the essence of Being. Their activity is all-comprehending and unerringly calculated: they rule over the world by the authority of wisdom over ignorance.

In the Fifth Act of the Second Part, we are at length, after many a hint and significant note of preparation, introduced to the privacies of this philosophical Santa Hermandad. A strange Delphic cave this of theirs, under the very pavements of Paris! There are brazen folding-doors, and concealed voices, and sphinxes, and naphtha-lamps, and all manner of wondrous furniture. It seems, moreover, to be a sort of gala evening with them; for the ‘Old Man of 'Carmel, in eremite garb, with a long beard reaching to his 'girdle,' is for a moment discovered 'reading in a deep 'monotonous voice.' The Strong Ones,' meanwhile, are out in quest of Robert d'Heredon; who, by cunning practices, has been enticed from his Hebridean solitude, in the hope of saving Molay, and is even now to be initiated, and equipped for his task. After a due allowance of pompous ceremonial, Robert is at last ushered in, or rather dragged in; for it appears that he has made a stout debate, not submitting to the customary form of being ducked, an essential preliminary, it would seem,―till compelled by the direst necessity. He is in a truly Highland anger, as is natural: but by various manipulations and solacements, he is reduced to reason again; finding, indeed, the fruitlessness of anything else; for when lance and sword and free space are given him, and he makes a thrust at Adam of Valincourt, the master of the ceremonies, it is to no purpose: the old man has a torpedo quality in him, which benumbs the stoutest arm; and no death issues from the baffled sword-point, but only a small spark of electric fire. With his Scottish prudence, Robert, under these circumstances, cannot but perceive that quietness is best. The people hand him, in succession, the 'Cup

of Strength,' the 'Cup of Beauty,' and the 'Cup of Wisdom;' liquors brewed, if we may judge from their effects, with the highest stretch of Rosicrucian art; and which must have gone far to disgust Robert d'Heredon with his natural usquebaugh, however excellent, had that fierce drink been in use then. He rages in a fine frenzy; dies away in raptures; and then, at last, 'considers what he wanted and what he wants.' Now is the time for Adam of Valincourt to strike-in with an interminable exposition of the 'objects of the society. To not unwilling but still cautious ears he unbosoms himself, in mystic wise, with extreme copiousness; turning aside objections like a veteran disputant, and leading his apt and courageous pupil, by signs and wonders, as well as by logic, deeper and deeper into the secrets of theosophic and thaumaturgic science. A little glimpse of this our readers may share with us; though we fear the allegory will seem to most of them but a hollow nut. Nevertheless, it is an allegory—of its sort; and we can profess to have translated with entire fidelity:

ADAM. Thy riddle by a second will be solved.

[He leads him to the Sphinx. Behold this Sphinx! Half-beast, half-angel, both Combined in one, it is an emblem to thee

Of th' ancient Mother, Nature, herself a riddle,
And only by a deeper to be master'd.

Eternal Clearness in th' eternal Ferment:
This is the riddle of Existence :-read it,-
Propose that other to her, and she serves thee!

[The door on the right-hand opens, and, in the space be

hind it, appears, as before, the Old Man of Carmel, sitting at a Table, and reading in a large Volume. Three deep strokes of a Bell are heard.

OLD MAN OF CARMEL [reading with a loud but still monotonous voice]. And when the Lord saw Phosphoros'

Ha! Again

ROBERT [interrupting him].

A story as of Baffometus?

ADAM.

Not so.

That tale of theirs was but some poor distortion
Of th' outmost image of our Sanctuary.-
Keep silence here; and see thou interrupt not,
By too bold cavilling, this mystery.

OLD MAN [reading].

'And when the Lord saw Phosphoros his pride, Being wroth thereat, he cast him forth,

And shut him in a prison called LIFE;

And gave him for a Garment earth and water,
And bound him straitly in four Azure Chains,
And pour'd for him the bitter Cup of Fire.

The Lord moreover spake: Because thou hast forgotten
My will, I yield thee to the Element,

And thou shalt be his slave, and have no longer
Remembrance of thy Birthplace or my Name.
And sithence thou hast sinn'd against me by
Thy prideful Thought of being One and Somewhat,
I leave with thee that Thought to be thy whip,
And this thy weakness for a Bit and Bridle ;
Till once a Saviour from the Waters rise,
Who shall again baptise thee in my bosom,
That so thou riayst be Nought and All.

'And when the Lord had spoken, he drew back
As in a mighty rushing; and the Element
Rose up round Phosphoros, and tower'd itself
Aloft to Heav'n; and he lay stunn'd beneath it.

'But when his first-born Sister saw his pain,
Her heart was full of sorrow, and she turn'd her
To the Lord; and with veil'd face, thus spake Mylitta :3
Pity my Brother, and let me console him!

'Then did the Lord in pity rend asunder A little chink in Phosphoros his dungeon, That so he might behold his Sister's face;

Mylitta in the old Persian mysteries was the name of the Moon; Mythran that of the Sun.

And when she silent peep'd into his Prison,
She left with him a Mirror for his solace;
And when he look'd therein, his earthly Garment
Pressed him less; and, like the gleam of morning,
Some faint remembrance of his Birthplace dawn'd.

'But yet the Azure Chains she could not break,
The bitter Cup of Fire not take from him.
Therefore she pray'd to Mythras, to her Father,
To save his youngest-born; and Mythras went
Up to the footstool of the Lord, and said:
Take pity on my Son!-Then said the Lord:
Have I not sent Mylitta that he may

Behold his Birthplace?-Wherefore Mythras answer'd:
What profits it? The Chains she cannot break,

The bitter Cup of Fire not take from him.

So will I, said the Lord, the Salt be given him,
That so the bitter Cup of Fire be softened;
But yet the Azure Chains must lie on him

Till once a Saviour rise from out the Waters.-
And when the Salt was laid on Phosphor's tongue,
The Fire's piercing ceased; but th' Element
Congeal'd the Salt to Ice, and Phosphoros

Lay there benumb'd, and had not power to move.
But Isis saw him, and thus spake the Mother:

'Thou who art Father, Strength and Word and Light!

Shall he my last-born grandchild lie forever

In pain, the down-pressed thrall of his rude Brother?
Then had the Lord compassion, and he sent him
The Herald of the Saviour from the Waters;
The Cup of Fluidness, and in the cup.

The drops of Sadness and the drops of Longing:
And then the Ice was thawed, the Fire grew cool,
And Phosphoros again had room to breathe.

But yet the earthy Garment cumber'd him,

The Azure Chains still gall'd, and the Remembrance

Of the Name, the Lord's, which he had lost, was wanting. 'Then the Mother's heart was mov'd with pity,

She beckoned the Son to her, and said:

VOL. VI. (Misc. vol. 1.)

K

Thou who art more than I, and yet my nursling
Put on this Robe of Earth, and show thyself
To fallen Phosphoros bound in the dungeon,
And open him that dungeon's narrow cover.
Then said the Word: It shall be so! and sent
His messenger DISEASE; she broke the roof
Of Phosphor's Prison, so that once again
The Fount of Light he saw the Element

Was dazzled blind; but Phosphor knew his Father.
And when the Word, in Earth, came to the Prison.
The Element address'd him as his like;

But Phosphoros look'd up to him, and said:

Thou art sert hither to redeem from Sin,

Yet thou art not the Saviour from the Waters.

Then spake the Word: The Saviour from the Waters

I surely am not; yet when thou hast drunk

The Cup of Fluidness, I will redeem thee.
Then Phosphor drank the Cup of Fluidness,
Of Longing, and of Sadness; and his Garment
Did drop sweet drops; wherewith the Messenger
Of the Word wash'd all his Garment, till its folds
And stiffness vanish'd, and it 'gan grow light.
And when the Prison LIFE she touch'd, straightway
It waxed thin and lucid like to crystal.

But yet the Azure Chains she could not break.-
Then did the Word vouchsafe him the Cup of Faith:
And having drunk it, Phosphoros look'd up,

And saw the Saviour standing in the Waters.

Both hands the Captive stretch'd to grasp that Saviour; But he fled.

'So Phosphoros was griev'd in heart: But yet the Word spake comfort, giving him.

The Pillow Patience, there to lay his head.

And having rested, he rais'd his head, and said:

Wilt thou redeem me from the Prison too?

Then said the Word: Wait yet in peace seven moons.
It be nine, until thy hour shall come.
And Phosphor answer'd: Lord, thy will be done

may