. The lost was found. The dew of a +divine peace fell on his parched soul, and the withering flower of +human love lifted its head again. The light of a new hope shone on +his face. He stood upright, and lifted his hands high toward heaven. +</P> + +<P> +"Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord! O my God, be +merciful to me, for my soul trusteth in Thee. My God, Thou hast +given; take not Thy gift away from me, O my God! Spare the life of +this my child, O Thou God, my Father, my Father!" +</P> + +<P> +A deep hush followed the cry. "Listen!" whispered Athenais, +breathlessly. +</P> + +<P> +Was it an echo? It could not be, for it came again—the voice of +the child, clear and low, waking from sleep, and calling: "My +father, my father!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost Word, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST WORD *** + +***** This file should be named 4384-h.htm or 4384-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/8/4384/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lost Word + A Christmas Legend of Long Ago + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Posting Date: July 26, 2009 [EBook #4384] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 20, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST WORD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + +THE LOST WORD + + +A Christmas Legend of Long Ago + + +By + +HENRY VAN DYKE + + + +New York + +MDCCCXCVIII + + + + +"DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND HAMILTON W. MABIE" + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I THE POVERTY OF HERMAS + II A CHRISTMAS LOSS + III PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL + IV LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD + V RICHES WITHOUT REST + VI GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY + + + + + +I + +THE POVERTY OF HERMAS + + +"COME down, Hermas, come down! The night is past. It is time to be +stirring. Christ is born to-day. Peace be with you in His name. Make +haste and come down!" + +A little group of young men were standing in a street of Antioch, in +the dusk of early morning, fifteen hundred years ago. It was a class +of candidates who had nearly finished their two years of training +for the Christian church. They had come to call their fellow-student +Hermas from his lodging. + +Their voices rang out cheerily through the cool air. They were full +of that glad sense of life which the young feel when they awake and +come to rouse one who is still sleeping. There was a note of +friendly triumph in their call, as if they were exulting +unconsciously in having begun the adventure of the new day before +their comrade. + +But Hermas was not asleep. He had been waking for hours, and the +dark walls of his narrow lodging had been a prison to his restless +heart. A nameless sorrow and discontent had fallen upon him, and he +could find no escape from the heaviness of his own thoughts. + +There is a sadness of youth into which the old cannot enter. It +seems to them unreal and causeless. But it is even more bitter and +burdensome than the sadness of age. There is a sting of resentment +in it, a fever of angry surprise that the world should so soon be a +disappointment, and life so early take on the look of a failure. It +has little reason in it, perhaps, but it has all the more weariness +and gloom, because the man who is oppressed by it feels dimly that +it is an unnatural and an unreasonable thing, that he should be +separated from the joy of his companions, and tired of living before +he has fairly begun to live. + +Hermas had fallen into the very depths of this strange self-pity. He +was out of tune with everything around him. He had been thinking, +through the dead, still night, of all that he had given up when he +left the house of his father, the wealthy pagan Demetrius, to join +the company of the Christians. Only two years ago he had been one of +the richest young men in Antioch. Now he was one of the poorest. And +the worst of it was that, though he had made the choice willingly +and accepted the sacrifice with a kind of enthusiasm, he was already +dissatisfied with it. + +The new life was no happier than the old. He was weary of vigils and +fasts, weary of studies and penances, weary of prayers and sermons. +He felt like a slave in a treadmill. He knew that he must go on. His +honour, his conscience, his sense of duty, bound him. He could not +go back to the old careless pagan life again; for something had +happened within him which made a return impossible. Doubtless he had +found the true religion, but he had found it only as a task and a +burden; its joy and peace had slipped away from him. + +He felt disillusioned and robbed. He sat beside his hard little +couch, waiting without expectancy for the gray dawn of another empty +day, and hardly lifting his head at the shouts of his friends. + +"Come down, Hermas, you sluggard! Come down! It is Christmas morn. +Awake and be glad with us!" + +"I am coming," he answered listlessly; "only have patience a moment. +I have been awake since midnight, and waiting for the day." + +"You hear him!" said his friends one to another. "How he puts us all +to shame! He is more watchful, more eager, than any of us. Our +master, John the Presbyter, does well to be proud of him. He is the +best man in our class. When he is baptized the church will get a +strong member." + +While they were talking the door opened and Hermas stepped out. He +was a figure to be remarked in any company--tall, broad-shouldered, +straight-hipped, with a head proudly poised on the firm column of +the neck, and short brown curls clustering over the square forehead. +It was the perpetual type of vigourous and intelligent young manhood, +such as may be found in every century among the throngs of ordinary +men, as if to show what the flower of the race should be. But the +light in his dark blue eyes was clouded and uncertain; his smooth +cheeks were leaner than they should have been at twenty; and there +were downward lines about his mouth which spoke of desires unsatisfied +and ambitions repressed. He joined his companions with brief +greetings,--a nod to one, a word to another,--and they passed together +down the steep street. + +Overhead the mystery of daybreak was silently transfiguring the sky. +The curtain of darkness had lifted softly upward along the edge of +the horizon. The ragged crests of Mount Silpius were outlined with +pale rosy light. In the central vault of heaven a few large stars +twinkled drowsily. The great city, still chiefly pagan, lay more +than half asleep. But multitudes of the Christians, dressed in white +and carrying lighted torches in their hands, were hurrying toward +the Basilica of Constantine to keep the latest holy day of the +church, the new festival of the birthday of their Master. + +The vast, bare building was soon crowded, and the younger converts, +who were not yet permitted to stand among the baptized, found it +difficult to come to their appointed place between the first two +pillars of the house, just within the threshold. There was some +good-humoured pressing and jostling about the door; but the +candidates pushed steadily forward. + +"By your leave, friends, our station is beyond you. Will you let us +pass? Many thanks." + +A touch here, a courteous nod there, a little patience, a little +persistence, and at last they stood in their place. Hermas was +taller than his companions; he could look easily over their heads +and survey the white sea of people stretching away through the +columns, under the shadows of the high roof, as the tide spreads on +a calm day into the pillared cavern of Staffa, quiet as if the ocean +hardly dared to breathe. The light of many flambeaux fell, in +flickering, uncertain rays, over the assembly. At the end of the +vista there was a circle of clearer, steadier radiance. Hermas could +see the bishop in his great chair, surrounded by the presbyters, the +lofty desks on either side for the readers of the Scripture, the +communion-table and the table of offerings in the middle of the +church. + +The call to prayer sounded down the long aisle. Thousands of hands +were joyously lifted in the air, as if the sea had blossomed into +waving lilies, and the "Amen" was like the murmur of countless +ripples in an echoing place. + +Then the singing began, led by the choir of a hundred trained voices +which the Bishop Paul had founded in Antioch. Timidly, at first, the +music felt its way, as the people joined with a broken and uncertain +cadence, the mingling of many little waves not yet gathered into +rhythm and harmony. Soon the longer, stronger billows of song rolled +in, sweeping from side to side as the men and the women answered in +the clear antiphony. + +Hermas had often been carried on those "Tides of music's golden sea +Setting toward eternity." But to-day his heart was a rock that stood +motionless. The flood passed by and left him unmoved. + +Looking out from his place at the foot of the pillar, he saw a man +standing far off in the lofty bema. Short and slender, wasted by +sickness, gray before his time, with pale cheeks and wrinkled brow, +he seemed at first like a person of no significance--a reed shaken +in the wind. But there was a look in his deep-set, poignant eyes, as +he gathered all the glances of the multitude to himself, that belied +his mean appearance and prophesied power. Hermas knew very well who +it was: the man who had drawn him from his father's house, the +teacher who was instructing him as a son in the Christian faith, the +guide and trainer of his soul--John of Antioch, whose fame filled +the city and began to overflow Asia, and who was called already +Chrysostom, the golden-mouthed preacher. + +Hermas had felt the magic of his eloquence many a time; and to-day, +as the tense voice vibrated through the stillness, and the sentences +moved onward, growing fuller and stronger, bearing argosies of +costly rhetoric and treasures of homely speech in their bosom, and +drawing the hearts of men with a resistless magic, Hermas knew that +the preacher had never been more potent, more inspired. + +He played on that immense congregation as a master on an instrument. +He rebuked their sins, and they trembled. He touched their sorrows, +and they wept. He spoke of the conflicts, the triumphs, the glories +of their faith, and they broke out in thunders of applause. He +hushed them into reverent silence, and led them tenderly, with the +wise men of the East, to the lowly birthplace of Jesus. + +"Do thou, therefore, likewise leave the Jewish people, the troubled +city, the bloodthirsty tyrant, the pomp of the world, and hasten to +Bethlehem, the sweet house of spiritual bread. For though thou be +but a shepherd, and come hither, thou shalt behold the young Child +in an inn. Though thou be a king, and come not hither, thy purple +robe shall profit thee nothing. Though thou be one of the wise men, +this shall be no hindrance to thee. Only let thy coming be to honour +and adore, with trembling joy, the Son of God, to whose name be +glory, on this His birthday, and forever and forever." + +The soul of Hermas did not answer to the musician's touch. The +strings of his heart were slack and soundless; there was no response +within him. He was neither shepherd, nor king, nor wise man, only an +unhappy, dissatisfied, questioning youth. He was out of sympathy +with the eager preacher, the joyous hearers. In their harmony he had +no part. Was it for this that he had forsaken his inheritance and +narrowed his life to poverty and hardship? What was it all worth? + +The gracious prayers with which the young converts were blessed and +dismissed before the sacrament sounded hollow in his ears. Never had +he felt so utterly lonely as in that praying throng. He went out +with his companions like a man departing from a banquet where all +but he had been fed. + +"Farewell, Hermas," they cried, as he turned from them at the door. +But he did not look back, nor wave his hand. He was alone already in +his heart. + +When he entered the broad Avenue of the Colonnades, the sun had +already topped the eastern hills, and the ruddy light was streaming +through the long double row of archways and over the pavements of +crimson marble. But Hermas turned his back to the morning, and +walked with his shadow before him. + +The street began to swarm and whirl and quiver with the motley life +of a huge city: beggars and jugglers, dancers and musicians, gilded +youths in their chariots, and daughters of joy looking out from +their windows, all intoxicated with the mere delight of living and +the gladness of a new day. The pagan populace of Antioch--reckless, +pleasure-loving, spendthrift--were preparing for the Saturnalia. +But all this Hermas had renounced. He cleft his way through the +crowd slowly, like a reluctant swimmer weary of breasting the tide. + +At the corner of the street where the narrow, populous Lane of the +Camel-drivers crossed the Colonnades, a story-teller had bewitched a +circle of people around him. It was the same old tale of love and +adventure that many generations have listened to; but the lively +fancy of the hearers lent it new interest, and the wit of the +improviser drew forth sighs of interest and shouts of laughter. + +A yellow-haired girl on the edge of the throng turned, as Hermas +passed, and smiled in his face. She put out her hand and caught him +by the sleeve. + +"Stay," she said, "and laugh a bit with us. I know who you are--the +son of Demetrius. You must have bags of gold. Why do you look so +black? Love is alive yet." + +Hermas shook off her hand, but not ungently. + +"I don't know what you mean," he said. "You are mistaken in me. I am +poorer than you are." + +But as he passed on, he felt the warm touch of her fingers through +the cloth on his arm. It seemed as if she had plucked him by the +heart. + +He went out by the Western Gate, under the golden cherubim that the +Emperor Titus had stolen from the ruined Temple of Jerusalem and +fixed upon the arch of triumph. He turned to the left, and climbed +the hill to the road that led to the Grove of Daphne. + +In all the world there was no other highway as beautiful. It wound +for five miles along the foot of the mountains, among gardens and +villas, plantations of myrtles and mulberries, with wide outlooks +over the valley of Orontes and the distant, shimmering sea. + +The richest of all the dwellings was the House of the Golden +Pillars, the mansion of Demetrius. He had won the favor of the +apostate Emperor Julian, whose vain efforts to restore the worship +of the heathen gods, some twenty years ago, had opened an easy way +to wealth and power for all who would mock and oppose Christianity. +Demetrius was not a sincere fanatic like his royal master; but he +was bitter enough in his professed scorn of the new religion, to +make him a favourite at the court where the old religion was in +fashion. He had reaped a rich reward of his policy, and a strange +sense of consistency made him more fiercely loyal to it than if it +had been a real faith. He was proud of being called "the friend of +Julian"; and when his son joined himself to the Christians, and +acknowledged the unseen God, it seemed like an insult to his +father's success. He drove the boy from his door and disinherited +him. + +The glittering portico of the serene, haughty house, the repose of +the well-ordered garden, still blooming with belated flowers, seemed +at once to deride and to invite the young outcast plodding along the +dusty road. "This is your birthright," whispered the clambering +rose-trees by the gate; and the closed portals of carven bronze +said: "You have sold it for a thought--a dream." + + + + +II + +A CHRISTMAS LOSS + + +HERMAS found the Grove of Daphne quite deserted. There was no sound +in the enchanted vale but the rustling of the light winds chasing +each other through the laurel thickets, and the babble of +innumerable streams. Memories of the days and nights of delicate +pleasure that the grove had often seen still haunted the bewildered +paths and broken fountains. At the foot of a rocky eminence, crowned +with the ruins of Apollo's temple, which had been mysteriously +destroyed by fire just after Julian had restored and reconsecrated +it, Hermas sat down beside a gushing spring, and gave himself up to +sadness. + +"How beautiful the world would be, how joyful, how easy to live in, +without religion. These questions about unseen things, perhaps about +unreal things, these restraints and duties and sacrifices--if I +were only free from them all, and could only forget them all, then I +could live my life as I pleased, and be happy." + +"Why not?" said a quiet voice at his back. + +He turned, and saw an old man with a long beard and a threadbare +cloak (the garb affected by the pagan philosophers) standing behind +him and smiling curiously. + +"How is it that you answer that which has not been spoken?" said +Hermas; "and who are you that honour me with your company?" + +"Forgive the intrusion," answered the stranger; "it is not ill +meant. A friendly interest is as good as an introduction." + +"But to what singular circumstance do I owe this interest?" + +"To your face," said the old man, with a courteous inclination. +"Perhaps also a little to the fact that I am the oldest inhabitant +here, and feel as if all visitors were my guests, in a way." + +"Are you, then, one of the keepers of the grove? And have you given +up your work with the trees to take a holiday as a philosopher?" + +"Not at all. The robe of philosophy is a mere affectation, I must +confess. I think little of it. My profession is the care of altars. +In fact, I am that solitary priest of Apollo whom the Emperor Julian +found here when he came to revive the worship of the grove, some +twenty years ago. You have heard of the incident?" + +"Yes," said Hermas, beginning to be interested; "the whole city must +have heard of it, for it is still talked of. But surely it was a +strange sacrifice that you brought to celebrate the restoration of +Apollo's temple?" + +"You mean the goose? Well, perhaps it was not precisely what the +emperor expected. But it was all that I had, and it seemed to me not +inappropriate. You will agree to that if you are a Christian, as I +guess from your dress." + +"You speak lightly for a priest of Apollo." + +"Oh, as for that, I am no bigot. The priesthood is a professional +matter, and the name of Apollo is as good as any other. How many +altars do you think there have been in this grove?" + +"I do not know." + +"Just four-and-twenty, including that of the martyr Babylas, whose +ruined chapel you see just beyond us. I have had something to do +with most of them in my time. They--are transitory. They give +employment to care-takers for a while. But the thing that lasts, and +the thing that interests me, is the human life that plays around +them. The game has been going on for centuries. It still disports +itself very pleasantly on summer evenings through these shady walks. +Believe me, for I know. Daphne and Apollo were shadows. But the +flying maidens and the pursuing lovers, the music and the dances, +these are the realities. Life is the game, and the world keeps it up +merrily. But you? You are of a sad countenance for one so young and +so fair. Are you a loser in the game?" + +The words and tone of the speaker fitted Hermas' mood as a key fits +the lock. He opened his heart to the old man, and told him the story +of his life: his luxurious boyhood in his father's house; the +irresistible spell which compelled him to forsake it when he heard +John's preaching of the new religion; his lonely year with the +anchorites among the mountains; the strict discipline in his +teacher's house at Antioch; his weariness of duty, his distaste for +poverty, his discontent with worship. + +"And to-day," said he, "I have been thinking that I am a fool. My +life is swept as bare as a hermit's cell. There is nothing in it but +a dream, a thought of God, which does not satisfy me." + +The singular smile deepened on his companion's face. "You are ready, +then," he suggested, "to renounce your new religion and go back to +that of your father?" + +"No; I renounce nothing, I accept nothing. I do not wish to think +about it. I only wish to live." + +"A very reasonable wish, and I think you are about to see its +accomplishment. Indeed, I may even say that I can put you in the way +of securing it. Do you believe in magic?" + +"I have told you already that I do not know whether I believe in +anything. This is not a day on which I care to make professions of +faith. I believe in what I see. I want what will give me pleasure." + +"Well," said the old man, soothingly, as he plucked a leaf from the +laurel-tree above them and dipped it in the spring, "let us dismiss +the riddles of belief. I like them as little as you do. You know +this is a Castalian fountain. The Emperor Hadrian once read his +fortune here from a leaf dipped in the water. Let us see what this +leaf tells us. It is already turning yellow. How do you read that?" + +"Wealth," said Hermas, laughing, as he looked at his mean garments. + +"And here is a bud on the stem that seems to be swelling. What is +that?" + +"Pleasure," answered Hermas, bitterly. + +"And here is a tracing of wreaths upon the surface. What do you make +of that?" + +"What you will," said Hermas, not even taking the trouble to look. +"Suppose we say success and fame?" + +"Yes," said the stranger; "it is all written here. I promise that +you shall enjoy it all. But you do not need to believe in my +promise. I am not in the habit of requiring faith of those whom I +would serve. No such hard conditions for me! There is only one thing +that I ask. This is the season that you Christians call the +Christmas, and you have taken up the pagan custom of exchanging +gifts. Well, if I give to you, you must give to me. It is a small +thing, and really the thing you can best afford to part with: a +single word--the name of Him you profess to worship. Let me take +that word and all that belongs to it entirely out of your life, so +that you shall never need to hear it or speak it again. You will be +richer without it. I promise you everything, and this is all I ask +in return. Do you consent?" + +"Yes, I consent," said Hermas, mocking. "If you can take your price, +a word, you can keep your promise, a dream." + +The stranger laid the long, cool, wet leaf softly across the young +man's eyes. An icicle of pain darted through them; every nerve in +his body was drawn together there in a knot of agony. + +Then all the tangle of pain seemed to be lifted out of him. A cool +languor of delight flowed back through every vein, and he sank into +a profound sleep. + + + + +III + +PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL + + +THERE is a slumber so deep that it annihilates time. It is like a +fragment of eternity. Beneath its enchantment of vacancy, a day +seems like a thousand years, and a thousand years might well pass as +one day. + +It was such a sleep that fell upon Hermas in the Grove of Daphne. An +immeasurable period, an interval of life so blank and empty that he +could not tell whether it was long or short, had passed over him +when his senses began to stir again. The setting sun was shooting +arrows of gold under the glossy laurel-leaves. He rose and stretched +his arms, grasping a smooth branch above him and shaking it, to make +sure that he was alive. Then he hurried back toward Antioch, +treading lightly as if on air. + +The ground seemed to spring beneath his feet. Already his life had +changed, he knew not how. Something that did not belong to him had +dropped away; he had returned to a former state of being. He felt as +if anything might happen to him, and he was ready for anything. He +was a new man, yet curiously familiar to himself--as if he had +done with playing a tiresome part and returned to his natural state. +He was buoyant and free, without a care, a doubt, a fear. + +As he drew near to his father's house he saw a confusion of servants +in the porch, and the old steward ran down to meet him at the gate. + +"Lord, we have been seeking you everywhere. The master is at the +point of death, and has sent for you. Since the sixth hour he calls +your name continually. Come to him quickly, lord, for I fear the +time is short." + +Hermas entered the house at once; nothing could amaze him to-day. +His father lay on an ivory couch in the inmost chamber, with +shrunken face and restless eyes, his lean fingers picking +incessantly at the silken coverlet. + +"My son!" he murmured; "Hermas, my son! It is good that you have +come back to me. I have missed you. I was wrong to send you away. +You shall never leave me again. You are my son, my heir. I have +changed everything. Hermas, my son, come nearer--close beside me. +Take my hand, my son!" + +The young man obeyed, and, kneeling by the couch, gathered his +father's cold, twitching fingers in his firm, warm grasp. + +"Hermas, life is passing--long, rich, prosperous; the last sands, +I--cannot stay them. My religion, a good policy--Julian was my +friend. But now he is gone--where? My soul is empty--nothing +beyond--very dark--I am afraid. But you know something better. +You found something that made you willing to give up your life for +it--it must have been almost like dying--yet you were happy. +What was it you found? See, I am giving you everything. I have +forgiven you. Now forgive me. Tell me, what is it? Your secret, your +faith--give it to me before I go." + +At the sound of this broken pleading a strange passion of pity and +love took the young man by the throat. His voice shook a little as +he answered eagerly: + +"Father, there is nothing to forgive. I am your son; I will gladly +tell, you all that I know. I will give you the secret of faith. +Father, you must believe with all your heart, and soul, and strength +in--" + +Where was the word--the word that he had been used to utter night +and morning, the word that had meant to him more than he had ever +known? What had become of it? + +He groped for it in the dark room of his mind. He had thought he +could lay his hand upon it in a moment, but it was gone. Some one +had taken it away. Everything else was most clear to him: the terror +of death; the lonely soul appealing from his father's eyes; the +instant need of comfort and help. But at the one point where he +looked for help he could find nothing; only an empty space. The word +of hope had vanished. He felt for it blindly and in desperate haste. + +"Father, wait! I have forgotten something--it has slipped away +from me. I shall find it in a moment. There is hope--I will tell +you presently--oh, wait!" + +The bony hand gripped his like a vice; the glazed eyes opened wider. +"Tell me," whispered the old man; "tell me quickly, for I must go." + +The voice sank into a dull rattle. The fingers closed once more, and +relaxed. The light behind the eyes went out. + +Hermas, the master of the House of the Golden Pillars, was keeping +watch by the dead. + + + + +IV + +LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD + + +THE break with the old life was as clean as if it had been cut with +a knife. Some faint image of a hermit's cell, a bare lodging in a +back street of Antioch, a class-room full of earnest students, +remained in Hermas' memory. Some dull echo of the voice of John the +Presbyter, and the murmured sound of chanting, and the murmur of +great congregations, still lingered in his ears; but it was like +something that had happened to another person, something that he had +read long ago, but of which he had lost the meaning. + +His new life was full and smooth and rich--too rich for any sense +of loss to make itself felt. There were a hundred affairs to busy +him, and the days ran swiftly by as if they were shod with winged +sandals. + +Nothing needed to be considered, prepared for, begun. Everything was +ready and waiting for him. All that he had to do was to go on with +it. The estate of Demetrius was even greater than the world had +supposed. There were fertile lands in Syria which the emperor had +given him, marble-quarries in Phrygia, and forests of valuable +timber in Cilicia; the vaults of the villa contained chests of gold +and silver; the secret cabinets in the master's room were full of +precious stones. The stewards were diligent and faithful. The +servants of the magnificent household rejoiced at the young master's +return. His table was spread; the rose-garland of pleasure was woven +for his head, and his cup was already filled with the spicy wine of +power. + +The period of mourning for his father came at a fortunate moment, to +seclude and safeguard him from the storm of political troubles and +persecutions that fell upon Antioch after the insults offered by the +mob to the imperial statues in the year 887. The friends of +Demetrius, prudent and conservative persons, gathered around Hermas +and made him welcome to their circle. Chief among them was Libanius, +the sophist, his nearest neighbour, whose daughter Athenais had been +the playmate of Hermas in the old days. + +He had left her a child. He found her a beautiful woman. What +transformation is so magical, so charming, as this? To see the +uncertain lines of-youth rounded into firmness and symmetry, to +discover the half-ripe, merry, changing face of the girl matured +into perfect loveliness, and looking at you with calm, clear, +serious eyes, not forgetting the past, but fully conscious of the +changed present--this is to behold a miracle in the flesh. + +"Where have you been, these two years?" said Athenais, as they +walked together through the garden of lilies where they had so often +played. + +"In a land of tiresome dreams," answered Hermas; "but you have +wakened me, and I am never going back again." + +It was not to be supposed that the sudden disappearance of Hermas +from among his former associates could long remain unnoticed. At +first it was a mystery. There was a fear, for two or three days, +that he might be lost. Some of his more intimate companions +maintained that his devotion had led him out into the desert to join +the anchorites. But the news of his return to the House of the +Golden Pillars, and of his new life as its master, filtered quickly +through the gossip of the city. + +Then the church was filled with dismay and grief and reproach. +Messengers and letters were sent to Hermas. They disturbed him a +little, but they took no hold upon him. It seemed to him as if the +messengers spoke in a strange language. As he read the letters there +were words blotted out of the writing which made the full sense +unintelligible. + +His old companions came to reprove him for leaving them, to warn him +of the peril of apostasy, to entreat him to return. It all sounded +vague and futile. They spoke as if he had betrayed or offended some +one; but when they came to name the object of his fear--the one +whom he had displeased, and to whom he should return--he heard +nothing; there was a blur of silence in their speech. The clock +pointed to the hour, but the bell did not strike. At last Hermas +refused to see them any more. + +One day John the Presbyter stood in the atrium. Hermas was +entertaining Libanius and Athenais in the banquet-hall. When the +visit of the Presbyter was announced, the young master loosed a +collar of gold and jewels from his neck, and gave it to his scribe. + +"Take this to John of Antioch, and tell him it is a gift from his +former pupil--as a token of remembrance, or to spend for the poor +of the city. I will always send him what he wants, but it is idle +for us to talk together any more. I do not understand what he says. +I have not gone to the temple, nor offered sacrifice, nor denied his +teaching. I have simply forgotten. I do not think about those things +any longer. I am only living. A happy man wishes him all happiness +and farewell." + +But John let the golden collar fall on the marble floor. "Tell your +master that we shall talk together again, after all," said he, as he +passed sadly out of the hall. + +The love of Athenais and Hermas was like a tiny rivulet that sinks +out of sight in a cavern, but emerges again as a bright and brimming +stream. The careless comradery of childhood was mysteriously changed +into a complete companionship. + +When Athenais entered the House of the Golden Pillars as a bride, +all the music of life came with her. Hermas called the feast of her +welcome "the banquet of the full chord." Day after day, night after +night, week after week, month after month, the bliss of the home +unfolded like a rose of a thousand leaves. When a child came to +them, a strong, beautiful boy, worthy to be the heir of such a +house, the heart of the rose was filled with overflowing fragrance. +Happiness was heaped upon happiness. Every wish brought its own +accomplishment. Wealth, honour, beauty, peace, love--it was an +abundance of felicity so great that the soul of Hermas could hardly +contain it. + +Strangely enough, it began to press upon him, to trouble him with +the very excess of joy. He felt as if there were something yet +needed to complete and secure it all. There was an urgency within +him, a longing to find some outlet for his feelings, he knew not +how--some expression and culmination of his happiness, he knew not +what. + +Under his joyous demeanour a secret fire of restlessness began to +burn--an expectancy of something yet to come which should put the +touch of perfection on his life, He spoke of it to Athenais, as they +sat together, one summer evening, in a bower of jasmine, with their +boy playing at their feet. There had been music in the garden; but +now the singers and lute-players had withdrawn, leaving the master +and mistress alone in the lingering twilight, tremulous with +inarticulate melody of unseen birds. There was a secret voice in the +hour seeking vainly for utterance--a word waiting to be spoken at +the centre of the charm. + +"How deep is our happiness, my beloved!" said Hermas; "deeper than +the sea that slumbers yonder, below the city. And yet I feel it is +not quite full and perfect. There is a depth of joy that we have not +yet known--a repose of happiness that is still beyond us. What is +it? I have no superstitious fears, like the king who cast his +signet-ring into the sea because he dreaded that some secret +vengeance would fall on his unbroken good fortune. That was an idle +terror. But there is something that oppresses me like an invisible +burden. There is something still undone, unspoken, unfelt--something +that we need to complete everything. Have you not felt it, too? Can +you not lead me to it?" + +"Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to his face; "I, too, have +felt it, Hermas, this burden, this need, this unsatisfied longing. I +think I know what it means. It is gratitude--the language of the +heart, the music of happiness. There is no perfect joy without +gratitude. But we have never learned it, and the want of it troubles +us. It is like being dumb with a heart full of love. We must find +the word for it, and say it together. Then we shall be perfectly +joined in perfect joy. Come, my dear lord, let us take the boy with +us, and give thanks." + +Hermas lifted the child in his arms, and turned with Athenais into +the depth of the garden. There was a dismantled shrine of some +forgotten fashion of worship half hidden among the luxuriant +flowers. A fallen image lay beside it, face downward in the grass. +They stood there, hand in hand, the boy drowsily resting on his +father's shoulder--a threefold harmony of strength and beauty and +innocence. + +Silently the roseate light caressed the tall spires of the +cypress-trees; silently the shadows gathered at their feet; silently +the crystal stars looked out from the deepening arch of heaven. The +very breath of being paused. It was the hour of culmination, the +supreme moment of felicity waiting for its crown. The tones of +Hermas were clear and low as he began, half speaking and half +chanting, in the rhythm of an ancient song: + +"Fair is the world, the sea, the sky, the double kingdom of day and +night, in the glow of morning, in the shadow of evening, and under +the dripping light of stars. + +"Fairer still is life in our breasts, with its manifold music and +meaning, with its wonder of seeing and hearing and feeling and +knowing and being. + +"Fairer and still more fair is love, that draws us together, mingles +our lives in its flow, and bears them along like a river, strong and +clear and swift, rejecting the stars in its bosom. + +"Wide is our world; we are rich; we have all things. Life is +abundant within us--a measureless deep. Deepest of all is our +love, and it longs to speak. + +"Come, thou final word! Come, thou crown of speech! Come, thou charm +of peace! Open the gates of our hearts. Lift the weight of our joy +and bear it upward. + +"For all good gifts, for all perfect gifts, for love, for life, for +the world, we praise, we bless, we thank--" + +As a soaring bird, struck by an arrow, falls headlong from the sky, +so the song of Hermas fell. At the end of his flight of gratitude +there was nothing--a blank, a hollow space. + +He looked for a face, and saw a void. He sought for a hand, and +clasped vacancy. His heart was throbbing and swelling with passion; +the bell swung to and fro within him, beating from side to side as +if it would burst; but not a single note came from it. All the +fulness of his feeling, that had risen upward like a living +fountain, fell back from the empty sky, as cold as snow, as hard as +hail, frozen and dead. There was no meaning in his happiness. No one +had sent it to him. There was no one to thank for it. His felicity +was a closed circle, a wall of eternal ice. + +"Let us go back," he said sadly to Athenais; "the child is heavy +upon my shoulder. We will lay him to sleep, and go into the library. +The air grows chilly. We were mistaken. The gratitude of life is +only a dream. There is no one to thank." + +And in the garden it was already night. + + + + +V + +RICHES WITHOUT REST + + +NO outward change came to the House of the Golden Pillars. +Everything moved as smoothly, as delicately, as prosperously, as +before. But inwardly there was a subtle, inexplicable +transformation. A vague discontent--a final and inevitable sense +of incompleteness, overshadowed existence from that night when +Hermas realized that his joy could never go beyond itself. + +The next morning the old man whom he had seen in the Grove of +Daphne, but never since, appeared mysteriously at the door of the +house, as if he had been sent for, and entered, to dwell there like +an invited guest. + +Hermas could not but make him welcome, and at first he tried to +regard him with reverence and affection as the one through whom +fortune had come. But it was impossible. There was a chill in the +inscrutable smile of Marcion, as he called himself, that seemed to +mock at reverence. He was in the house as one watching a strange +experiment--tranquil, interested, ready to supply anything that +might be needed for its completion, but thoroughly indifferent to +the feelings of the subject; an anatomist of life, looking curiously +to see how long it would continue, and how it would behave, after +the heart had been removed. + +In his presence Hermas was conscious of a certain irritation, a +resentful anger against the calm, frigid scrutiny of the eyes that +followed him everywhere, like a pair of spies, peering out over the +smiling mouth and the long white beard. + +"Why do you look at me so curiously?" asked Hermas, one morning, as +they sat together in the library. "Do you see anything strange in +me?" + +"No," answered Marcion; "something familiar." + +"And what is that?" + +"A singular likeness to a discontented young man that I met some +years ago in the Grove of Daphne." + +"But why should that interest you? Surely it was to be expected." + +"A thing that we expect often surprises us when we see it. Besides, +my curiosity is piqued. I suspect you of keeping a secret from me." + +"You are jesting with me. There is nothing in my life that you do +not know. What is the secret?" + +"Nothing more than the wish to have one. You are growing tired of +your bargain. The game wearies you. That is foolish. Do you want to +try a new part?" + +The question was like a mirror upon which one comes suddenly in a +half-lighted room, A quick illumination falls on it, and the +passer-by is startled by the look of his own face. + +"You are right," said Hermas. "I am tired. We have been going on +stupidly in this house, as if nothing were possible but what my +father had done before me. There is nothing original in being rich, +and well fed, and well dressed. Thousands of men have tried it, and +have not been very well satisfied. Let us do something new. Let us +make a mark in the world." + +"It is well said," nodded the old man; "you are speaking again like +a man after my own heart. There is no folly but the loss of an +opportunity to enjoy a new sensation." + +From that day Hermas seemed to be possessed with a perpetual haste, +an uneasiness that left him no repose. The summit of life had been +attained, the highest possible point of felicity. Henceforward the +course could only be at a level--perhaps downward. It might be +brief; at the best it could not be very long. It was madness to lose +a day, an hour. That would be the only fatal mistake: to forfeit +anything of the bargain that he had made. He would have it, and hold +it, and enjoy it all to the full. The world might have nothing +better to give than it had already given; but surely it had many +things that were new to bestow upon him, and Marcion should help him +to find them. + +Under his learned counsel the House of the Golden Pillars took on a +new magnificence. Artists were brought from Corinth and Rome and +Byzantium to adorn it with splendour. Its fame glittered around the +world. Banquets of incredible luxury drew the most celebrated guests +into its triclinium, and filled them with envious admiration. The +bees swarmed and buzzed about the golden hive. The human insects, +gorgeous moths of pleasure and greedy flies of appetite, parasites +and flatterers and crowds of inquisitive idlers, danced and +fluttered in the dazzling light that surrounded Hermas. + +Everything that he touched prospered. He bought a tract of land in +the Caucasus, and emeralds were discovered among the mountains. He +sent a fleet of wheat-ships to Italy, and the price of grain doubled +while it was on the way. He sought political favour with the +emperor, and was rewarded with the governorship of the city. His +name was a word to conjure with. + +The beauty of Athenais lost nothing with the passing seasons, but +grew more perfect, even under the inexplicable shade of +dissatisfaction that sometimes veiled it as a translucent cloud that +passes before the full moon. "Fair as the wife of Hermas" was a +proverb in Antioch; and soon men began to add to it, "Beautiful as +the son of Hermas"; for the child developed swiftly in that +favouring clime. At nine years of age he was straight and strong, +firm of limb and clear of eye. His brown head was on a level with +his father's heart. He was the jewel of the House of the Golden +Pillars; the pride of Hermas, the new Fortunatus. + +That year another drop of success fell into his brimming cup. His +black Numidian horses, which he had been training for three years +for the world-renowned chariot-races of Antioch, won the victory +over a score of rivals. Hermas received the prize carelessly from +the judge's hands, and turned to drive once more around the circus, +to show himself to the people. He lifted the eager boy into the +chariot beside him to share his triumph. + +Here, indeed, was the glory of his life--this matchless son, his +brighter counterpart carved in breathing ivory, touching his arm, +and balancing himself proudly on the swaying floor of the chariot. +As the horses pranced around the ring, a great shout of applause +filled the amphitheatre, and thousands of spectators waved their +salutations of praise: "Hail, fortunate Hermas, master of success! +Hail, little Hermas, prince of good luck!" + +The sudden tempest of acclamation, the swift fluttering of +innumerable garments in the air, startled the horses. They dashed +violently forward, and plunged upon the bits. The left rein broke. +They swerved to the right, swinging the chariot sideways with a +grating noise, and dashing it against the stone parapet of the +arena. In an instant the wheel was shattered. The axle struck the +ground, and the chariot was dragged onward, rocking and staggering. + +By a strenuous effort Hermas kept his place on the frail platform, +clinging to the unbroken rein. But the boy was tossed lightly from +his side at the first shock. His head struck the wall. And when +Hermas turned to look for him, he was lying like a broken flower on +the sand. + + + + +VI + +GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY + + +THEY carried the boy in a litter to the House of the Golden Pillars, +summoning the most skilful physician of Antioch to attend him. For +hours the child was as quiet as death. Hermas watched the white +eyelids, folded close like lily-buds at night, even as one watches +for the morning. At last they opened; but the fire of fever was +burning in the eyes, and the lips were moving in a wild delirium. + +Hour after hour that sweet childish voice rang through the halls and +chambers of the splendid, helpless house, now rising in shrill calls +of distress and senseless laughter, now sinking in weariness and +dull moaning. The stars waxed and waned; the sun rose and set; the +roses bloomed and fell in the garden, the birds sang and slept among +the jasmine-bowers. But in the heart of Hermas there was no song, no +bloom, no light--only speechless anguish, and a certain fearful +looking-for of desolation. + +He was like a man in a nightmare. He saw the shapeless terror that +was moving toward him, but he was impotent to stay or to escape it. +He had done all that he could. There was nothing left but to wait. + +He paced to and fro, now hurrying to the boy's bed as if he could +not bear to be away from it, now turning back as if he could not +endure to be near it. The people of the house, even Athenais, feared +to speak to him, there was something so vacant and desperate in his +face. + +At nightfall, on the second of those eternal days, he shut himself +in the library. The unfilled lamp had gone out, leaving a trail of +smoke in the air. The sprigs of mignonette and rosemary, with which +the room was sprinkled every day, were unrenewed, and scented the +gloom with a close odor of decay. A costly manuscript of Theocritus +was tumbled in disorder on the floor. Hermas sank into a chair like +a man in whom the very spring of being is broken. Through the +darkness some one drew near. He did not even lift his head. A hand +touched him; a soft arm was laid over his shoulders. It was +Athenais, kneeling beside him and speaking very low: + +"Hermas--it is almost over--the child! His voice grows weaker +hour by hour. He moans and calls for some one to help him; then he +laughs. It breaks my heart. He has just fallen asleep. The moon is +rising now. Unless a change comes he cannot last till sunrise. Is +there nothing we can do? Is there no power that can save him? Is +there no one to pity us and spare us? Let us call, let us beg for +compassion and help; let us pray for his life!" + +Yes; that was what he wanted--that was the only thing that could +bring relief: to pray; to pour out his sorrow somewhere; to find a +greater strength than his own, and cling to it and plead for mercy +and help. To leave that undone was to be false to his manhood; it +was to be no better than the dumb beasts when their young perish. +How could he let his boy suffer and die, without an effort, a cry, a +prayer? + +He sank on his knees beside Athenais. + +"Out of the depths--out of the depths we call for pity. The light +of our eyes is fading--the child is dying. Oh, the child, the +child! Spare the child's life, thou merciful--" + +Not a word; only that deathly blank. The hands of Hermas, stretched +out in supplication, touched the marble table. He felt the cool +hardness of the polished stone beneath his fingers. A book, +dislodged by his touch, fell rustling to the floor. Through the open +door, faint and far off, came the footsteps of the servants, moving +cautiously. The heart of Hermas was like a lump of ice in his bosom. +He rose slowly to his feet, lifting Athenais with him. + +"It is in vain," he said; "there is nothing for us to do. Long ago I +knew something. I think it would have helped us. But I have +forgotten it. It is all gone. But I would give all that I have, if I +could bring it back again now, at this hour, in this time of our +bitter trouble." + +A slave entered the room while he was speaking, and approached +hesitatingly. + +"Master," he said, "John of Antioch, whom we were forbidden to admit +to the house, has come again. He would take no denial. Even now he +waits in the peristyle; and the old man Marcion is with him, seeking +to turn him away." + +"Come," said Hermas to his wife, "let us go to him; for I think I +see the beginning of a way that may lead us out of this dreadful +darkness." + +In the central hall the two men were standing; Marcion, with +disdainful eyes and sneering lips, taunting the unbidden guest to +depart; John silent, quiet, patient, while the wondering slaves +looked on in dismay. He lifted his searching gaze to the haggard +face of Hermas. + +"My son, I knew that I should see you again, even though you did not +send for me. I have come to you because I have heard that you are in +trouble." + +"It is true," answered Hermas, passionately; "we are in trouble, +desperate trouble, trouble accursed. Our child is dying. We are +poor, we are destitute, we are afflicted. In all this house, in all +the world, there is no one that can help us. I knew something long +ago, when I was with you,--a word, a name,--in which we might +have found hope. But I have lost it. I gave it to this man. He has +taken it away from me forever." + +He pointed to Marcion. The old man's lips curled scornfully. "A +word, a name!" he sneered. "What is that, O most wise and holy +Presbyter? A thing of air, an unreal thing that men make to describe +their own dreams and fancies. Who would go about to rob any one of +such a thing as that? It is a prize that only a fool would think of +taking. Besides, the young man parted with it of his own free will. +He bargained with me cleverly. I promised him wealth and pleasure +and fame. What did he give in return? An empty name, which was a +burden--" + +"Servant of demons, be still!" The voice of John rang clear, like a +trumpet, through the hall. "There is a name which none shall dare to +take in vain. There is a name which none can lose without being +lost. There is a name at which the devils tremble. Depart quickly, +before I speak it!" + +Marcion had shrunk into the shadow of one of the pillars. A bright +lamp near him tottered on its pedestal and fell with a crash. In the +confusion he vanished, as noiselessly as a shade. + +John turned to Hermas, and his tone softened as he said: "My son, +you have sinned deeper than you know. The word with which you parted +so lightly is the key-word of all life and joy and peace. Without it +the world has no meaning, and existence no rest, and death no +refuge. It is the word that purifies love, and comforts grief, and +keeps hope alive forever. It is the most precious thing that ever +ear has heard, or mind has known, or heart has conceived. It is the +name of Him who has given us life and breath and all things richly +to enjoy; the name of Him who, though we may forget Him, never +forgets us; the name of Him who pities us as you pity your suffering +child; the name of Him who, though we wander far from Him, seeks us +in the wilderness, and sent His Son, even as His Son has sent me +this night, to breathe again that forgotten name in the heart that +is perishing without it. Listen, my son, listen with all your soul +to the blessed name of God our Father." + +The cold agony in the breast of Hermas dissolved like a fragment of +ice that melts in the summer sea. A sense of sweet release spread +through him from head to foot. The lost was found. The dew of a +divine peace fell on his parched soul, and the withering flower of +human love lifted its head again. The light of a new hope shone on +his face. He stood upright, and lifted his hands high toward heaven. + +"Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord! O my God, be +merciful to me, for my soul trusteth in Thee. My God, Thou hast +given; take not Thy gift away from me, O my God! Spare the life of +this my child, O Thou God, my Father, my Father!" + +A deep hush followed the cry. "Listen!" whispered Athenais, +breathlessly. + +Was it an echo? It could not be, for it came again--the voice of +the child, clear and low, waking from sleep, and calling: "My +father, my father!" + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost Word, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST WORD *** + +***** This file should be named 4384.txt or 4384.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/8/4384/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + + + +Edited by Charles Aldarondo Aldarondo@yahoo.com + + + + +THE LOST WORD + + +A Christmas Legend of Long Ago + + +By +HENRY VAN DYKE + +New York + +MDCCCXCVIII + + + + + + + + +"DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND HAMILTON W. MABIE" + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + + + +I The POVERTY OF HERMAS + +II A CHRISTMAS LOSS + +III PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL + +IV LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD + +V RICHES WITHOUT REST + +VI GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY + + + + + + +I + +THE POVERTY OF HERMAS + + + + + + +"COME down, Hermas, come down! The night is past. It is time to be +stirring. Christ is born to-day. Peace be with you in His name. Make +haste and come down!" + +A little group of young men were standing in a street of Antioch, in +the dusk of early morning, fifteen hundred years ago. It was a class +of candidates who had nearly finished their two years of training +for the Christian church. They had come to call their fellow-student +Hermas from his lodging. + +Their voices rang out cheerily through the cool air. They were full +of that glad sense of life which the young feel when they awake and +come to rouse one who is still sleeping. There was a note of +friendly triumph in their call, as if they were exulting +unconsciously in having begun the adventure of the new day before +their comrade. + +But Hermas was not asleep. He had been waking for hours, and the +dark walls of his narrow lodging had been a prison to his restless +heart. A nameless sorrow and discontent had fallen upon him, and he +could find no escape from the heaviness of his own thoughts. + +There is a sadness of youth into which the old cannot enter. It +seems to them unreal and causeless. But it is even more bitter and +burdensome than the sadness of age. There is a sting of resentment +in it, a fever of angry surprise that the world should so soon be a +disappointment, and life so early take on the look of a failure. It +has little reason in it, perhaps, but it has all the more weariness +and gloom, because the man who is oppressed by it feels dimly that +it is an unnatural and an unreasonable thing, that he should be +separated from the joy of his companions, and tired of living before +he has fairly begun to live. + +Hermas had fallen into the very depths of this strange self-pity. He +was out of tune with everything around him. He had been thinking, +through the dead, still night, of all that he had given up when he +left the house of his father, the wealthy pagan Demetrius, to join +the company of the Christians. Only two years ago he had been one of +the richest young men in Antioch. Now he was one of the poorest. And +the worst of it was that, though he had made the choice willingly +and accepted the sacrifice with a kind of enthusiasm, he was already +dissatisfied with it. + +The new life was no happier than the old. He was weary of vigils and +fasts, weary of studies and penances, weary of prayers and sermons. +He felt like a slave in a treadmill. He knew that he must go on. His +honour, his conscience, his sense of duty, bound him. He could not +go back to the old careless pagan life again; for something had +happened within him which made a return impossible. Doubtless he had +found the true religion, but he had found it only as a task and a +burden; its joy and peace had slipped away from him. + +He felt disillusioned and robbed. He sat beside his hard little +couch, waiting without expectancy for the gray dawn of another empty +day, and hardly lifting his head at the shouts of his friends. + +"Come down, Hermas, you sluggard! Come down! It is Christmas morn. +Awake and be glad with us!" + +"I am coming," he answered listlessly; "only have patience a moment. +I have been awake since midnight, and waiting for the day." + +"You hear him!" said his friends one to another. "How he puts us all +to shame! He is more watchful, more eager, than any of us. Our +master, John the Presbyter, does well to be proud of him. He is the +best man in our class. When he is baptized the church will get a +strong member." + +While they were talking the door opened and Hermas stepped out. He +was a figure to be remarked in any company--tall, +broad-shouldered, straight-hipped, with a head proudly poised on the +firm column of the neck, and short brown curls clustering over the +square forehead. It was the perpetual type of vigourous and +intelligent young manhood, such as may be found in every century +among the throngs of ordinary men, as if to show what the flower of +the race should be. But the light in his dark blue eyes was clouded +and uncertain; his smooth cheeks were leaner than they should have +been at twenty; and there were downward lines about his mouth which +spoke of desires unsatisfied and ambitions repressed. He joined his +companions with brief greetings,--a nod to one, a word to another,-- +and they passed together down the steep street. + +Overhead the mystery of daybreak was silently transfiguring the sky. +The curtain of darkness had lifted softly upward along the edge of +the horizon. The ragged crests of Mount Silpius were outlined with +pale rosy light. In the central vault of heaven a few large stars +twinkled drowsily. The great city, still chiefly pagan, lay more +than half asleep. But multitudes of the Christians, dressed in white +and carrying lighted torches in their hands, were hurrying toward +the Basilica of Constantine to keep the latest holy day of the +church, the new festival of the birthday of their Master. + +The vast, bare building was soon crowded, and the younger converts, +who were not yet permitted to stand among the baptized, found it +difficult to come to their appointed place between the first two +pillars of the house, just within the threshold. There was some +good-humoured pressing and jostling about the door; but the +candidates pushed steadily forward. + +"By your leave, friends, our station is beyond you. Will you let us +pass? Many thanks." + +A touch here, a courteous nod there, a little patience, a little +persistence, and at last they stood in their place. Hermas was +taller than his companions; he could look easily over their heads +and survey the white sea of people stretching away through the +columns, under the shadows of the high roof, as the tide spreads on +a calm day into the pillared cavern of Staffa, quiet as if the ocean +hardly dared to breathe. The light of many flambeaux fell, in +flickering, uncertain rays, over the assembly. At the end of the +vista there was a circle of clearer, steadier radiance. Hermas could +see the bishop in his great chair, surrounded by the presbyters, the +lofty desks on either side for the readers of the Scripture, the +communion-table and the table of offerings in the middle of the +church. + +The call to prayer sounded down the long aisle. Thousands of hands +were joyously lifted in the air, as if the sea had blossomed into +waving lilies, and the "Amen" was like the murmur of countless +ripples in an echoing place. + +Then the singing began, led by the choir of a hundred trained voices +which the Bishop Paul had founded in Antioch. Timidly, at first, the +music felt its way, as the people joined with a broken and uncertain +cadence, the mingling of many little waves not yet gathered into +rhythm and harmony. Soon the longer, stronger billows of song rolled +in, sweeping from side to side as the men and the women answered in +the clear antiphony. + +Hermas had often been carried on those "Tides of music's golden sea +Setting toward eternity." But to-day his heart was a rock that stood +motionless. The flood passed by and left him unmoved. + +Looking out from his place at the foot of the pillar, he saw a man +standing far off in the lofty bema. Short and slender, wasted by +sickness, gray before his time, with pale cheeks and wrinkled brow, +he seemed at first like a person of no significance--a reed shaken +in the wind. But there was a look in his deep-set, poignant eyes, as +he gathered all the glances of the multitude to himself, that belied +his mean appearance and prophesied power. Hermas knew very well who +it was: the man who had drawn him from his father's house, the +teacher who was instructing him as a son in the Christian faith, the +guide and trainer of his soul--John of Antioch, whose fame filled +the city and began to overflow Asia, and who was called already +Chrysostom, the golden-mouthed preacher. + +Hermas had felt the magic of his eloquence many a time; and to-day, +as the tense voice vibrated through the stillness, and the sentences +moved onward, growing fuller and stronger, bearing argosies of +costly rhetoric and treasures of homely speech in their bosom, and +drawing the hearts of men with a resistless magic, Hermas knew that +the preacher had never been more potent, more inspired. + +He played on that immense congregation as a master on an instrument. +He rebuked their sins, and they trembled. He touched their sorrows, +and they wept. He spoke of the conflicts, the triumphs, the glories +of their faith, and they broke out in thunders of applause. He +hushed them into reverent silence, and led them tenderly, with the +wise men of the East, to the lowly birthplace of Jesus. + +"Do thou, therefore, likewise leave the Jewish people, the troubled +city, the bloodthirsty tyrant, the pomp of the world, and hasten to +Bethlehem, the sweet house of spiritual bread. For though thou be +but a shepherd, and come hither, thou shalt behold the young Child +in an inn. Though thou be a king, and come not hither, thy purple +robe shall profit thee nothing. Though thou be one of the wise men, +this shall be no hindrance to thee. Only let thy coming be to honour +and adore, with trembling joy, the Son of God, to whose name be +glory, on this His birthday, and forever and forever." + +The soul of Hermas did not answer to the musician's touch. The +strings of his heart were slack and soundless; there was no response +within him. He was neither shepherd, nor king, nor wise man, only an +unhappy, dissatisfied, questioning youth. He was out of sympathy +with the eager preacher, the joyous hearers. In their harmony he had +no part. Was it for this that he had forsaken his inheritance and +narrowed his life to poverty and hardship? What was it all worth? + +The gracious prayers with which the young converts were blessed and +dismissed before the sacrament sounded hollow in his ears. Never had +he felt so utterly lonely as in that praying throng. He went out +with his companions like a man departing from a banquet where all +but he had been fed. + +"Farewell, Hermas," they cried, as he turned from them at the door. +But he did not look back, nor wave his hand. He was alone already in +his heart. + +When he entered the broad Avenue of the Colonnades, the sun had +already topped the eastern hills, and the ruddy light was streaming +through the long double row of archways and over the pavements of +crimson marble. But Hermas turned his back to the morning, and +walked with his shadow before him. + +The street began to swarm and whirl and quiver with the motley life +of a huge city: beggars and jugglers, dancers and musicians, gilded +youths in their chariots, and daughters of joy looking out from +their windows, all intoxicated with the mere delight of living and +the gladness of a new day. The pagan populace of Antioch-- +reckless, pleasure-loving, spendthrift--were preparing for the +Saturnalia. But all this Hermas had renounced. He cleft his way +through the crowd slowly, like a reluctant swimmer weary of +breasting the tide. + +At the corner of the street where the narrow, populous Lane of the +Camel-drivers crossed the Colonnades, a story-teller had bewitched a +circle of people around him. It was the same old tale of love and +adventure that many generations have listened to; but the lively +fancy of the hearers lent it new interest, and the wit of the +improviser drew forth sighs of interest and shouts of laughter. + +A yellow-haired girl on the edge of the throng turned, as Hermas +passed, and smiled in his face. She put out her hand and caught him +by the sleeve. + +"Stay," she said, "and laugh a bit with us. I know who you are-- +the son of Demetrius. You must have bags of gold. Why do you look so +black? Love is alive yet." + +Hermas shook off her hand, but not ungently. + +"I don't know what you mean," he said. "You are mistaken in me. I am +poorer than you are." + +But as he passed on, he felt the warm touch of her fingers through +the cloth on his arm. It seemed as if she had plucked him by the +heart. + +He went out by the Western Gate, under the golden cherubim that the +Emperor Titus had stolen from the ruined Temple of Jerusalem and +fixed upon the arch of triumph. He turned to the left, and climbed +the hill to the road that led to the Grove of Daphne. + +In all the world there was no other highway as beautiful. It wound +for five miles along the foot of the mountains, among gardens and +villas, plantations of myrtles and mulberries, with wide outlooks +over the valley of Orontes and the distant, shimmering sea. + +The richest of all the dwellings was the House of the Golden +Pillars, the mansion of Demetrius. He had won the favor of the +apostate Emperor Julian, whose vain efforts to restore the worship +of the heathen gods, some twenty years ago, had opened an easy way +to wealth and power for all who would mock and oppose Christianity. +Demetrius was not a sincere fanatic like his royal master; but he +was bitter enough in his professed scorn of the new religion, to +make him a favourite at the court where the old religion was in +fashion. He had reaped a rich reward of his policy, and a strange +sense of consistency made him more fiercely loyal to it than if it +had been a real faith. He was proud of being called "the friend of +Julian"; and when his son joined himself to the Christians, and +acknowledged the unseen God, it seemed like an insult to his +father's success. He drove the boy from his door and disinherited +him. + +The glittering portico of the serene, haughty house, the repose of +the well-ordered garden, still blooming with belated flowers, seemed +at once to deride and to invite the young outcast plodding along the +dusty road. "This is your birthright," whispered the clambering +rose-trees by the gate; and the closed portals of carven bronze +said: "You have sold it for a thought--a dream." + + + + + +II + +A CHRISTMAS LOSS + + + + + +HERMAS found the Grove of Daphne quite deserted. There was no sound +in the enchanted vale but the rustling of the light winds chasing +each other through the laurel thickets, and the babble of +innumerable streams. Memories of the days and nights of delicate +pleasure that the grove had often seen still haunted the bewildered +paths and broken fountains. At the foot of a rocky eminence, crowned +with the ruins of Apollo's temple, which had been mysteriously +destroyed by fire just after Julian had restored and reconsecrated +it, Hermas sat down beside a gushing spring, and gave himself up to +sadness. + +"How beautiful the world would be, how joyful, how easy to live in, +without religion. These questions about unseen things, perhaps about +unreal things, these restraints and duties and sacrifices--if I +were only free from them all, and could only forget them all, then I +could live my life as I pleased, and be happy." + +"Why not?" said a quiet voice at his back. + +He turned, and saw an old man with a long beard and a threadbare +cloak (the garb affected by the pagan philosophers) standing behind +him and smiling curiously. + +"How is it that you answer that which has not been spoken?" said +Hermas; "and who are you that honour me with your company?" + +"Forgive the intrusion," answered the stranger; "it is not ill +meant. A friendly interest is as good as an introduction." + +"But to what singular circumstance do I owe this interest?" + +"To your face," said the old man, with a courteous inclination. +"Perhaps also a little to the fact that I am the oldest inhabitant +here, and feel as if all visitors were my guests, in a way" + +"Are you, then, one of the keepers of the grove? And have you given +up your work with the trees to take a holiday as a philosopher?" + +"Not at all. The robe of philosophy is a mere affectation, I must +confess. I think little of it. My profession is the care of altars. +In fact, I am that solitary priest of Apollo whom the Emperor Julian +found here when he came to revive the worship of the grove, some +twenty years ago. You have heard of the incident?" + +"Yes," said Hermas, beginning to be interested; "the whole city must +have heard of it, for it is still talked of. But surely it was a +strange sacrifice that you brought to celebrate the restoration of +Apollo's temple?" + +"You mean the goose? Well, perhaps it was not precisely what the +emperor expected. But it was all that I had, and it seemed to me not +inappropriate. You will agree to that if you are a Christian, as I +guess from your dress." + +"You speak lightly for a priest of Apollo." + +"Oh, as for that, I am no bigot. The priesthood is a professional +matter, and the name of Apollo is as good as any other. How many +altars do you think there have been in this grove?" + +"I do not know." + +"Just four-and-twenty, including that of the martyr Babylas, whose +ruined chapel you see just beyond us. I have had something to do +with most of them in my time. They--are transitory. They give +employment to care-takers for a while. But the thing that lasts, and +the thing that interests me, is the human life that plays around +them. The game has been going on for centuries. It still disports +itself very pleasantly on summer evenings through these shady walks. +Believe me, for I know. Daphne and Apollo were shadows. But the +flying maidens and the pursuing lovers, the music and the dances, +these are the realities. Life is the game, and the world keeps it up +merrily. But you? You are of a sad countenance for one so young and +so fair. Are you a loser in the game?" + +The words and tone of the speaker fitted Hermas' mood as a key fits +the lock. He opened his heart to the old man, and told him the story +of his life: his luxurious boyhood in his father's house; the +irresistible spell which compelled him to forsake it when he heard +John's preaching of the new religion; his lonely year with the +anchorites among the mountains; the strict discipline in his +teacher's house at Antioch; his weariness of duty, his distaste for +poverty, his discontent with worship. + +"And to-day," said he, "I have been thinking that I am a fool. My +life is swept as bare as a hermit's cell. There is nothing in it but +a dream, a thought of God, which does not satisfy me." + +The singular smile deepened on his companion's face. "You are ready, +then," he suggested, "to renounce your new religion and go back to +that of your father?" + +"No; I renounce nothing, I accept nothing. I do not wish to think +about it. I only wish to live." + +"A very reasonable wish, and I think you are about to see its +accomplishment. Indeed, I may even say that I can put you in the way +of securing it. Do you believe in magic?" + +"I have told you already that I do not know whether I believe in +anything. This is not a day on which I care to make professions of +faith. I believe in what I see. I want what will give me pleasure." + +"Well," said the old man, soothingly, as he plucked a leaf from the +laurel-tree above them and dipped it in the spring, "let us dismiss +the riddles of belief. I like them as little as you do. You know +this is a Castalian fountain. The Emperor Hadrian once read his +fortune here from a leaf dipped in the water. Let us see what this +leaf tells us. It is already turning yellow. How do you read that?" + +"Wealth," said Hermas, laughing, as he looked at his mean garments. + +"And here is a bud on the stem that seems to be swelling. What is +that?" + +"Pleasure," answered Hermas, bitterly. + +"And here is a tracing of wreaths upon the surface. What do you make +of that?" + +"What you will," said Hermas, not even taking the trouble to look. +"Suppose we say success and fame?" + +"Yes," said the stranger; "it is all written here. I promise that +you shall enjoy it all. But you do not need to believe in my +promise. I am not in the habit of requiring faith of those whom I +would serve. No such hard conditions for me! There is only one thing +that I ask. This is the season that you Christians call the +Christmas, and you have taken up the pagan custom of exchanging +gifts. Well, if I give to you, you must give to me. It is a small +thing, and really the thing you can best afford to part with: a +single word--the name of Him you profess to worship. Let me take +that word and all that belongs to it entirely out of your life, so +that you shall never need to hear it or speak it again. You will be +richer without it. I promise you everything, and this is all I ask +in return. Do you consent?" + +"Yes, I consent," said Hermas, mocking. "If you can take your price, +a word, you can keep your promise, a dream." + +The stranger laid the long, cool, wet leaf softly across the young +man's eyes. An icicle of pain darted through them; every nerve in +his body was drawn together there in a knot of agony. + +Then all the tangle of pain seemed to be lifted out of him. A cool +languor of delight flowed back through every vein, and he sank into +a profound sleep. + + + + + + +III + +PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL + + + + + +THERE is a slumber so deep that it annihilates time. It is like a +fragment of eternity. Beneath its enchantment of vacancy, a day +seems like a thousand years, and a thousand years might well pass as +one day. + +It was such a sleep that fell upon Hermas in the Grove of Daphne. An +immeasurable period, an interval of life so blank and empty that he +could not tell whether it was long or short, had passed over him +when his senses began to stir again. The setting sun was shooting +arrows of gold under the glossy laurel-leaves. He rose and stretched +his arms, grasping a smooth branch above him and shaking it, to make +sure that he was alive. Then he hurried back toward Antioch, +treading lightly as if on air. + +The ground seemed to spring beneath his feet. Already his life had +changed, he knew not how. Something that did not belong to him had +dropped away; he had returned to a former state of being. He felt as +if anything might happen to him, and he was ready for anything. He +was a new man, yet curiously familiar to himself--as if he had +done with playing a tiresome part and returned to his natural state. +He was buoyant and free, without a care, a doubt, a fear. + +As he drew near to his father's house he saw a confusion of servants +in the porch, and the old steward ran down to meet him at the gate. + +"Lord, we have been seeking you everywhere. The master is at the +point of death, and has sent for you. Since the sixth hour he calls +your name continually. Come to him quickly, lord, for I fear the +time is short." + +Hermas entered the house at once; nothing could amaze him to-day. +His father lay on an ivory couch in the inmost chamber, with +shrunken face and restless eyes, his lean fingers picking +incessantly at the silken coverlet. + +"My son!" he murmured; "Hermas, my son! It is good that you have +come back to me. I have missed you. I was wrong to send you away. +You shall never leave me again. You are my son, my heir. I have +changed everything. Hermas, my son, come nearer--close beside me. +Take my hand, my son!" + +The young man obeyed, and, kneeling by the couch, gathered his +father's cold, twitching fingers in his firm, warm grasp. + +"Hermas, life is passing--long, rich, prosperous; the last sands, +I--cannot stay them. My religion, a good policy--Julian was my +friend. But now he is gone--where? My soul is empty--nothing +beyond--very dark--I am afraid. But you know something better. +You found something that made you willing to give up your life for +it--it must have been almost like dying--yet you were happy. +What was it you found? See, I am giving you everything. I have +forgiven you. Now forgive me. Tell me, what is it? Your secret, your +faith--give it to me before I go." + +At the sound of this broken pleading a strange passion of pity and +love took the young man by the throat. His voice shook a little as +he answered eagerly: + +"Father, there is nothing to forgive. I am your son; I will gladly +tell, you all that I know. I will give you the secret of faith. +Father, you must believe with all your heart, and soul, and strength +in--" + +Where was the word--the word that he had been used to utter night +and morning, the word that had meant to him more than he had ever +known? What had become of it? + +He groped for it in the dark room of his mind. He had thought he +could lay his hand upon it in a moment, but it was gone. Some one +had taken it away. Everything else was most clear to him: the terror +of death; the lonely soul appealing from his father's eyes; the +instant need of comfort and help. But at the one point where he +looked for help he could find nothing; only an empty space. The word +of hope had vanished. He felt for it blindly and in desperate haste. + +"Father, wait! I have forgotten something--it has slipped away +from me. I shall find it in a moment. There is hope--I will tell +you presently--oh, wait!" + +The bony hand gripped his like a vice; the glazed eyes opened wider. +"Tell me," whispered the old man; "tell me quickly, for I must go." + +The voice sank into a dull rattle. The fingers closed once more, and +relaxed. The light behind the eyes went out. + +Hermas, the master of the House of the Golden Pillars, was keeping +watch by the dead. + + + + + + +IV + +LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD + + + + + +THE break with the old life was as clean as if it had been cut with +a knife. Some faint image of a hermit's cell, a bare lodging in a +back street of Antioch, a class-room full of earnest students, +remained in Hermas' memory. Some dull echo of the voice of John the +Presbyter, and the murmured sound of chanting, and the murmur of +great congregations, still lingered in his ears; but it was like +something that had happened to another person, something that he had +read long ago, but of which he had lost the meaning. + +His new life was full and smooth and rich--too rich for any sense +of loss to make itself felt. There were a hundred affairs to busy +him, and the days ran swiftly by as if they were shod with winged +sandals. + +Nothing needed to be considered, prepared for, begun. Everything was +ready and waiting for him. All that he had to do was to go on with +it. The estate of Demetrius was even greater than the world had +supposed. There were fertile lands in Syria which the emperor had +given him, marble-quarries in Phrygia, and forests of valuable +timber in Cilicia; the vaults of the villa contained chests of gold +and silver; the secret cabinets in the master's room were full of +precious stones. The stewards were diligent and faithful. The +servants of the magnificent household rejoiced at the young master's +return. His table was spread; the rose-garland of pleasure was woven +for his head, and his cup was already filled with the spicy wine of +power. + +The period of mourning for his father came at a fortunate moment, to +seclude and safeguard him from the storm of political troubles and +persecutions that fell upon Antioch after the insults offered by the +mob to the imperial statues in the year 887. The friends of +Demetrius, prudent and conservative persons, gathered around Hermas +and made him welcome to their circle. Chief among them was Libanius, +the sophist, his nearest neighbour, whose daughter Athenais had been +the playmate of Hermas in the old days. + +He had left her a child. He found her a beautiful woman. What +transformation is so magical, so charming, as this? To see the +uncertain lines of-youth rounded into firmness and symmetry, to +discover the half-ripe, merry, changing face of the girl matured +into perfect loveliness, and looking at you with calm, clear, +serious eyes, not forgetting the past, but fully conscious of the +changed present--this is to behold a miracle in the flesh. + +"Where have you been, these two years?" said Athenais, as they +walked together through the garden of lilies where they had so often +played. + +"In a land of tiresome dreams," answered Hermas; "but you have +wakened me, and I am never going back again." + +It was not to be supposed that the sudden disappearance of Hermas +from among his former associates could long remain unnoticed. At +first it was a mystery. There was a fear, for two or three days, +that he might be lost. Some of his more intimate companions +maintained that his devotion had led him out into the desert to join +the anchorites. But the news of his return to the House of the +Golden Pillars, and of his new life as its master, filtered quickly +through the gossip of the city. + +Then the church was filled with dismay and grief and reproach. +Messengers and letters were sent to Hermas. They disturbed him a +little, but they took no hold upon him. It seemed to him as if the +messengers spoke in a strange language. As he read the letters there +were words blotted out of the writing which made the full sense +unintelligible. + +His old companions came to reprove him for leaving them, to warn him +of the peril of apostasy, to entreat him to return. It all sounded +vague and futile. They spoke as if he had betrayed or offended some +one; but when they came to name the object of his fear--the one +whom he had displeased, and to whom he should return--he heard +nothing; there was a blur of silence in their speech. The clock +pointed to the hour, but the bell did not strike. At last Hermas +refused to see them any more. + +One day John the Presbyter stood in the atrium. Hermas was +entertaining Libanius and Athenais in the banquet-hall. When the +visit of the Presbyter was announced, the young master loosed a +collar of gold and jewels from his neck, and gave it to his scribe. + +"Take this to John of Antioch, and tell him it is a gift from his +former pupil--as a token of remembrance, or to spend for the poor +of the city. I will always send him what he wants, but it is idle +for us to talk together any more. I do not understand what he says. +I have not gone to the temple, nor offered sacrifice, nor denied his +teaching. I have simply forgotten. I do not think about those things +any longer. I am only living. A happy man wishes him all happiness +and farewell." + +But John let the golden collar fall on the marble floor. "Tell your +master that we shall talk together again, after all," said he, as he +passed sadly out of the hall. + +The love of Athenais and Hermas was like a tiny rivulet that sinks +out of sight in a cavern, but emerges again as a bright and brimming +stream. The careless comradery of childhood was mysteriously changed +into a complete companionship. + +When Athenais entered the House of the Golden Pillars as a bride, +all the music of life came with her. Hermas called the feast of her +welcome "the banquet of the full chord." Day after day, night after +night, week after week, month after month, the bliss of the home +unfolded like a rose of a thousand leaves. When a child came to +them, a strong, beautiful boy, worthy to be the heir of such a +house, the heart of the rose was filled with overflowing fragrance. +Happiness was heaped upon happiness. Every wish brought its own +accomplishment. Wealth, honour, beauty, peace, love--it was an +abundance of felicity so great that the soul of Hermas could hardly +contain it. + +Strangely enough, it began to press upon him, to trouble him with +the very excess of joy. He felt as if there were something yet +needed to complete and secure it all. There was an urgency within +him, a longing to find some outlet for his feelings, he knew not how-- +some expression and culmination of his happiness, he knew not +what. + +Under his joyous demeanour a secret fire of restlessness began to +burn--an expectancy of something yet to come which should put the +touch of perfection on his life, He spoke of it to Athenais, as they +sat together, one summer evening, in a bower of jasmine, with their +boy playing at their feet. There had been music in the garden; but +now the singers and lute-players had withdrawn, leaving the master +and mistress alone in the lingering twilight, tremulous with +inarticulate melody of unseen birds. There was a secret voice in the +hour seeking vainly for utterance--a word waiting to be spoken at +the centre of the charm. + +"How deep is our happiness, my beloved!" said Hermas; "deeper than +the sea that slumbers yonder, below the city. And yet I feel it is +not quite full and perfect. There is a depth of joy that we have not +yet known--a repose of happiness that is still beyond us. What is +it? I have no superstitious fears, like the king who cast his +signet-ring into the sea because he dreaded that some secret +vengeance would fall on his unbroken good fortune. That was an idle +terror. But there is something that oppresses me like an invisible +burden. There is something still undone, unspoken, unfelt-- +something that we need to complete everything. Have you not felt +it, too? Can you not lead me to it?" + +"Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to his face; "I, too, have +felt it, Hermas, this burden, this need, this unsatisfied longing. I +think I know what it means. It is gratitude--the language of the +heart, the music of happiness. There is no perfect joy without +gratitude. But we have never learned it, and the want of it troubles +us. It is like being dumb with a heart full of love. We must find +the word for it, and say it together. Then we shall be perfectly +joined in perfect joy. Come, my dear lord, let us take the boy with +us, and give thanks." + +Hermas lifted the child in his arms, and turned with Athenais into +the depth of the garden. There was a dismantled shrine of some +forgotten fashion of worship half hidden among the luxuriant +flowers. A fallen image lay beside it, face downward in the grass. +They stood there, hand in hand, the boy drowsily resting on his +father's shoulder--a threefold harmony of strength and beauty and +innocence. + +Silently the roseate light caressed the tall spires of the +cypress-trees; silently the shadows gathered at their feet; silently +the crystal stars looked out from the deepening arch of heaven. The +very breath of being paused. It was the hour of culmination, the +supreme moment of felicity waiting for its crown. The tones of +Hermas were clear and low as he began, half speaking and half +chanting, in the rhythm of an ancient song: + +"Fair is the world, the sea, the sky, the double kingdom of day and +night, in the glow of morning, in the shadow of evening, and under +the dripping light of stars. + +"Fairer still is life in our breasts, with its manifold music and +meaning, with its wonder of seeing and hearing and feeling and +knowing and being. + +"Fairer and still more fair is love, that draws us together, mingles +our lives in its flow, and bears them along like a river, strong and +clear and swift, rejecting the stars in its bosom. + +"Wide is our world; we are rich; we have all things. Life is +abundant within us--a measureless deep. Deepest of all is our +love, and it longs to speak. + +"Come, thou final word! Come, thou crown of speech! Come, thou charm +of peace! Open the gates of our hearts. Lift the weight of our joy +and bear it upward. + +"For all good gifts, for all perfect gifts, for love, for life, for +the world, we praise, we bless, we thank--" + +As a soaring bird, struck by an arrow, falls headlong from the sky, +so the song of Hermas fell. At the end of his flight of gratitude +there was nothing--a blank, a hollow space. + +He looked for a face, and saw a void. He sought for a hand, and +clasped vacancy. His heart was throbbing and swelling with passion; +the bell swung to and fro within him, beating from side to side as +if it would burst; but not a single note came from it. All the +fulness of his feeling, that had risen upward like a living +fountain, fell back from the empty sky, as cold as snow, as hard as +hail, frozen and dead. There was no meaning in his happiness. No one +had sent it to him. There was no one to thank for it. His felicity +was a closed circle, a wall of eternal ice. + +"Let us go back," he said sadly to Athenais; "the child is heavy +upon my shoulder. We will lay him to sleep, and go into the library. +The air grows chilly. We were mistaken. The gratitude of life is +only a dream. There is no one to thank." + +And in the garden it was already night. + + + + + + +V + +RICHES WITHOUT REST + + + + + +NO outward change came to the House of the Golden Pillars. +Everything moved as smoothly, as delicately, as prosperously, as +before. But inwardly there was a subtle, inexplicable +transformation. A vague discontent--a final and inevitable sense +of incompleteness, overshadowed existence from that night when +Hermas realized that his joy could never go beyond itself. + +The next morning the old man whom he had seen in the Grove of +Daphne, but never since, appeared mysteriously at the door of the +house, as if he had been sent for, and entered, to dwell there like +an invited guest. + +Hermas could not but make him welcome, and at first he tried to +regard him with reverence and affection as the one through whom +fortune had come. But it was impossible. There was a chill in the +inscrutable smile of Marcion, as he called himself, that seemed to +mock at reverence. He was in the house as one watching a strange +experiment--tranquil, interested, ready to supply anything that +might be needed for its completion, but thoroughly indifferent to +the feelings of the subject; an anatomist of life, looking curiously +to see how long it would continue, and how it would behave, after +the heart had been removed. + +In his presence Hermas was conscious of a certain irritation, a +resentful anger against the calm, frigid scrutiny of the eyes that +followed him everywhere, like a pair of spies, peering out over the +smiling mouth and the long white beard. + +"Why do you look at me so curiously?" asked Hermas, one morning, as +they sat together in the library. "Do you see anything strange in +me?" + +"No," answered Marcion; "something familiar." + +"And what is that?" + +"A singular likeness to a discontented young man that I met some +years ago in the Grove of Daphne." + +"But why should that interest you? Surely it was to be expected." + +"A thing that we expect often surprises us when we see it. Besides, +my curiosity is piqued. I suspect you of keeping a secret from me." + +"You are jesting with me. There is nothing in my life that you do +not know. What is the secret?" + +"Nothing more than the wish to have one. You are growing tired of +your bargain. The game wearies you. That is foolish. Do you want to +try a new part?" + +The question was like a mirror upon which one comes suddenly in a +half-lighted. room, A quick illumination falls on it, and the +passer-by is startled by the look of his own face. + +"You are right," said Hermas. "I am tired. We have been going on +stupidly in this house, as if nothing were possible but what my +father had done before me. There is nothing original in being rich, +and well fed, and well dressed. Thousands of men have tried it, and +have not been very well satisfied. Let us do something new. Let us +make a mark in the world." + +"It is well said," nodded the old man; "you are speaking again like +a man after my own heart. There is no folly but the loss of an +opportunity to enjoy a new sensation." + +From that day Hermas seemed to be possessed with a perpetual haste, +an uneasiness that left him no repose. The summit of life had been +attained, the highest possible point of felicity. Henceforward the +course could only be at a level--perhaps downward. It might be +brief; at the best it could not be very long. It was madness to lose +a day, an hour. That would be the only fatal mistake: to forfeit +anything of the bargain that he had made. He would have it, and hold +it, and enjoy it all to the full. The world might have nothing +better to give than it had already given; but surely it had many +things that were new to bestow upon him, and Marcion should help him +to find them. + +Under his learned counsel the House of the Golden Pillars took on a +new magnificence. Artists were brought from Corinth and Rome and +Byzantium to adorn it with splendour. Its fame glittered around the +world. Banquets of incredible luxury drew the most celebrated guests +into its triclinium, and filled them with envious admiration. The +bees swarmed and buzzed about the golden hive. The human insects, +gorgeous moths of pleasure and greedy flies of appetite, parasites +and flatterers and crowds of inquisitive idlers, danced and +fluttered in the dazzling light that surrounded Hermas. + +Everything that he touched prospered. He bought a tract of land in +the Caucasus, and emeralds were discovered among the mountains. He +sent a fleet of wheat-ships to Italy, and the price of grain doubled +while it was on the way. He sought political favour with the +emperor, and was rewarded with the governorship of the city. His +name was a word to conjure with. + +The beauty of Athenais lost nothing with the passing seasons, but +grew more perfect, even under the inexplicable shade of +dissatisfaction that sometimes veiled it as a translucent cloud that +passes before the full moon. "Fair as the wife of Hermas" was a +proverb in Antioch; and soon men began to add to it, "Beautiful as +the son of Hermas"; for the child developed swiftly in that +favouring clime. At nine years of age he was straight and strong, +firm of limb and clear of eye. His brown head was on a level with +his father's heart. He was the jewel of the House of the Golden +Pillars; the pride of Hermas, the new Fortunatus. + +That year another drop of success fell into his brimming cup. His +black Numidian horses, which he had been training for three years +for the world-renowned chariot-races of Antioch, won the victory +over a score of rivals. Hermas received the prize carelessly from +the judge's hands, and turned to drive once more around the circus, +to show himself to the people. He lifted the eager boy into the +chariot beside him to share his triumph. + +Here, indeed, was the glory of his life--this matchless son, his +brighter counterpart carved in breathing ivory, touching his arm, +and balancing himself proudly on the swaying floor of the chariot. +As the horses pranced around the ring, a great shout of applause +filled the amphitheatre, and thousands of spectators wavd their +salutations of praise: "Hail, fortunate Hermas, master of success! +Hail, little Hermas, prince of good luck!" + +The sudden tempest of acclamation, the swift fluttering of +innumerable garments in the air, startled the horses. They dashed +violently forward, and plunged upon the bits. The left rein broke. +They swerved to the right, swinging the chariot sideways with a +grating noise, and dashing it against the stone parapet of the +arena. In an instant the wheel was shattered. The axle struck the +ground, and the chariot was dragged onward, rocking and staggering. + +By a strenuous effort Hermas kept his place on the frail platform, +clinging to the unbroken rein. But the boy was tossed lightly from +his side at the first shock. His head struck the wall. And when +Hermas turned to look for him, he was lying like a broken flower on +the sand. + + + + + + +VI + +GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY + + + + + +THEY carried the boy in a litter to the House of the Golden Pillars, +summoning the most skilful physician of Antioch to attend him. For +hours the child was as quiet as death. Hermas watched the white +eyelids, folded close like lily-buds at night, even as one watches +for the morning. At last they opened; but the fire of fever was +burning in the eyes, and the lips were moving in a wild delirium. + +Hour after hour that sweet childish voice rang through the halls and +chambers of the splendid, helpless house, now rising in shrill calls +of distress and senseless laughter, now sinking in weariness and +dull moaning. The stars waxed and waned; the sun rose and set; the +roses bloomed and fell in the garden, the birds sang and slept among +the jasmine-bowers. But in the heart of Hermas there was no song, no +bloom, no light--only speechless anguish, and a certain fearful +looking-for of desolation. + +He was like a man in a nightmare. He saw the shapeless terror that +was moving toward him, but he was impotent to stay or to escape it. +He had done all that he could. There was nothing left but to wait. + +He paced to and fro, now hurrying to the boy's bed as if he could +not bear to be away from it, now turning back as if he could not +endure to be near it. The people of the house, even Athenais, feared +to speak to him, there was something so vacant and desperate in his +face. + +At nightfall, on the second of those eternal days, he shut himself +in the library. The unfilled lamp had gone out, leaving a trail of +smoke in the air. The sprigs of mignonette and rosemary, with which +the room was sprinkled every day, were unrenewed, and scented the +gloom with a close odor of decay. A costly manuscript of Theocritus +was tumbled in disorder on the floor. Hermas sank into a chair like +a man in whom the very spring of being is broken. Through the +darkness some one drew near. He did not even lift his head. A hand +touched him; a soft arm was laid over his shoulders. It was +Athenais, kneeling beside him and speaking very low: + +"Hermas--it is almost over--the child! His voice grows weaker +hour by hour. He moans and calls for some one to help him; then he +laughs. It breaks my heart. He has just fallen asleep. The moon is +rising now. Unless a change comes he cannot last till sunrise. Is +there nothing we can do? Is there no power that can save him? Is +there no one to pity us and spare us? Let us call, let us beg for +compassion and help; let us pray for his life!" + +Yes; that was what he wanted--that was the only thing that could +bring relief: to pray; to pour out his sorrow somewhere; to find a +greater strength than his own, and cling to it and plead for mercy +and help. To leave that undone was to be false to his manhood; it +was to be no better than the dumb beasts when their young perish. +How could he let his boy suffer and die, without an effort, a cry, a +prayer? + +He sank on his knees beside Athenais. + +"Out of the depths--out of the depths we call for pity. The light +of our eyes is fading--the child is dying. Oh, the child, the +child! Spare the child's life, thou merciful--" + +Not a word; only that deathly blank. The hands of Hermas, stretched +out in supplication, touched the marble table. He felt the cool +hardness of the polished stone beneath his fingers. A book, +dislodged by his touch, fell rustling to the floor. Through the open +door, faint and far off, came the footsteps of the servants, moving +cautiously. The heart of Hermas was like a lump of ice in his bosom. +He rose slowly to his feet, lifting Athenais with him. + +"It is in vain," he said; "there is nothing for us to do. Long ago I +knew something. I think it would have helped us. But I have +forgotten it. It is all gone. But I would give all that I have, if I +could bring it back again now, at this hour, in this time of our +bitter trouble." + +A slave entered the room while he was speaking, and approached +hesitatingly. + +"Master," he said, "John of Antioch, whom we were forbidden to admit +to the house, has come again. He would take no denial. Even now he +waits in the peristyle; and the old man Marcion is with him, seeking +to turn him away." + +"Come," said Hermas to his wife, "let us go to him; for I think I +see the beginning of a way that may lead us out of this dreadful +darkness." + +In the central hall the two men were standing; Marcion, with +disdainful eyes and sneering lips, taunting the unbidden guest to +depart; John silent, quiet, patient, while the wondering slaves +looked on in dismay. He lifted his searching gaze to the haggard +face of Hermas. + +"My son, I knew that I should see you again, even though you did not +send for me. I have come to you because I have heard that you are in +trouble." + +"It is true," answered Hermas, passionately; "we are in trouble, +desperate trouble, trouble accursed. Our child is dying. We are +poor, we are destitute, we are afflicted. In all this house, in all +the world, there is no one that can help us. I knew something long +ago, when I was with you,--a word, a name,--in which we might +have found hope. But I have lost it. I gave it to this man. He has +taken it away from me forever." + +He pointed to Marcion. The old man's lips curled scornfully. "A +word, a name!" he sneered. "What is that, O most wise and holy +Presbyter? A thing of air, an unreal thing that men make to describe +their own dreams and fancies. Who would go about to rob any one of +such a thing as that? It is a prize that only a fool would think of +taking. Besides, the young man parted with it of his own free will. +He bargained with me cleverly. I promised him wealth and pleasure +and fame. What did he give in return? An empty name, which was a +burden--" + +"Servant of demons, be still!" The voice of John rang clear, like a +trumpet, through the hall. "There is a name which none shall dare to +take in vain. There is a name which none can lose without being +lost. There is a name at which the devils tremble. Depart quickly, +before I speak it!" + +Marcion had shrunk into the shadow of one of the pillars. A bright +lamp near him tottered on its pedestal and fell with a crash. In the +confusion he vanished, as noiselessly as a shade. + +John turned to Hermas, and his tone softened as he said: "My son, +you have sinned deeper than you know. The word with which you parted +so lightly is the key-word of all life and joy and peace. Without it +the world has no meaning, and existence no rest, and death no +refuge. It is the word that purifies love, and comforts grief, and +keeps hope alive forever. It is the most precious thing that ever +ear has heard, or mind has known, or heart has conceived. It is the +name of Him who has given us life and breath and all things richly +to enjoy; the name of Him who, though we may forget Him, never +forgets us; the name of Him who pities us as you pity your suffering +child; the name of Him who, though we wander far from Him, seeks us +in the wilderness, and sent His Son, even as His Son has sent me +this night, to breathe again that forgotten name in the heart that +is perishing without it. Listen, my son, listen with all your soul +to the blessed name of God our Father." + +The cold agony in the breast of Hermas dissolved like a fragment of +ice that melts in the summer sea. A sense of sweet release spread +through him from head to foot. The lost was found. The dew of a +divine peace fell on his parched soul, and the withering flower of +human love lifted its head again. The light of a new hope shone on +his face. He stood upright, and lifted his hands high toward heaven. + +"Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord! O my God, be +merciful to me, for my soul trusteth in Thee. My God, Thou hast +given; take not Thy gift away from me, O my God! Spare the life of +this my child, O Thou God, my Father, my Father!" + +A deep hush followed the cry. "Listen!" whispered Athenais, +breathlessly. + +Was it an echo? It could not be, for it came again--the voice of +the child, clear and low, waking from sleep, and calling: "My +father, my father!" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lost Word, by Henry Van Dyke + diff --git a/old/lstwd10.zip b/old/lstwd10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..594ec16 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lstwd10.zip |