IN EARTH AND SKIE AND SEA
STRANGE THYNGS THER BE
Doggerel couplet from the
Sherd of Amenartas
I inscribe this history to
ANDREW LANG
in token of personal regard
and of
my sincere admiration for his learning and his works
PREPARER'S NOTE
This text was prepared from an 1888 edition published by Longmans,
Green, and Co., London. A number of fragments of Greek text, and
sketches, have been omitted due to the difficulty of representing
them as plain text. However, small fragments of Greek have been
transcribed in brackets "{}" using an Oxford English Dictionary
alphabet table, without diacritical marks.
SHE
INTRODUCTION
In giving to the world the record of what, looked at as an adventure
only, is I suppose one of the most wonderful and mysterious
experiences ever undergone by mortal men, I feel it incumbent on me to
explain what my exact connection with it is. And so I may as well say
at once that I am not the narrator but only the editor of this
extraordinary history, and then go on to tell how it found its way
into my hands.
Some years ago I, the editor, was stopping with a friend, "/vir
doctissimus et amicus neus/," at a certain University, which for the
purposes of this history we will call Cambridge, and was one day much
struck with the appearance of two persons whom I saw going arm-in-arm
down the street. One of these gentlemen was I think, without
exception, the handsomest young fellow I have ever seen. He was very
tall, very broad, and had a look of power and a grace of bearing that
seemed as native to him as it is to a wild stag. In addition his face
was almost without flaw--a good face as well as a beautiful one, and
when he lifted his hat, which he did just then to a passing lady, I
saw that his head was covered with little golden curls growing close
to the scalp.
"Good gracious!" I said to my friend, with whom I was walking, "why,
that fellow looks like a statue of Apollo come to life. What a
splendid man he is!"
"Yes," he answered, "he is the handsomest man in the University, and
one of the nicest too. They call him 'the Greek god'; but look at the
other one, he's Vincey's (that's the god's name) guardian, and
supposed to be full of every kind of information. They call him
'Charon.'" I looked, and found the older man quite as interesting in
his way as the glorified specimen of humanity at his side. He appeared
to be about forty years of age, and was I think as ugly as his
companion was handsome. To begin with, he was shortish, rather bow-
legged, very deep chested, and with unusually long arms. He had dark
hair and small eyes, and the hair grew right down on his forehead, and
his whiskers grew right up to his hair, so that there was uncommonly
little of his countenance to be seen. Altogether he reminded me
forcibly of a gorilla, and yet there was something very pleasing and
genial about the man's eye. I remember saying that I should like to
know him.
"All right," answered my friend, "nothing easier. I know Vincey; I'll
introduce you," and he did, and for some minutes we stood chatting--
about the Zulu people, I think, for I had just returned from the Cape
at the time. Presently, however, a stoutish lady, whose name I do not
remember, came along the pavement, accompanied by a pretty fair-haired
girl, and these two Mr. Vincey, who clearly knew them well, at once
joined, walking off in their company. I remember being rather amused
because of the change in the expression of the elder man, whose name I
discovered was Holly, when he saw the ladies advancing. He suddenly
stopped short in his talk, cast a reproachful look at his companion,
and, with an abrupt nod to myself, turned and marched off alone across
the street. I heard afterwards that he was popularly supposed to be as
much afraid of a woman as most people are of a mad dog, which
accounted for his precipitate retreat. I cannot say, however, that
young Vincey showed much aversion to feminine society on this
occasion. Indeed I remember laughing, and remarking to my friend at
the time that he was not the sort of man whom it would be desirable to
introduce to the lady one was going to marry, since it was exceedingly
probable that the acquaintance would end in a transfer of her
affections. He was altogether too good-looking, and, what is more, he
had none of that consciousness and conceit about him which usually
afflicts handsome men, and makes them deservedly disliked by their
fellows.
That same evening my visit came to an end, and this was the last I saw
or heard of "Charon" and "the Greek god" for many a long day. Indeed,
I have never seen either of them from that hour to this, and do not
think it probable that I shall. But a month ago I received a letter
and two packets, one of manuscript, and on opening the first found
that it was signed by "Horace Holly," a name that at the moment was
not familiar to me. It ran as follows:--
"---- College, Cambridge, May 1, 18--
"My dear Sir,--You will be surprised, considering the very slight
nature of our acquaintance, to get a letter from me. Indeed, I
think I had better begin by reminding you that we once met, now
some five years ago, when I and my ward Leo Vincey were introduced
to you in the street at Cambridge. To be brief and come to my
business. I have recently read with much interest a book of yours
describing a Central African adventure. I take it that this book
is partly true, and partly an effort of the imagination. However
this may be, it has given me an idea. It happens, how you will see
in the accompanying manuscript (which together with the Scarab,
the 'Royal Son of the Sun,' and the original sherd, I am sending
to you by hand), that my ward, or rather my adopted son Leo Vincey
and myself have recently passed through a real African adventure,
of a nature so much more marvellous than the one which you
describe, that to tell the truth I am almost ashamed to submit it
to you lest you should disbelieve my tale. You will see it stated
in this manuscript that I, or rather we, had made up our minds not
to make this history public during our joint lives. Nor should we
alter our determination were it not for a circumstance which has
recently arisen. We are for reasons that, after perusing this
manuscript, you may be able to guess, going away again this time
to Central Asia where, if anywhere upon this earth, wisdom is to
be found, and we anticipate that our sojourn there will be a long
one. Possibly we shall not return. Under these altered conditions
it has become a question whether we are justified in withholding
from the world an account of a phenomenon which we believe to be
of unparalleled interest, merely because our private life is
involved, or because we are afraid of ridicule and doubt being
cast upon our statements. I hold one view about this matter, and
Leo holds another, and finally, after much discussion, we have
come to a compromise, namely, to send the history to you, giving
you full leave to publish it if you think fit, the only
stipulation being that you shall disguise our real names, and as
much concerning our personal identity as is consistent with the
maintenance of the /bona fides/ of the narrative.
"And now what am I to say further? I really do not know beyond once
more repeating that everything is described in the accompanying
manuscript exactly as it happened. As regards /She/ herself I have
nothing to add. Day by day we gave greater occasion to regret that
we did not better avail ourselves of our opportunities to obtain
more information from that marvellous woman. Who was she? How did
she first come to the Caves of Kôr, and what was her real
religion? We never ascertained, and now, alas! we never shall, at
least not yet. These and many other questions arise in my mind,
but what is the good of asking them now?
"Will you undertake the task? We give you complete freedom, and as
a reward you will, we believe, have the credit of presenting to
the world the most wonderful history, as distinguished from
romance, that its records can show. Read the manuscript (which I
have copied out fairly for your benefit), and let me know.
"Believe me, very truly yours,
"L. Horace Holly.[*]
"P.S.--Of course, if any profit results from the sale of the
writing should you care to undertake its publication, you can do
what you like with it, but if there is a loss I will leave
instructions with my lawyers, Messrs. Geoffrey and Jordan, to
meet it. We entrust the sherd, the scarab, and the parchments to
your keeping, till such time as we demand them back again.
--L. H. H."
[*] This name is varied throughout in accordance with the writer's
request.--Editor.
This letter, as may be imagined, astonished me considerably, but when
I came to look at the MS., which the pressure of other work prevented
me from doing for a fortnight, I was still more astonished, as I think
the reader will be also, and at once made up my mind to press on with
the matter. I wrote to this effect to Mr. Holly, but a week afterwards
received a letter from that gentleman's lawyers, returning my own,
with the information that their client and Mr. Leo Vincey had already
left this country for Thibet, and they did not at present know their
address.
Well, that is all I have to say. Of the history itself the reader must
judge. I give it him, with the exception of a very few alterations,
made with the object of concealing the identity of the actors from the
general public, exactly as it came to me. Personally I have made up my
mind to refrain from comments. At first I was inclined to believe that
this history of a woman on whom, clothed in the majesty of her almost
endless years, the shadow of Eternity itself lay like the dark wing of
Night, was some gigantic allegory of which I could not catch the
meaning. Then I thought that it might be a bold attempt to portray the
possible results of practical immortality, informing the substance of
a mortal who yet drew her strength from Earth, and in whose human
bosom passions yet rose and fell and beat as in the undying world
around her the winds and the tides rise and fall and beat unceasingly.
But as I went on I abandoned that idea also. To me the story seems to
bear the stamp of truth upon its face. Its explanation I must leave to
others, and with this slight preface, which circumstances make
necessary, I introduce the world to Ayesha and the Caves of Kôr.--The
Editor.
P.S.--There is on consideration one circumstance that, after a
reperusal of this history, struck me with so much force that I cannot
resist calling the attention of the reader to it. He will observe that
so far as we are made acquainted with him there appears to be nothing
in the character of Leo Vincey which in the opinion of most people
would have been likely to attract an intellect so powerful as that of
Ayesha. He is not even, at any rate to my view, particularly
interesting. Indeed, one might imagine that Mr. Holly would under
ordinary circumstances have easily outstripped him in the favour of
/She/. Can it be that extremes meet, and that the very excess and
splendour of her mind led her by means of some strange physical
reaction to worship at the shrine of matter? Was that ancient
Kallikrates nothing but a splendid animal loved for his hereditary
Greek beauty? Or is the true explanation what I believe it to be--
namely, that Ayesha, seeing further than we can see, perceived the
germ and smouldering spark of greatness which lay hid within her
lover's soul, and well knew that under the influence of her gift of
life, watered by her wisdom, and shone upon with the sunshine of her
presence, it would bloom like a flower and flash out like a star,
filling the world with light and fragrance?
Here also I am not able to answer, but must leave the reader to form
his own judgment on the facts before him, as detailed by Mr. Holly in
the following pages.
