登陆注册
15453000000001

第1章 THE MAHATMA(1)

Everyone has seen a hare, either crouched or running in the fields, or hanging dead in a poulterer's shop, or lastly pathetic, even dreadful-looking and in this form almost indistinguishable from a skinned cat, on the domestic table. But not many people have met a Mahatma, at least to their knowledge. Not many people know even who or what a Mahatma is. The majority of those who chance to have heard the title are apt to confuse it with another, that of Mad Hatter.

This is even done of malice prepense (especially, for obvious reasons, if a hare is in any way concerned) in scorn, not in ignorance, by persons who are well acquainted with the real meaning of the word and even with its Sanscrit origin. The truth is that an incredulous Western world puts no faith in Mahatmas. To it a Mahatma is a kind of spiritual Mrs. Harris, giving an address in Thibet at which no letters are delivered. Either, it says, there is no such person, or he is a fraudulent scamp with no greater occult powers--well, than a hare.

I confess that this view of Mahatmas is one that does not surprise me in the least. I never met, and I scarcely expect to meet, an individual entitled to set "Mahatma" after his name. Certainly /I/have no right to do so, who only took that title on the spur of the moment when the Hare asked me how I was called, and now make use of it as a /nom-de-plume/. It is true there is Jorsen, by whose order, for it amounts to that, I publish this history. For aught I know Jorsen may be a Mahatma, but he does not in the least look the part.

Imagine a bluff person with a strong, hard face, piercing grey eyes, and very prominent, bushy eyebrows, of about fifty or sixty years of age. Add a Scotch accent and a meerschaum pipe, which he smokes even when he is wearing a frock coat and a tall hat, and you have Jorsen. Ibelieve that he lives somewhere in the country, is well off, and practises gardening. If so he has never asked me to his place, and Ionly meet him when he comes to Town, as I understand, to visit flower-shows.

Then I always meet him because he orders me to do so, not by letter or by word of mouth but in quite a different way. Suddenly I receive an impression in my mind that I am to go to a certain place at a certain hour, and that there I shall find Jorsen. I do go, sometimes to an hotel, sometimes to a lodging, sometimes to a railway station or to the corner of a particular street and there I do find Jorsen smoking his big meerschaum pipe. We shake hands and he explains why he has sent for me, after which we talk of various things. Never mind what they are, for that would be telling Jorsen's secrets as well as my own, which I must not do.

It may be asked how I came to know Jorsen. Well, in a strange way.

Nearly thirty years ago a dreadful thing happened to me. I was married and, although still young, a person of some mark in literature. Indeed even now one or two of the books which I wrote are read and remembered, although it is supposed that their author has long left the world.

The thing which happened was that my wife and our daughter were coming over from the Channel Islands, where they had been on a visit (she was a Jersey woman), and, and--well, the ship was lost, that's all. The shock broke my heart, in such a way that it has never been mended again, but unfortunately did not kill me.

Afterwards I took to drink and sank, as drunkards do. Then the river began to draw me. I had a lodging in a poor street at Chelsea, and Icould hear the river calling me at night, and--I wished to die as the others had died. At last I yielded, for the drink had rotted out all my moral sense. About one o'clock of a wild, winter morning I went to a bridge I knew where in those days policemen rarely came, and listened to that call of the water.

"Come!" it seemed to say. "This world is the real hell, ending in the eternal naught. The dreams of a life beyond and of re-union there are but a demon's mocking breathed into the mortal heart, lest by its universal suicide mankind should rob him of his torture-pit. There is no truth in all your father taught you" (he was a clergyman and rather eminent in his profession), "there is no hope for man, there is nothing he can win except the deep happiness of sleep. Come and sleep."Such were the arguments of that Voice of the river, the old, familiar arguments of desolation and despair. I leant over the parapet; in another moment I should have been gone, when I became aware that some one was standing near to me. I did not see the person because it was too dark. I did not hear him because of the raving of the wind. But Iknew that he was there. So I waited until the moon shone out for a while between the edges of two ragged clouds, the shapes of which Ican see to this hour. It showed me Jorsen, looking just as he does to-day, for he never seems to change--Jorsen, on whom, to my knowledge, I had not set eyes before.

"Even a year ago," he said, in his strong, rough voice, "you would not have allowed your mind to be convinced by such arguments as those which you have just heard in the Voice of the river. That is one of the worst sides of drink; it decays the reason as it does the body.

You must have noticed it yourself."

I replied that I had, for I was surprised into acquiescence. Then Igrew defiant and asked him what he knew of the arguments which were or were not influencing me. To my surprise--no, that is not the word--to my bewilderment, he repeated them to me one by one just as they had arisen a few minutes before in my heart. Moreover, he told me what Ihad been about to do, and why I was about to do it.

"You know me and my story," I muttered at last.

"No," he answered, "at least not more than I know that of many men with whom I chance to be in touch. That is, I have not met you for nearly eleven hundred years. A thousand and eighty-six, to be correct.

I was a blind priest then and you were the captain of Irene's guard."At this news I burst out laughing and the laugh did me good.

同类推荐
热门推荐
  • 全能高手重回1998

    全能高手重回1998

    1998,林萧重生在石蜗村孤儿院。命运重启,他带着后世数不清的财富来到这里——苹果手机?那是我的专利。动漫产业?起兴于中国。社交平台,网络教育,购物网站,支付APP,文娱产业,一切尽在掌握之中!什么,你问这本书爽不爽?这不是废话嘛。
  • 蓝雪

    蓝雪

    序言:曾经有一个人说过,当幸福在你身边徘徊时,天空就会下起蓝色的雪,那将是你把握住幸福的时候,而我误以为在身边完美的就是爱情,而在身边不远处最完美的却被忽视了,在最后,当我真正把握住幸福的时候知道了——幸福来临时,天空真的会下起蓝色的雪,好美好美~~
  • 相贝经

    相贝经

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。
  • 极品神偷废柴小姐闹翻天

    极品神偷废柴小姐闹翻天

    她,二十一世纪组织金牌神偷,任务失败值百分之0,贪吃,贪财,贪睡,因一次偷盗任务,离奇穿越。她,靖凰界南洛国凌家六小姐,自小父母双亡,生性懦弱,被庶姐鞭打,含恨而死。当她变成她,灵魂转换,低沉的黑眸被灵动的琥珀所代替。什么?收了她的身体,就得替她报仇?开神马子玩笑,智斗什么的太费脑子了好吧。瓦只能保证不被欺负就行了。终于有本事了,呜呜,她是要众叛亲离呢?还是继续平凡呢?算了,惩处恶毒姐姐实在是太累了,她果断放弃,忍!南洛国三公主,忍!自家二姐,忍!赫连家七小姐,忍!终于在无数次的压榨下,某吃货爆发了,嗷呜~老虎不发威你当瓦是忍者神龟啊?!!公主敢欺负,她偷光她全家。二姐敢找茬,她找个乞丐毁了她,赫连七陷害,呵呵,为什么有一种想把爪子放在她脖子上的赶脚。他,南洛国质子,东寻国的神秘三皇子,俊逸若仙,温文雅尔,目空一切,仿佛世间一切事物都不能入了他的眼,却唯独对她情有独钟。穿越是什么?如果你这样问凌幽羽,她会立马回答:穿越就是一个逆天女主到处装逼,一群二货前来挡道,最终还是臣服在女主的淫威之下。
  • 重生之斩青丝

    重生之斩青丝

    重生后的祁愠觉得有必要认识一下自己的处境了。父亲疼爱,祖母和蔼,姨娘不敢掀风浪,庶妹没有小心机。大表姐还是贤良淑德的闺秀……等等,表姐?表姐,你的小跟班在召唤你!新人报道,慎入!
  • 九霄凌凰

    九霄凌凰

    或许我不是一个英雄,但从我决定坚守人类最后底线的一刻起,我的一生便注定不会平凡……
  • 福妻驾到

    福妻驾到

    现代饭店彪悍老板娘魂穿古代。不分是非的极品婆婆?三年未归生死不明的丈夫?心狠手辣的阴毒亲戚?贪婪而好色的地主老财?吃上顿没下顿的贫困宭境?不怕不怕,神仙相助,一技在手,天下我有!且看现代张悦娘,如何身带福气玩转古代,开面馆、收小弟、左纳财富,右傍美男,共绘幸福生活大好蓝图!!!!快本新书《天媒地聘》已经上架开始销售,只要3.99元即可将整本书抱回家,你还等什么哪,赶紧点击下面的直通车,享受乐乐精心为您准备的美食盛宴吧!)
  • 魅世倾舞:废材小姐逆天下

    魅世倾舞:废材小姐逆天下

    一个意外,让刚刚相遇的两人再次分离……穿越异世,两人再次相遇。彼时你说要护我一世长安,可是战火却打破了誓言;此时你高高在上,而我低如草芥,你说只要拜入你门便可护我一生长宁……于是,某女轻蔑一笑“想让我拜入你门,做梦!姐一定要闯出一片天下,唯我独尊!”可是,他却紧追不放,咬定不松口。某女一怒:“你丫的几个意思,姐不喜欢腹黑!!”谁知,他不怒反笑:“变态配腹黑不是绝配吗?随为夫回家成亲吧!!”
  • 兵者鬼道

    兵者鬼道

    少年简贝,原本是剑鼎山的少门主,但门派日渐式微,终于被人所灭。小小简贝担负血海深仇,苟延残喘活着。他被关入十八层鬼域空间中,承受身心两面苦楚。但依靠聪慧、机智、勇敢的心,一步步走出困境,绝地反击。《兵者鬼道》,讲述了一群修习“兵道”的强大的修行者的故事,在这个充满玄幻的世界里,有各种各样的神秘空间;形形色色的人物;大大小小的妖物;还有游离在冥界的魂鬼士。它们没有帝国,只有组织,它们贪婪无比,野性难驯,遵循着弱肉强食的生存法则。在这里,所有的生存物质,全部被划分,游离于组织之外的散人很难生存,弱小的简贝要想复仇,与强大的敌人周旋,必须得慢慢强大起来,一步步征收自己的部队,建立自己的组织,实现振兴家族的梦想。
  • 林默传

    林默传

    一个从魔兽森林中长大的少年出来后成长的故事。