Born Again - Alfred William Lawson (fantasy books to read txt) 📗

"I was not aware that you heard it at all," replied she. "Yes," responded I, "when first coming into this room, the men in the picture appeared to me to be alive, and wishing to attract their attention I touched the shoulder of the leader, and then it was that I thought I heard the sweetest and grandest music it has ever been my good fortune to listen to."

"In that case," said Arletta, "your ears did not deceive you, for you certainly heard real music. You see in this picture, an exact portrayal of that which existed over four thousand years ago. This delineation is an almost perfect representation of one of our national bands as they once appeared in life ready to play. The music, of course, is reproduced mechanically, the mechanism being concealed from view behind the scenery. When you placed your hand upon the shoulder of the leader you unconsciously pressed the spring which set the machinery in motion, causing a reproduction of the same strains once rendered by these men."

"But this being a painting, I cannot understand how the figures moved as if playing upon their instruments," said I.

"They did not move at all," answered Arletta, "it was your soul that brought to your senses the movements that once took place among these men in real life. Music is inspired by the soul, and likewise has a direct influence upon it. No Sageman was considered an eminent composer if his work lacked the force to convey the soul of the listener to the actual scene from whence the inspiration was derived. No doubt your inferior brain was incapable of grasping the magnificent conception of the author, but the selection being so enrapturous your soul awakened and brought your senses to the point where you could see the movements of the musicians. Perhaps the next rendition may have a stronger effect upon your soul which will cause you to get an outline of what was intended by the composer. The composition which the orchestra will now reproduce for your benefit was considered by our people to be the musical masterpiece of all time. It was named 'The Soul's Retrospection,' and was composed by the leader of this band only a few years prior to the great catastrophe. Look," said Arletta, with much feeling as she waved her hand toward the exalted director, "take a good look at this model of a perfect man and you may be able to realize just what qualities he had to possess before acquiring the tremendous intellectual strength necessary to produce the wonderful work that will shortly be impressed upon you. Note the extraordinary look of kindness, gentleness and self-denial that is stamped upon his handsome features. See the expression of thankfulness and intense reverence he maintained for the many splendid gifts nature bestows upon all mankind capable of accepting them. Observe the optimistic appearance of one that believed the earth was real heaven and who strived to make it so. Notice the cast of superior intellectuality caused by devoting his time and mentality to natural thoughts, instead of allowing absurd civilized theories to take root in his expansive brain. Behold the magnificent physique, the result of the constant care and attention he gave to the machinery nature provided him with. Ah, me! such a noble being, and to think that there is not another piece of flesh and blood on earth at the present time to compare with him seems cruel."

At this point Arletta appeared almost overcome with sadness and emotion as she buried herself in contemplation of a glorious past and an unknown future. Great tears rolled from her beautiful eyes, and unconsciously from my own as well. How utterly helpless I felt at that moment. I knew of no way to cheer her, although I would have gladly given up my life to do so. Aye, more than that, my love for her was so strong that in order to make her happy, I should have welcomed back to life again, if such a thing were possible, any one of those handsome fellows in the picture. However, by a superb display of will power, she quickly regained control of herself, and becoming cheerful once more, bade me recline upon one of the lounges while she pressed the spring which set the musical apparatus in motion.

And as I followed her directions, there suddenly burst forth the voluminous and harmonious sound of a hundred strange instruments, causing an indescribable thrill of ecstasy to take possession of my senses, until it seemed that there was nothing left of me but an invisible spirit. And then, even the music apparently stopped, and a peculiar feeling overcame me as if my soul had actually left its charge and was flying about in an effort to find a convenient resting place. Suddenly, as if half awake and half dreaming, I found myself within a luxuriously furnished hall, surrounded by a score of richly-clad beings, who were bowing, kneeling, and cutting up all sorts of silly antics about me. In a dreamy sort of a way, I looked down at myself and discovered that I was arrayed in the gorgeous garments of a king, and weighted down with dazzling jewels from head to foot. Then everything became clear enough to my memory; I was the king, and these idiotic creatures fawning and cringing about me were my obedient subjects; my slaves; the willing tools which kept me in power. A gouty feeling in my feet, a dyspeptic ache of the stomach and an alcoholic pain in the head, caused me to be in a very disagreeable mood, and I felt like kicking the entire gathering out of my presence.

"Sire," squeaked a knock-kneed, sickly looking civilized creature about five feet high, who wore knee breeches, silk stockings and fancy ribbons, as he bowed low in addressing me, "those ungrateful subjects of your majesty, the ignorant common laboring horde whom God in His infinite wisdom has entrusted to your noble guidance, have become dissatisfied and turbulent again, and are disturbing the peaceful prosperity of the domain by clamoring for bread--more bread and less toil is their beastly cry. A delegation of their representatives requested me to beg your majesty to grant them an audience that they might state their imaginary grievances to you in person."

"More bread and less toil," shouted I furiously, "the audacity of the vermin! By the gods! I shall teach those craven beggars that I am the master and will tolerate no new-fangled ideas. Give orders to the generalissimo to have this delegation beheaded at once and to put to the sword every dissatisfied laborer in the land." As I uttered those words, intermingled with terrible oaths, and with intense hatred for the wretches who dared to complain against such conditions a sudden change affected me and I found myself within a dark, filthy little room, seated at a bare table, with a feeling of hunger gnawing at my stomach. My limbs felt tired and sore from a hard day's toil. Beside me sat a thin, haggard, sorrowful woman and several half-famished children piteously crying for something to eat. Oh, what a dismal, melancholy feeling. "What is it," mused I, observing my bony hands, crooked limbs and ragged clothes, "that causes my inability to earn enough money to supply bread for myself and family, after working fifteen hours a day, while thousands of men in this land do not work at all and have luxuries to waste? What unnatural law governs the world that starves myself and family who work, and over-feeds the pet dog of the aristocrat, who loafs? The Church teaches me that God rules the universe, and that in order to please Him I must be contented with my lot. Can I believe this unreasonable doctrine of the Church? Can I give thanks to such a god?"

Another change, and behold, I am clad in the garments of a hunter, seated upon the back of a spirited horse and in mad pursuit of a fleet- footed antelope. I raise my rifle and blaze away at the frightened beast. There, I have hit the mark and brought him down at the first shot, much to my delight. But lo, it is not dead yet; see how it pants and struggles in desperation, as it tries to regain its feet. Now I am right upon it, and quickly dismounting, I take hold of its horns, draw a long keen knife from its sheath, and with a powerful stroke I almost sever the victim's head from the body. And as the warm blood pours forth in every direction and the last sign of life departs from its shivering body, I view the work of destruction with the fiendish glee of a noble sportsman.

But hold! What causes me to tremble with fear as though some blood- thirsty monster were pursuing me with the intention of crushing out my life's blood? Ah, I understand. I am the four-footed beast and am running, running, running as fast as my weary limbs will carry me. And such a terrified feeling overcomes me as I look backward and discover I am pursued by the most dangerous, savage and cruel animal in existence-- man. How relentlessly he dogs my footsteps. On, on, on he comes until he is right behind me and there is no chance to escape--nor any hope for quarter. At last being brought to bay I turn about and decide to give battle to my pursuer. But look! The cowardly savage will not fight after all. No, he will not advance and fight fair, but at a distance and out of harm's way, he stops, and pointing a weapon at me, takes deliberate aim, there is a loud report, a quick flash, and the scene once more changes.

And thus I transmigrated from one thing into another, in a seemingly endless procession of lives, experiencing all the peculiar sensations of the many bodies I temporarily inhabited. In some cases I was the big strong brute--either physically or mentally--taking advantage of the puny weakling. In others, I was the miserable weakling, being crushed by the over-powering strength of the bully. But whether strong or weak, either physically or mentally, I was always the moral coward and selfish creature, ready to cater to those who were stronger, and take advantage of those who were feebler than myself, until finally I emerged into a most extraordinary being, utterly deficient in all human weaknesses.

Master of a physique absolutely free from all imperfections, and controlling a mind powerful enough to grasp nature's beautiful ideas unadulterated, I found myself seated upon a platform in the center of a mammoth theatre and surrounded by the finest body of musicians the earth has ever produced--the immortal Sixth National Band of Sageland. Then I fully realized that as leader of this wonderful group I was about to render for the first time, my latest musical conception and masterpiece--"The Soul's Retrospection"--which would prove to humanity beyond a doubt, the positive truth of one of nature's grandest secrets--the indestructibility of the soul.

It was generally believed that music was the direct inspiration of the soul. It was also thought that the soul was one of the unchangeable forces of nature whose duty it was to operate and purify different pieces of natural machinery known as animal lives; starting each on its brief career and remaining a part thereof until the mechanism exhausted its power and collapsed, after which it attached itself to another bit of animal matter, remaining therewith until its death, and so on indefinitely.

And now, after a life of unswerving devotion to this purpose, I was about to establish the truth of these theories by producing a musical composition that would cause the listener's soul to leave the body, and going backward, revisit, as in a dream, the various animal forms it had previously inhabited. How extremely happy I felt to