Chapter XXXVIII

The gondola stopped finally at the outlet from the gardens and the park. The place was picturesque, and the stream lost itself amid antique rocks, and was no longer navigable. Consuelo had a very short time to consider the grand, moonlighted landscape. She was yet in the vast area of the palace grounds; but art here had only striven to preserve nature in its primitive beauty--the old trees, strewn by chance in the dark glades, the happy accidents of the landscape, the rugged hills, the unequal cascades, the herds of bounding and timid stags.

A new person now arrested Consuelo's attention: this was Gottlieb, who sat idly on a sedan chair, in the attitude of calm and reverie. He trembled as he recognised his prison friend; but, at a sign from Marcus, did not speak.

"You then forbid the poor child to shake hands with me?" said Consuelo, in a half whisper to her guide.

"When you have been initiated, you will be free in all your actions," said he. "Now be satisfied with seeing how much Gottlieb's health has been improved and how his physical power has been revived."

"Can I not, at least, know," said the neophyte, "whether he suffered persecution on my account, after my escape from Spandau? Excuse my impatience. This idea has never ceased to torment me, until the day when I saw him on the grounds of the house I live in."

"He has really suffered," said Marcus, "yet not for a long time. As soon as he knew you to be rescued, he boasted of having contributed to it; and his somnambulist revelations had nearly proved fatal to some of us. They wished to confine him in a madhouse, as much to punish him as to prevent him from aiding other prisoners to escape. He then fled; and as we had our eye upon him, he was brought hither, where we have attended both to his body and mind. We will return him to his country and his family when we have given him power, and prudence necessary to enable him to toil in our task, which now has become his own, for he is one of our purest and most useful adepts. The chair, however, is ready, madame: will you get into it? I will not leave you, though I confide you to the faithful arms of Karl and Gottlieb."

Consuelo sat quietly in the sedan, which was closed on every side, and which received air only from a few openings in the top. She saw, then, nothing that passed around her. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of the stars, and therefore thought she was in the open air. At other times she saw the transparent medium intercepted; she knew not whether by trees or by solid edifices. The persons who bore her sedan walked rapidly, and in the most profound silence. She sometimes attempted to discover, as their footsteps sounded on the sand, whether three or four persons accompanied her. Often she fancied that she discovered the step of Leverani on the right of the chair; this, however, might be an illusion, which she sought to avoid thinking of.

When the sedan paused, Consuelo could not refrain from a sentiment of terror, when she saw herself under the gateway of an old feudal mansion. The moon shed a full light on the court, which was surrounded with crumbling ruins, and filled with persons clad in white, who went and came, some alone and some clinging together, like fitful spectres. This dark arcade exhibited a blue, transparent fantastic picture. The wandering and silent shadows, speaking in a low tone, their noiseless motion over the grass, the appearance of the ruins, which Consuelo recognised as those she had seen before, and where she had seen Albert, made such an impression on her that she felt an almost superstitious awe. She looked instinctively for Leverani, who was with Marcus; but the darkness was so great that she could not distinguish which of the two offered her his hand. On this occasion her heart chilled with a sudden sadness, an indescribable fear, which rendered her almost senseless.

Her hood was so arranged, and her cloak so put on, that she could see every one without being recognised. Some one told her in a low voice not to speak a single word, no matter what she might see. She was then taken to the extremity of the court, where a strange spectacle met her glance.

A bell with a faint and melancholy sound collected the spectres in the round chapel, where Consuelo had at one time sought a shelter from the tempest. This chapel was now lighted with tapers, arranged in systematic order. The altar seemed to have been, recently built, was covered with a pall, and strewn with strange symbols. The emblems of Christianity were mingled with those of Judaism, Egyptian relics, and cabalistic tokens. In the centre of the choir, the area of which had been reconstructed with balustrades and symbolic columns, was seen a coffin encircled by tapers and covered with cross bones, surmounted by a death's head, in which burned a blood-colored light. Near to this cenotaph a young man was led. Consuelo could not see his features, as a large _bandeau_ covered half of his face. He seemed crushed by fatigue and emotion, and he had one arm and one leg bare. His arms were tied behind his back, his white robe was spotted with blood, and a ligature on his arm seemed to indicate that he had been bled. Two shadows with burning torches hovered around him, and on his breast were showers of sparks and clouds of smoke. Then there began, between him and those who presided over the ceremony, and who bore various unique insignia, a strange dialogue, which put Consuelo in mind of those Cagliostro had made her listen to at Berlin, between Albert and various unknown persons. Then spectres, armed with swords, whom she heard called the _terrible brothers_ placed the candidate on the floor, and, putting the points of their swords on his heart, while many others clashed their weapons, began an angry contest; some pretending to prevent the admission of a new brother, treating him as perverse, unworthy, and a traitor; while others pretended to fight for him, in the name of truth and right. This strange scene had the effect of a painful dream on Consuelo. This contest, these menaces, this magic worship, the sobs of the young men as they hung around the coffin, were so well feigned, that a spectator who had not been initiated would have been terrified. When the sponsors of the candidate had triumphed in the argument and the combat, he was lifted up and a dagger placed in his hand. He was ordered to advance and strike at any one who should oppose his entry into the temple.

Consuelo saw no more. At the moment when the candidate, with an uplifted arm, and in a kind of delirium, went towards a low door, the two guards who had not loosed Consuelo, now bore her rapidly away from so terrible a spectacle, and placing the hood over her head, took her through a multitude of windings and detours, to a place where all was silent as possible. There she was restored to light, and she saw herself in the octagonal room where she had overheard the conversation of Trenck and Albert. Every opening now was carefully veiled and shut; the walls and floor were hung with black, and tapers burned in a fashion and arrangement different from that in the chapel. An altar like Mount Calvary, surmounted with three crosses, marked the great fireplace. A tomb on which was placed a hammer and nails, a lance and crown of thorns, was in the centre of the room. Persons clad in black and in masks, knelt or sat on a carpet covered with silver tears. They neither wept nor sighed. Their attitude was that of austere meditation, or mute and silent grief.

The guides of Consuelo made her come to the very side of the coffin, and the men who guarded it having risen and stood at the foot, one of them said--

"Consuelo, you are come to witness the ceremony of a masonic initiation. You have seen an unknown worship, mysterious emblems, funereal images, initiating pontiffs, and a coffin. What do you learn from this scene--from the terrible tests to which the candidate has been subjected, from what has been said to him, and from the manifestations of respect and love around an illustrious tomb?"

"I do not know whether I understood correctly or not," said Consuelo. "This scene troubled me and seemed barbarous. I pitied the recipient, whose courage and virtue were subjected to practical proofs, as if physical courage was a guarantee for moral fortitude. I condemn what I have seen, and deplore the cruel sports of dark fanaticism, or the puerile experiences of an idolatrous creed. I heard obscure enigmas proposed, and the explanations given to the candidate seemed gathered from a gross or distrustful catechism. Yet this bloody tomb, this immolated victim--this ancient myth of Hiram, the divine architect, who was assassinated by his envious and covetous workmen--this sacred word, lost for centuries, and promised to the candidate as the magic key to open the temple to him--all this seems a symbol without grandeur and interest. Why is the fable so badly constructed and so doubtful in its application?"

"What mean you by that? Have you heard the story you speak of, as a fable?"

"I have heard it--long before I read the books I was directed to study during my seclusion--in this manner. Hiram, master-workman of Solomon's Temple, divided his workmen into classes. They had different duties and rewards. Three of the lower grade resolved to obtain the reward reserved to the higher class, and to wrest from Hiram the pass-word, the secret sign which enabled him to distinguish master-workmen from journeymen at pay-day. They watched for him while in the temple alone: and each posting himself at an outlet of the holy place, menaced, struck, and cruelly murdered him, without having been able to discover the sign which was to make them equal to him and his associates--the faithful adepts of the Temple. The friends of Hiram wept over his unhappy lot, and paid almost divine honors to his memory."

"And now, how do you explain that myth?"

"I thought of it before I came hither, and I understand it thus:--Hiram represents the cold intelligence and governmental skill of the old societies, the basis of which were the inequalities of condition and the influence of caste. This Egyptian fable suited the mysterious religion of the Hierophants well enough. The three ambitious men were Indignation, Revolt, and Vengeance. These are, probably, the three inferior grades of the sacerdotal order, who attempted to assume their rights by violence. The murder of Hiram conveys the idea of Despotism powerless and impotent. He died bearing in his breast the secret of subduing man by blindness and superstition."

"Is this the way you really interpret this myth?"

"I have learned from your books, that this was brought from the East by the Templars, and that they used it in their initiations. They must therefore have interpreted it nearly thus. But when they baptised Hiram, Theocracy--and the assassins, Impiety, Anarchy, and Ferocity--the Templars who wished to subject society to a kind of monastic despotism, deplored over Impotence, as represented by the murder of Hiram. The word of their empire--which was lost, and has since been found--was that of _association_, or cunning, like the ancient city or temple of Osiris. For that reason I am surprised at yet seeing this fable used in your initiations to the work of universal deliverance. I should consider it as only a test of mind and courage."

"Well, we, who did not invent the form of masonry, and who really use them as mere ordeals--we, who are more than masters and companions in this symbolical science, since, having passed through all the masonic grades, we have reached the point where we are no longer masons, as the vulgar understand the order--we adjure you to explain the myth of Hiram, as you understand it, that in relation to your zeal and intellect we may form an opinion which will either stop you here at the door of the true temple, or which will open the door of the sanctuary to you."

"You ask me for _Hiram's word_, the last word. That will not open the gates of the temple to me, for its translation is Tyranny and Falsehood. But I know the true words, the names of the three gates of the divine edifice, through which Hiram's murderers entered, for the purpose of forcing the chief to bury himself beneath the wrecks of his own work--they are _Liberty, Fraternity, Equality._"

"Consuelo, your interpretation, whether correct or not, reveals to us all your heart. You are, then, excused from the necessity of ever kneeling before Hiram's tomb; neither will you pass through the grade where the neophyte prostrates himself before the tomb of Jacques Molay, the Grand Master and victim of the temple, of the military works and prelate soldiers of the middle ages. You will triumph in this second test as you did in the first. You will discern the false traces of fanatical barbarity, which are now needed as a guarantee to minds which are imbued with the principles of inequality. Remember that in free-masonry, the first grades only aspire to the construction of a profane temple, an association protected by caste. You know better, and you are about to go directly to the universal temple, intended to receive all men associated in one worship and love. Here you must make your last station; you must worship Christ, and recognise him as the only true God."

"You say this to try me." said Consuelo firmly. "You have, however, deigned to open my eyes to lofty truths, by teaching me to read your secret books. Christ is a divine man, whom we revere as the greatest philosopher and saint of antiquity. We adore him as much as it is permitted us to adore the greatest of the masters and martyrs. We may well call him the saviour of men, because he taught those of his day truths they did not comprehend, but which introduced man into a new phase of light and holiness. We may kneel over his ashes to thank God for having created such a prophet--such an example. We however adore God in him, and commit no idolatry. We distinguish between the divinity of revelation and revelation itself. I consent to pay to the emblem of a punishment for ever sublime and illustrious, the homage of pious gratitude and filial enthusiasm. I do not think, however, the last word of revelation was understood and proclaimed by men in Jesus' time, for it has never yet been officially made known on earth. I expect, from the wisdom and faith of his disciples, from the continuation of his work for seventeen centuries, a more practical truth, a more complete application of holy writ to the doctrines of fraternity. I wait for the development of the gospel. I expect something more than equality before God. I wait for and expect it before men."

"Your words are bold, and your doctrines full. Have you thought of them while alone? Have you foreseen the evils your new faith has piled upon your head? Do you know that we are as one to a hundred in the most civilised countries in Europe? Do you know that at the time we live, between those who pay to Jesus, the sublime revealer, an insulting and base veneration, and those almost as numerous who deny even his mission, between these idolaters and atheists, we have no place under the sun, except amid persecutions and jests, the hatred and contempt of the human race? Do you know that in France, at the present moment, Rousseau and Voltaire are almost equally proscribed; yet one is decidedly religious and the other a skeptic? Do you know--and this is far more terrible--that while in exile they mutually proscribe each other? Do you know you are about to return to a world, where all will conspire to shake your faith and break your ideas? Know that you will have to exercise your mission amid suffering, danger, doubt, and deception?"

"I am resolved," said Consuelo, looking down, and placing her hand on her heart. "May God aid me!"

"Well, daughter," said Marcus, who yet held Consuelo's hand, "you are about to be subjected by us to moral sufferings--not to test your truth, for we are satisfied with it, but to fortify it. Not in the calm of repose--not amid the pleasures of the world, but amid grief and tears does faith expand. Have you courage to hear painful emotions, and perhaps to withstand great terror?"

"If it be needful, and if my soul profit by it, I will submit to your pleasure," said Consuelo, with some distress.

"The Invisibles at once began to move the pall and lights from the coffin, which was moved into one of the deep embrasures of the window, and several adepts with iron bars lifted up a round stone in the centre of the pavement of the hall. Consuelo then saw a circular opening large enough to permit one person to pass. The sides, which were of granite, blackened and stained by time, proved that it was as old as any portion of the architecture of the tower. Marcus then, leading Consuelo to the brink, asked her thrice, in a solemn tone, if she was bold enough to descend into the passages of the feudal tower."

"Hear me, my fathers or brothers, for I know not how to speak to you," said Consuelo.

"Call them brothers," said Marcus. "You are here among the Invisibles--your equals, if you persevere for an hour. You will now bid them adieu, to meet them at the expiration of that time, in the presence of the supreme chiefs--of those whose voice is never heard, whose face is never seen, and whom you will call fathers. They are the sovereign pontiffs, the spiritual chiefs and temporal lords of our sanctuary. We will appear before them and you with bare faces, if you have decided to rejoin us at the gate of the sanctuary, having passed that dark and terrible path opening beneath your feet, down which you must walk alone, without any guide but your courage and perseverance."

"I will do so," said the trembling neophyte, "if you desire it. But is this test, which you declare so trying, inevitable? Oh, my brothers, you certainly do not wish to sport with the reason of a woman, already too severely tried, from mere affectation and vanity. To-day you have subjected me to a long fast; and though emotion for several hours relieves us from hunger, I feel myself physically weakened. I know not whether or not I shall succumb to the labors to which you subject me. I care not, I protest to you, if my body suffers and becomes feeble; but would you not fancy mere physical weakness to be cowardice? Tell me you will pardon me for being endowed with a woman's nerve, if, when I regain my consciousness, I show that I have the heart of a man?"

"Poor child," said Marcus, "I would rather hear you own your weakness than seek to dazzle us by intemperate boldness. We will, if you choose, give you a single guide to aid and assist you in your pilgrimage. Brother," said he to Leverani, who had stood at the door during this conversation, with his eyes fixed on Consuelo, "take your sister's hand, and lead her to the general rendezvous."

"And will not you, brother," said Consuelo, "also go with me?"

"That is impossible. You can have but one guide; and the one I have pointed out is the only one I am permitted to give you?"

"I shall have courage enough," said Consuelo wrapping herself in her cloak. "I will go alone."

"Do you refuse the aid of a brother and a friend?"

"I refuse neither his sympathy nor his friendship; but I will go alone."

"Go then, my noble girl, and do not be afraid. She who descended alone the Fountain of Tears--who braved so much danger to discover the secret cavern of Schreckenstein, will be able to pass easily through the recesses of our pyramid. Go, then, as the heroes of antiquity went to seek for initiation amid sacred mysteries. Brothers, give her the cup--that precious relic a descendant of Ziska gave us, in which we consecrate the august sacrament of fraternal communion."

Leverani took from the altar a rudely carved cup of wood, and having filled it, gave it to Consuelo with a piece of bread.

"Sister," said Marcus, "not only pure and generous wine, with white bread, do we offer you to restore your power, but the body and blood of the divine man as he understood it himself; that is to say, the celestial and also earthly sign of fraternal equality. Our fathers, the martyrs of the Taborite church, fancied that the intervention of impious and sacrilegious priests were not so effective as the pure hands of a woman or a child in the consecration of the sacrament. Commune then with us here until you sit at the banquet of the temple, where the great mystery of the supper will be more explicitly revealed to you. Take this cup, and first drink of it. If, when you do so, you have faith, a few drops will be a mighty tonic to your body, and your fervent soul will support you through your trial on its wings of flame. Consuelo having first drank of the cup, returned it to Leverani, who, after tasting it, handed it around to the other brethren. Marcus having swallowed the last drops, blessed Consuelo, and requested the assembly to pray for her. He then presented the neophyte with a silver lamp, and assisted her in placing her feet on the bars of a ladder.

"I need not," said he, "tell you that no danger menaces your life; but remember that you will never reach the door of the temple if you look but once behind as you proceed. You will have several pauses to make at different places, when you must examine all that terrifies you--but do not pause long. As a door opens before you, pass it, and you will never return. This is, as you know, the rigid requirement of the old initiations. You must also, in obedience to the rules of the old rites, diligently nurse the flame of your lamp. Go, my child, and may this idea give you superhuman power, that what you now are condemned to suffer is necessary to the development of your heart and mind in virtue and true faith."

When Marcus had ceased speaking, Consuelo carefully descended the stairs. When she was at the foot, the ladder was withdrawn, and she heard the heavy stones close over the entrance above her.