El-Râmi

“ El-Râmi, my brother, leave something to God—you cannot, you dare not take all!”
“My dear visionary,” replied El-Râmi gently—“You alarm yourself needlessly, I assure you. I do not want to take anything except what is my own,—and, as for leaving something to God, why, He is welcome to what He makes of me in the end—a pinch of dust!”
“There is more than dust in your composition—” cried Féraz impetuously—“There is divinity! And the divinity belongs to God, and to God you must render it up, pure and perfect. He claims it from you, and you are bound to give it.” ”

“ At this hasty movement, El-Râmi turned slowly towards him with a grave yet kindly smile.
“Well, Féraz”—he said—“Do you still think me ‘wicked’ now you know all? Speak frankly—do not be afraid.”
Féraz paused, irresolute.
“I do not know what to think—” he answered hesitatingly,—“Your experiment is of course wonderful,—but—as I said before—to me, it seems terrible.”
“Life is terrible—” said El-Râmi—“Death is terrible,—Love is terrible,—God is terrible. All Nature’s pulses beat to the note of Terror,—terror of the Unknown that May Be,—terror of the Known that Is!” ”

“ El-Râmi’s dark features appeared to reflect the smile, as he gently touched his brother’s clustering curls, and said playfully:
“In spite of Zaroba?”
“In spite of Zaroba,” echoed Féraz mirthfully. “Poor Zaroba! she does not seem well, or happy. I fear she has offended you?”
“No, no,” said El-Râmi meditatively, “she has not offended me; she is too old to offend me. I cannot be angry with sorrowful and helpless age. And, if she is not well, we will make her well, and if she is not happy we will make her happy, ... and be happy ourselves—shall it not be so?” ”

“ Zaroba’s eyes flashed, and she threw up her skinny hands with a wrathful gesture.
“Dark humour!” she cried in accents that were almost shrill—“Ay!—and if it be so, El-Râmi, what is my humour to you? Am I anything more to you than a cipher,—a mere slave? What have the thoughts of a foolish woman, bent with years and close to the dark gateways of the tomb, to do with one who deems himself all wisdom? What are the feelings of a wretched perishable piece of flesh and blood to a self-centred god and opponent of Nature like El-Râmi-Zarânos?” ”

“ She broke off suddenly and drew a long deep breath, as of sheer delight,—but the shadow on El-Râmi’s features darkened wearily.
“You teach me nothing, Lilith”—he said sadly and somewhat sternly—“You speak of what you see—or what you think you see—but you cannot convince me of its truth.”
Her face grew paler,—the smile vanished from her lips, and all her delicate beauty seemed to freeze into a cold and grave rigidity.
“Love begets faith;”—she said—“Where we do not love, we doubt. Doubt breeds Evil, and Evil knows not God.” ”

“ Come back, Lilith! I call thee—come!”
A violent shudder shook the beautiful reposeful figure,—the smile faded from her lips, and she heaved a profound sigh.
“I am here!”
“Listen to my bidding!” said El-Râmi, in measured accents that sounded almost cruel. “As you have soared to heights ineffable, even so descend to lowest depths of desolation! Understand and seek out sorrow,—pierce to the root of suffering, explain the cause of unavailing agony! These things exist. ”

“ And, sighing lightly, he folded his arms cross-wise on his breast and stood erect and immovable, looking like some fine statue just endowed by magic with the flush of life. He resembled El-Râmi in features, but was fairer-skinned,—his eyes were softer and more femininely lovely,—his hair, black as night, clustered in thick curls over his brow, and his figure, straight as a young palm-tree, was a perfect model of strength united with grace. ”

“ El-Râmi entered the rich apartment, followed by Zaroba, and stood by the couch for some minutes in silence. Whatever his thoughts were, his face gave no clue to them,—his features being as impassive as though cast in bronze. Zaroba watched him curiously, her wrinkled visage expressive of some strongly-suppressed passion. The sleeping girl stirred and smiled in her sleep,—a smile that brightened her countenance as much as if a sudden glory had circled it with a halo.
“Ay, she lives for you!” said Zaroba. “And she grows fairer every day. She is the sun and you the snow. ”

“ Terrible is thy power, O El-Râmi, ruler of spirits! terrible, mystic, and wonderful! God must have given thee thy force, and I am but the meanest of slaves to rebel against thy command. Yet out of wisdom comes not happiness, but great grief and pain; and as I live, El-Râmi, in my rebellion I but dreamed of a love that should bring thee joy! ”

“ The Reverend Francis Anstruther moved uneasily in his chair, but managed to convey into his countenance the proper expression of politely incredulous astonishment.
“This natural law,” went on El-Râmi, laying one hand on the celestial globe as he spoke, “has been in existence ever since man’s formation, but we are only just now beginning to discover it, or rather re-discover it, since it was tolerably well known to the priests of ancient Egypt. You see this sphere;”—and he moved the celestial globe round slowly—“It represents the pattern of the heavens according to our solar system. ”

“ The red liquid ran over the stone like blood, crumbling it as it ran and extinguishing its brilliancy,—eating its substance away as rapidly as vitriol eats away the human skin,—blistering it and withering it visibly before Karl’s astonished eyes,—till, as El-Râmi had said, it was hardly distinguishable from the dust and mortar around it. ”

“ So that now even love is a thorn in the flesh and its prick must be paid with a price,—these are the hours of woe preceding the end. The blood that runs in your veins, El-Râmi, has sprung from kings and strong rulers of men,—and the pale faint spirits of this dull day have naught to do with its colour and glow. And it rebels, O El-Râmi!—as God liveth, it rebels!—it burns in your heart—the proud, strong heart,—like ruddy wine in a ruby cup; it rebels, El-Râmi!—it rises to passion as rise the waves of the sea to the moon, by a force and an impulse in Nature stronger than yours! ”

“ And, when all love is ended, Death is best.
The song ceased; but, though the singer’s voice no longer charmed the silence, his fingers still wandered over the keys of the piano, devising intricate passages of melody as delicate and devious as the warbling of nightingales. El-Râmi, unconsciously to himself, heaved a deep sigh, and Féraz, hearing it, looked round.
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked.
“No. I love to hear you; but, like many youthful poets, you sing of what you scarcely understand—love, for instance; you know nothing of love.” ”

“ Closer and closer he bent over Lilith’s exquisite form,—doubtfully and with a certain scorn of himself, he took up a shining tress of her glorious hair and looked at it curiously as though it were something new, strange, or unnatural. The little moth, disturbed, flew off the pillow and fluttered about his head in wild alarm, and El-Râmi watched its reckless flight as it made off towards the fatally-attractive lamp again, with meditative eyes, still mechanically stroking that soft lock of Lilith’s hair which he held between his fingers. ”

“ Now and again El-Râmi raised his eyes to the sparkling belt of Orion, which glittered aloft with a lustre that is seldom seen in the hazy English air;—he was thinking his own thoughts, and the fact that there were many passers to and fro in the streets besides himself did not appear to disturb him in the least, for he strode through their ranks without any hurry or jostling, as if he alone existed, and they were but shadows.
“What fools are the majority of men!” ”

“ No amount of philosophy or argument can argue away Discontent—it is a god-like disquietude ever fermenting changes among us, ever propounding new suggestions for happiness, ever restless, never satisfied. And El-Râmi would ask himself—Is Discontent the voice of the Soul?—not only the Universal Soul of things, but the Soul of each individual? Then, if individual, why should not the individual be made manifest, if manifestation be possible? ”

“ El-Râmi stood erect,—immovable;—he was very pale; his breath came and went quickly—once his hand clenched, but he said nothing.
“I have seen Her!” cried Féraz again, flinging up his arms with an ecstatic wild gesture—“A creature fairer than any vision!—and you—you have the heart to bind her fast in darkness and in nothingness,—you it is who have shut her sight to the world,—you have made for her, through your horrible skill, a living death in which she knows nothing, feels nothing, sees nothing, loves nothing! ”

“ El-Râmi opened his great flashing orbs and surveyed him first in surprise, then with a deep unutterable contempt. Unclasping the steel band that bound their two hands together, he flung it by, and rose to his feet.
“Lies?” he echoed indignantly. “Your whole life is a lie, and both Nature and Science are bound to give the reflex of it. What! would you play a double part with the Eternal Forces and think to succeed in such desperate fooling? ”

“ El-Râmi touched his clustering curls tenderly.
“You could have made music in it with your lute and voice, Féraz, had you chosen,” he said. “As for me, I went to see Hamlet.”
“Oh, why did you go?” demanded Féraz impetuously. “I would not see it—no! not for worlds! Such poetry must needs be spoilt by men’s mouthing of it,—it is better to read it, to think it, to feel it,—and so one actually sees it,—best.”
“You talk like a poet,”—said El-Râmi indulgently. “You are not much more than a boy, and you think the thoughts of youth. Have you any supper ready for me?” ”

“ Historians, priests, lawgivers, prophets and poets have all contributed to the Bible,—and when we detach class from class and put each in its proper place, without confounding them all together in an inextricable jumble as “Divine inspiration,” we obtain a better view of the final intention of the whole. El-Râmi considered Moses and Aaron in the light of particularly clever Eastern conjurers,—and not only conjurers, but tacticians and diplomatists, who had just the qualities necessary to rule a barbarous, ignorant, and rebellious people. ”

“ Cruel, cruel are the ways of the gods when they are thwarted;—there is no mercy in the blind eyes of Fate! To tempt Destiny is to ask the thunderbolt to fall and smite you,—to oppose the gods is as though a babe’s hand should essay to lift the Universe. Have I not prayed the Master, the wise and the proud El-Râmi Zarânos, to submit and not contend? As God liveth, I say, let us submit while we can like the slaves that we are, for in submission alone is safety!”
Féraz heard her with increasing irritation,—why need she come to him with all this melancholy jabbering, he thought angrily. ”

“ What should you do with yourself, frowning at Fate? You are a superb egoist,—no more.”
As he spoke, the roses in the vase beside him swayed lightly to and fro, as though a faint wind had fanned them, and their perfume stole upon the air like the delicate breath of summer wafted from some distant garden.
There was no window open—and El-Râmi had not stirred, so that no movement on his part could have shaken the vase,—and yet the roses quivered on their stalks as if brushed by a bird’s wing. ”

“ All thought escapes thus; you cannot keep it to yourself any more than you can have breath without breathing.”
“You mean that a thought belongs to all, and not to one individual?” said Irene.
“Yes, I mean that,” replied El-Râmi; “and thought, I may say, is the only reflex I can admit of possible Deity, because thought is free, absolute, all-embracing, creative, perpetual, and unwearied. Limitless too—great Heaven, how limitless! To what heights does it not soar? In what depths does it not burrow? How daring, how calm, how indifferent to the ocean-swell of approaching and receding ages! ”

“ The beautiful stag-like eyes of Féraz darkened slowly, and his slim hand involuntarily clenched.
“Ay, if God were so,” he said—“the veriest pigmy among men might boast of nobler qualities than He! But God is not so, El-Râmi! Of course you can argue any and every way, and I cannot confute your reasoning. Because you reason with the merely mortal intelligence; to answer you rightly I should have to reply as a Spirit,—I should need to be out of the body before I could tell you where you are wrong.” ”

“ I thank the gods that my ears are closed to the sound of human voices, and that neither reproach nor curse can move me to dismay. And I am ignorant of your magic, El-Râmi,—the magic that chills the blood and sends the spirit flitting through the land of dreams,—the only magic I know is the magic of the heart—of the passions,—a natural witchcraft that conquers the world!”
She waved her arms to and fro—then crossing them on her bosom, she made a profound half-mocking salutation. ”

“ She spoke of love,—not divine impersonal love, as was her wont,—but love that touched her own existence with a vaguely pleasing emotion. A voice had reached her that never should have been allowed to penetrate her spiritual solitude, and realising this, a sullen anger smouldered in El-Râmi’s mind. He strove to consider Zaroba’s fault and Féraz’s folly with all the leniency, forbearance, and forgiveness possible, and yet the strange restlessness within him gave him no peace. What should be done? ”

“ And whether I owe it to you, or to my own temperament, I have visions now and then—visions not only of love, but of fame—strange glories that I almost realise, yet cannot grasp. And there is a sadness and futility in it all that grieves me ... everything is so vague and swift and fleeting. Yet if love, as you say, be a mere chimera,—surely there is such a thing as Fame?”
“There is—” and El-Râmi’s eyes flashed, then darkened again—“There is the applause of this world, which may mean the derision of the next. Read on!”
Féraz obeyed. ”