Carmen Ariza Part 142

"Yes," sadly. "I would have to, were I consistent; for Catholicism is the only true faith, founded upon the revealed word of G.o.d, you know."

He smiled pathetically as he looked around at the little group.

"Now," he continued, "you, Mr. Haynerd, are a man of the world. You are not in sympathy with the Church. You are an infidel, an unbeliever. And therefore are you '_anathema_,' you know." He laughed as he went on. "But you can not deny that at times you think very seriously. And, I may go farther: you long, intensely, for something that the world does not offer. Now, what is it but truth that you are seeking?"

"I want to know," answered Haynerd quickly. "I want to be shown. I am fond of exhibitions of sleight-of-hand and jugglery. But the priestly thaumaturgy that claims to transform a biscuit into the flesh of a man dead some two thousand years, and a bit of grape juice into his blood, irritates me inexpressibly! And so does the jugglery by which your Protestant fellows, Hitt, attempt to reconcile their opposite beliefs. Why, what difference can it possibly make to the Almighty whether we miserable little beings down here are baptised with water, milk, or kerosene, or whether we are immersed, sprinkled, or well soused? Good heavens! for nearly twenty centuries you have been wandering among the non-essentials. Isn't it time to get down to business, and instead of burning at the stake every one who differs with you, try conscientiously to put into practice a few of the simple moral precepts, such as the Golden Rule, and loving one's neighbor as one's self?"

"There," commented Father Waite, "you have a bit of the world's opinion of the Church! Can we say that the censure is not just? Would not Christ himself to-day speak even more scathingly to those who advocate a system of belief that puts blinders on men's minds, and then leads them into the pit of ignorance and superst.i.tion?"

"Ye have taken away the key of knowledge," murmured Carmen; "ye entered not in yourselves, and them that were entering in ye hindered."

"Just so!" exclaimed Haynerd, looking at the girl who stood as a living protest against all that hampers the expansion of the human mind; that quenches its note of joy, and dulls its enlarging and ever n.o.bler concept of G.o.d. "Now I want to know, first, if there is a G.o.d; and, if so, what He is, and what His relation is to me. I want to know what I am, and why I am here, and what future I may look forward to, if any. I don't care two raps about a G.o.d who can't help me here on earth, who can't set me right and make me happy--cure my ills, meet my needs, and supply a few of the luxuries as well. And if there is a G.o.d, and we can meet Him only by dying, then why in the name of common sense all this hullabaloo about death? Why, in that case, death is the grandest thing in life! And I'm for committing suicide right away! But you preacher fellows fight death tooth and nail. You're scared stiff when you contemplate it. You make Christianity just a grand preparation for death. Yet it isn't the gateway to life to you, and you know it! Then why, if you are honest, do you tell such rubbish to your trusting followers?"

"I would remind you," returned Hitt with a little laugh, "that I don't, now."

"Well, friends," interposed Father Waite, "it is to take up for earnest consideration just such questions as Mr. Haynerd propounds, that I have my suggestion to make, namely, that we meet together once or twice a week, or as often as we may agree upon, to search for--"

his voice dropped to a whisper--"to search for G.o.d, and with this young girl as our guide. For I believe she is very close to Him. The world knows G.o.d only by hearsay. Carmen has _proved_ Him.

"Men ask why it is," he went on, "that G.o.d remains hidden from them; why they can not understand Him. They forget that Jesus revealed G.o.d as Love. And, if that is so, in order to know Him all mankind must love their fellow-men. But they go right on hating one another, cheating, abusing, robbing, slaying, persecuting, and still wondering why they don't know G.o.d, regardless of the only possible way of ever working out from the evils by which they are beset, if we believe that Jesus told the truth, or was correctly reported." He paused and reflected for a moment. Then:

"The ancient prophet said: 'Ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your hearts.' It is my proposal that we bind ourselves together in such a search. To it we can bring diverse talents. To our vast combined worldly experience, I bring knowledge of the ancient Greek and Latin Fathers, together with Church history. Mr.

Hitt brings his command of the Hebrew language and history, and an intimate acquaintance with the ancient ma.n.u.scripts, and Biblical interpretation, together with a wide knowledge of the physical sciences. Madam Beaubien, Miss Wall, and Mr. Haynerd contribute their earnest, searching, inquisitive spirit, and a knowledge of the world's needs. Moreover, we all come together without bias or prejudice. And Carmen--she contributes that in which we have all been so woefully lacking, and without which we can _never_ know G.o.d, the rarest, deepest spirituality. She is a living proof of her faith. Shall we undertake the search, my friends? It means a study of her thought, and the basis upon which it rests."

The Beaubien raised her hand to her moist eyes. She was thinking of that worldly coterie which formerly was wont to meet nightly in her magnificent mansion to prey upon their fellows. Oh, how different the spirit of this little gathering!

"You will meet here, with me," she said in a broken voice. "I ask it."

There were none there unacquainted with the sorrows of this penitent, broken woman. Each rose in turn and clasped her hand. Carmen threw her arms about her neck and kissed her repeatedly.

"You see," said the Beaubien, smiling up through her tears, "what this child's religion is? Would the swinging of incense burners and the mumbling of priestly formulae enhance it?"

"Jesus said, 'Having seen me ye have seen G.o.d,'" said Father Waite.

"And I say," replied the Beaubien, "that having seen this child, you have indeed seen Him."

CHAPTER 2

"I'm afraid," Haynerd was saying, as he and Father Waite were wending their way to the Beaubien home a few evenings later, "that this Carmen is the kind of girl you read about in sentimental novels; the kind who are always just ready to step into heaven, but who count for little in the warfare and struggle of actual mundane existence. You get me? She isn't quite true to life, you know, as a book critic would say of an impossible heroine."

"You mistake, my friend," replied Father Waite warmly. "She is the very kind we would see oftener, were it not for the belief that years bring wisdom, and so, as a consequence, the little child is crushed beneath a load of false beliefs and human laws that make it reflect its mortal parents, rather than its heavenly one."

"But I'd like to see her under stress--"

"Under stress! Good heavens, man! You haven't the slightest conception of the stress she's been under most of her life! But your criticism unconsciously pays her the highest tribute, for her kind never show by word, deed, or look what they are enduring. That frail-appearing girl has stood up under loads that would have flattened you and me out like gold leaf!"

"Well, she doesn't look it!" protested Haynerd tenaciously.

"Of course she doesn't! Her kind never do! She's so far and away ahead of mortals like you and me that she doesn't admit the reality and power of evil--and, believe me, she's got her reasons for not admitting it, too! Don't presume to judge her yet. Only try humbly to attain a little of her understanding and faith; and try to avoid making yourself ridiculous by criticising what you do not comprehend.

That, indeed, has been mankind's age-long blunder--and they have thereby made a.s.ses of themselves!"

Edward Haynerd, or "Ned," as he was invariably known, prided himself on being something of a philosopher. And in the name of philosophy he chose to be quixotic. That one who hated the dissimulations and shams of our cla.s.s aristocracy so cordially should have earned his livelihood--and a good one, too--as publisher of the Social Era, a sprightly weekly chronicle of happenings in fas.h.i.+onable society, would have appeared anomalous in any but a man gifted in the Greek sophistries and their modern innumerable and arid offshoots. Haynerd was a laughing Democritus, an easy-going, even-tempered fellow, doomed to be loved, and by the same graces thoroughly cheated by the world in general. He had in his rapid career of some thirty-five years dipped deeply into things mundane, and had come to the surface, sputtering and blowing, with his face well smeared with mud from the shallow depths. Whereupon he remarked that such an existence was a poor way of serving the Lord, and turned cynic. His wit was his saving grace. It was likewise his capital and stock-in-trade. By it he won a place for himself in the newspaper world, and later, as a credit a.s.set, had employed it successfully in negotiating for the Social Era. It taking over the publication of this sheet he had remarked that life was altogether too short to permit of attempting anything worth while; and so he forthwith made no further a.s.saults upon fame--a.s.suming that he had ever done so--but settled comfortably down to the enjoyment of his sinecure. He had never married. And as justification for his self-imposed celibacy he pompously quoted Kant: "I am a bachelor, and I could not cease to be a bachelor without a disturbance that would be intolerable to me." Yet he was not a misogynist. He simply s.h.i.+rked responsibility and ease-threatening risk.

"You see," he remarked, explaining himself later to Carmen, "I'm a pseudo-litterateur--I conduct a 'Who's It?' for the quidnunces of this blase old burg. And I really meet a need by furnis.h.i.+ng an easy method of suicide, for my little vanity sheet is a sort of social mirror, that all who look therein may die of laughter. By the way, I had to run those base squibs about you; but, by George! I'm going to make a retraction in next Sat.u.r.day's issue. I'll put a crimp in friend Ames that'll make him squeal. I'll say he has ten wives, and eight of 'em Zulus, at that!"

"Don't, please!" laughed Carmen. "We have enough to meet, without going out of our way to stir up more. Let it all work out now, as it will, in the right way."

"In the right way, eh? Is that part of your doctrine? Say, don't you think that in formulating a new religion you're carrying coals to Newcastle? Seems to me we've got enough now, if we'd practice 'em."

"My religion, Mr. Haynerd, is only the practice of the teachings of a Nazarene Jew, named Jesus," she replied gently.

"Well, my religion is Socialism, I guess," he said lightly.

"So's mine," she quickly returned. "I'm a thorough Socialist. So we meet on common ground, don't we?" She held out her hand, and he took it, a puzzled expression coming into his face.

"Well," he said, glancing about, "we'll have to dispute that later. I see Father Waite is about to open this little religious seminar. But we'll get back to the discussion of myself," he added, his eyes twinkling. "For, like Th.o.r.eau, I prefer to discuss that subject, because there's no other about which I know so much."

"Nor so little," she added, laughing and squeezing his hand as she turned from him.

The little coterie took their places around the dining room table, which was well strewn with books of reference and writing materials.

Father Waite rapped gently for order. A deep, reverent silence fell upon the group. They had begun their search for G.o.d.

"Friends," began Father Waite slowly, "we are inaugurating to-night a mission of the most profound significance. No question so vitally touches the human race as the one which we shall reverently discuss in this and subsequent meetings. I thought as I came in here to-night of the wisdom of Epict.i.tus, who said, 'What do I want? To acquaint myself with the true order of things and comply with it.' I am sure no statement so fully expresses our common desire as that."

"Just so!" interrupted Haynerd. "If Adam was a Baptist, I want to know and comply with the fact."

A general laugh followed. Then Father Waite held up a hand and again became serious.

"Can we treat lightly even the Adam story, when we consider how much misery and rancor its literal acceptance has caused among mankind? No.

Out of deepest sympathy for a world in search of truth, let us pity their stumblings, and take heed that we fall not ourselves."

He paused. A hush lay upon the room. Carmen's hand stole toward the Beaubien's and clasped it tightly.

"In these days, as of old, it is still said, 'There is no G.o.d!' And yet, though the ignorant and wilful admit it not, mankind's very existence is a function of their concept of a Creator, a sole cause of all that is. No question, economic, social, political, or other, is so vitally related to humanity as this: 'Is there a G.o.d?'

And the corollary: 'What is His relation to me?' For there can be nothing so important as a knowledge of truth. Can the existence of a G.o.d be demonstrated? Can He be shown to be beneficent, in view of the world's testimony? What is our source of truth? If the Bible, then can its authenticity be established? The greatest of our so-called civilizations are known as Christian. But who can say by them what Christianity really is?"

"I am quite prepared to say what it is not!" again interrupted Haynerd.

"Doubtless," resumed Father Waite. "And so are we all. But at present we are seeking constructive criticism, not solely destructive. There has been quite enough of that sort in the world. But, to go a step further, can we say positively that the truth is to be found even in Christianity?"

"Please explain your question," said Miss Wall, with a puzzled look.

"The first essential is always facts," he continued. "The deduction of right conclusions will follow--provided, as Matthew Arnold so tersely said, we have sufficient delicacy of perception, subtlety, wisdom, and tact. And, I may add, sufficient freedom from prejudice and mental bias--ah, there is the stumbling block!"

"Matthew Arnold," ventured Haynerd, "was dubbed a first-cla.s.s infidel, as I recall it."