Delphi collected works o.., p.933
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli, page 933
part #22 of Delphi Series Series
Six! — Seven! — Eight! The gale rampaged violently outside and shrieked like a drunken fury, battering at the casements as though meaning to break them in. Nine! — Ten! — Eleven! — and lo! — the Goblin all at once pounced down from the height to which it had ascended, and laid its detestable claw on the shuddering McNason’s shirt-front! Twelve! With a wild whistling yell, the storm burst open the long latticed windows at last, throwing them back with a savage BANG! — blowing aside the splendid damask curtains as though they were rags, and admitting a gust of bitter cold sleet and snow, while clear on the rushing blast came the sound of bells! Ding — dong! — ding! — dong! Do re mi — FA! — Sol la — si — DO! The rhythmic beat and liquid warble of rich tones melted into the wind and rain like a kind familiar voice arguing with angry children, — but Josiah McNason, half dead with fear at the sight of the hairy claw on his shirt front and the knowledge that the red moon-like Paunch of the Goblin was almost touching his own shrunken one, heard nothing save the howling of the furious gale, and wondered how long this inexplicable torture of his body and brain would last!
“Christmas Day!” cried the Goblin, “It’s Christmas Day, McNason! Hark to the bells! How they swing! How they ring! Come to church, McNason! It’s time! Come along!” And the round eyes glowed like balls of flame—” Come to Church! Come and sing ‘While Shepherds!’ You’re a Churchwarden, you know! Come along — come!”
“Not now — not now!” gasped the terrified Josiah, seeing that the Goblin was spreading out its long lean arms as though to envelop him in its embrace—” It’s not time! — it’s the middle of the night!—”
“No, no! — it’s Christmas Day!” reiterated the Goblin; “Come to Church, McNason! Come and hear my friend the Reverend Mr. Firebrand hold forth on the vanity of riches! Come in the spirit of One Timothy Two! That’s a text! ‘Grace, mercy, peace!’ Come along, McNason! All are welcome where we are going! Hark! How the bells ring! One Timothy Two! One Timothy Two! Come and ‘sit under’ good Mr. Firebrand! Come! — come!”
And with a terrible downward clutch, the Goblin caught hold of McNason by the coat-collar.
“Mercy — mercy!” cried the wretched man—” Help! — Help!”
“Help! — help!” shouted the Goblin, derisively—” One Timothy Two! Come along, McNason! Come along!”
Catching up Josiah as easily as though he were a wooden mannikin, the Goblin unfurled a pair of bat-like wings and rose aloft in air.
“Here we go!” it yelled—” Up we go, and down we go! OS to Church! ME and the Churchwarden! Oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo!
Christmas Day and Christmas Bells, and a jolly Christmas altogether! One Timothy Two! Off we go!”
And with the rush and roar of the wind, the Goblin carrying the world-renowned millionaire as a bird of prey might carry a rabbit or a weasel, soared out on a wave of mingled sleet and snow into the stormy night!
* * * * *
What happened to him in that wild supernatural scurry through the air Josiah McNason never knew. He lived and was conscious, — conscious of being borne along at a furious rate not knowing whither, — conscious of the freezing cold, — the rain, the wind, that tossed him and his unearthly companion about like dead leaves on its angry breath with a “Hoo-roo!” louder than the cry peculiar to the Goblin itself, — conscious above all of the bells! O the Bells! How they trilled and trolled out their Christmas melody! — how they seemed to tumble one over the other in their haste to proclaim “Peace and Goodwill!” — how their metal throats palpitated and throbbed with the angelic message! — angelic still, — angelic always! — even though some mortals nowadays are so miserably-minded as to doubt its truth and sweetness! The Bells rang everywhere! — loudly to the scudding clouds, — softly to the darkened earth, — whisperingly among the chill showers of sleet and snow, and with an echoing clang like musical thunder above and around the shadowy drifting form of the Goblin as it flew along, gripping the quivering Josiah as a cat might grip a mouse, or an eagle a new-born lamb. All at once the rattle and rush of the warring elements rolled off in a pause of quietude, letting the Bells have it all their own way, — and — suddenly descending with lightning-like rapidity by sheer force of the Goblin’s imperative downward pressure, Josiah found himself standing on his feet in the middle of a vast building which looked like a Church, though there was no sacred emblem of religion to be seen anywhere in it save the Pulpit. The Pulpit stood out with singular obtrusiveness, for it was green, — a livid, wicked green like the glare of a serpent’s eye. Panels of white appeared to be inserted round it, but these could not be plainly discerned, at once. The green hue was its chief note of attraction, and McNason’s eyes fastened themselves upon this with a pertinacity surely inspired by some other influence than his own. Breathless, shivering and exhausted as he was, there was something about that Green Pulpit which, wholly against his will, compelled his attention, — and as he looked, he heard a sudden confused murmur of voices which, beginning softly at first, grew louder and louder till it rose into a perfect pandemonium of howling! The unhappy millionaire trembled. What new and nameless horror was there yet in store for him? Involuntarily he turned to look for the Goblin, — even that uncanny Presence seemed kinder and more friendly than such a dreadful uproar of unknown tongues! And he was actually glad to see it still standing beside him, its round eyes sparkling with a strange light of mingled mirth and malice.
“Well, McNason, how do you feel after your air-ship voyage?” it inquired—” A bit air-sick?”
Here the howling voices grew fiercer and more shrill, — and yet the alarmed Josiah could see nothing. He felt desperately inclined to take hold of the Goblin’s claw for protection.
“What — what’s that?” he stammered.
“Only Church!” replied the Goblin—” Firebrand is a strong preacher! He ‘draws’ like a magnet — or a dentist. There’s always a crowded congregation to hear him.”
Church! — a strong preacher! — a crowded congregation! McNason stared and stared, seeing nothing but the Green Pulpit and empty space, till all at once the Goblin took off its conical cap and with the tasselled point of that headgear touched his eyes. Then — then — oh, then! But who can describe that “then”! Who in mere words can picture the amazing scene disclosed of which he, Josiah McNason, was a part, and to which he seemed to be the only human witness! All round him, in front of him and behind him were Goblins, — Goblins big, Goblins little, Goblins fat, Goblins lean, Goblins straight, Goblins crooked — Goblins of every imaginable size and shape — Goblins of every possible distortion or monstrosity that ever appeared on the pages of a child’s fairy book, were here in their scores, and all attired in the queerest motley. Some wore women’s enormous hats trimmed with fantastic bows of ribbon and big waggling plumes, — others had coloured caps like those which are put into very cheap Christmas crackers, — some were decked out with flashy tiaras and crowns that looked as if they were cut out of tin-foil, — others again had their strange sticky hair dressed as high as surely an hair, sticky or otherwise, could go, and surmounted with fantastic wreaths and garlands of bright coloured flowers apparently made of paper, under which they minced and grinned like female gymnasts at a rough country fair, — and all of them were jostling pushing, squeezing, and crowding together, each one taking a seemingly mischievous delight in trying to elbow its neighbour out of place. It was a fearsome sight! — and still more fearsome did it become when a great ball of fire suddenly bounced down from Nowhere and burst with a loud report at the foot of the Green Pulpit, where, spreading out a peacock’s tail of vivid flame, it lit up the wicked livid colour of that edifice with blinding brilliancy. Josiah McNason’s soul froze within him. He was dead, he thought! — he must be dead!
In a swooning access of speechless terror he clung to the Goblin, and was in a vague way comforted when it tucked its hairy arm through his and leered at him quite amicably.
“Don’t be nervous, McNason!” it said, It s all right! Firebrand always likes the electricity turned on when he preaches! He s the star actor of the piece, you see, the light must show him up more than anyone else. There he is!”
Josiah gazed at the Green Pulpit in quaking awe and aversion as a black figure suddenly sprang up in it like a jack-in-the-box, a tall, lanky, clothes-prop sort of shape, with a head like a large mop, from which the hair, of a fiery red, hung down in disordered tangles. This Goblins best feature consisted in its attire, which was of a double-dyed inkiness, with a wonderfully smooth and silky ‘shine’ upon it, suggestive of black-lead. It was an unfortunate costume, however, so far as concerned its becomingness to the face of its wearer, — a face white as a bleached bone, with prominent eyes which appeared to goggle out of their cavernous sockets like pebbles rolling each on the edge of a hole, — and the sable clothing of the creature only intensified the awful pallor of its countenance, and brought out its worst points into the strongest possible relief. McNason had barely time to notice these details, which seemed to be insistently forced upon his attention, when his ears were again assailed by renewed howling and screeching, accompanied by a tremendous sound of drums, as if all the drummers that were ever born were drumming their way through the world. Every Goblin had a protuberant paunch, — and as “the Reverend Mr. Firebrand” arose in the pulpit they all started together beating a prolonged tattoo upon these appendages to their otherwise skeleton forms. And ever over the frightful noise rang the Bells! — always the Bells! — the Bells of Christmas, — the Bells of peace and goodwill! Do, re, mi, FA! — Sol, la, si — DO! Ding-dong! ding-dong! Swinging and swaying, the echoes rose and fell — and in the midst of the pulsating chimes, the Goblins burst into a chorus of wild shouting —
“Firebrand! — Ha ha!”
“Good old Firebrand!”
“Order, order! Silence for Firebrand!”
“Ha-ha, HA! Ha-HA!”
“Firebrand! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!”
And then — as though they had been all clashed together by one stroke into silence — the Bells ceased. The shouting and laughter and Paunch-drumming of the Goblins likewise eddied away into a dull murmur —— and the Goblin in the Green Pulpit raised a skeleton hand with the first-finger-bone elevated as a signal for attention.
“My friends!” it began—” My dear brethren — !”
Ha-HA! Ha-ha-HA!”
And the crowd of uncanny creatures twisted and writhed with ecstasy, tossing their queerly decorated heads about, and spreading their wide mouths into elastic grins which seemed to swallow up all the rest of their faces. As if in sympathy with the general hilarity, the “Reverend Mr. Firebrand” grinned also — a peculiar and very ghastly grin indeed.
“My friends!” he or It resumed—” How good it is for us all to be here! What a sign of regeneration — !”
“Ha-ha-HA!”
“Of penitence—”
“Ha-ha!”
“Of unselfishness and charity—”
“Ha-ha-ha!”
“Of hope for the future—”
“Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!”
“Of everything beautiful, pleasant, and truthful! Oh, how good it is to know that we are thus assembled together, and that we have among us a Human Creature. unlike, yet so like ourselves! Oh, my dear friends! ‘Lest we forget,’ let us remember that we were all Humans once! All Humans! — all Humbugs! — and such respectable Humbugs too! Oh, my friends, let us turn our thoughts back along the tide of Time — the tide of Time is such a fine expression! — and reflect on those days — the days of frock-coats and top-hats! The days when we were GOOD!”
“Ha-ha-HA! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo!” Screams of laughter echoed through the dim space, where now, faintly discernible through a floating red vapour, the trembling Josiah caught sight of the glittering tubes of a great organ, and scarcely had he seen this when CRASH! — went the keys with a droning and discordant thunder. A hideous black scarecrow of a Goblin, waving its paws or claws about fantastically, began performing on the instrument, whereat all the impish congregation burst out yelling in chorus:
“When WE were ‘good,’ in all the world
None were so ‘good’ as WE;
WE thought OURSELVES the only ones
Whose souls would saved BE! —
When WE were ‘good’ our neighbours all
We found so very BAD,
That only us, and only WE
Some little Morals HAD!
“When WE were ‘good,’ we went to
Church, That every one might see
How ‘good’ we were, — much better far
Than other folks could be! —
We slandered all our dearest friends,
Told all the lies we could,
And chose our own front seats in Heaven,
Because we were so ‘good’!
“And now we find that other folks
Whom we thought very BAD,
Were better than OURSELVES at best,
And ALL the Morals HAD!
And sad to say, we’ve lived to learn,
That shuffle as we would,
No HUMBUG lasts in Heaven or Hell
Not even—’ BEING GOOD’!”
Renewed yelping, and “hoo-roos” of diabolical laughter followed this vocal effort, and the miserable Josiah McNason felt cold trickles of perspiration running down his back as he listened. Yet he could not speak. Speech for the moment was taken from him, — he tried to utter some word — some ejaculation, — but his tongue was stiffened in his mouth as though it were paralysed. And he was forced to pay close attention to the “Reverend Mr. Firebrand” whether he liked it or not.
“Oh my friends!” pursued that grim and ghastly preacher—” How I thank you for that beautiful hymn! How sweetly it expresses our innermost feelings! Does it not, my friends? Oh yes, indeed it does! And our brother here — our Human brother — does it not express his feelings likewise? Yes — oh yes! — indeed it does!”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-HA!” shrieked the Goblins—” Indeed it does! Ha-HA!”
“Our Human brother,” went on “Mr.
Firebrand”—” is a ‘good ‘man—”
“Hoo-oo! Hoo-roo! — Hoo — oo!”
“A ‘good’ man because, my friends, he has made Money! Money is Morals, — Morals are Money! Our Human brother is a rich man, — therefore virtuous. Virtue, as you all know, consists in being rich, — Vice in being poor. Our Human brother is also a wise man. Wisdom consists in looking after Number One. He does that! He has always done it admirably! Number One is to him the centre of the universe. And we sympathise with him, do we not, my friends? Oh yes, oh yes, we do! For we also, in former days — we also looked after Number One. Not One Timothy Two! No — no! One Self One! That was our text in life. And we acted up to it, did we not, my friends? Oh yes, we did — we did! We should not be here now if we had not looked after Number One!”
“Hoo-roo! — oh — oh — Hoo-roo!”
And the wild cry had a dismal note in it this time like the shriek of the wailing wind.
“Again, my friends,” — went on the Goblin “Firebrand,”—” Our Human brother is a charitable man. We all know what charity is, do we not? Oh yes, we do! Charity begins at home! Charity never gives a penny away unless it can get something for itself out of the bargain! Charity never subscribes to anything unless it can see its name printed on a subscription list! That’s Charity, my friends! — as WE understand it — as our Human brother understands it! The Charity which distinguished us when we, — like our Human brother, — wore frock-coats and top-hats on Sundays, was a charity which suffered nothing and was never kind, — envied everybody, — vaunted itself greatly, — was always puffed up, — often behaved itself unseemly, — sought its own, — was easily provoked, — thought evil of most things, — rejoiced in iniquity, — hated the truth, — bore nothing, — believed nothing, — hoped nothing, — endured nothing! This is the Charity of Human Nature — material Human Nature! — and our Human brother is a glorious living example of it! Soon — oh yes! — very soon! — our charitable Human brother will give twenty thousand pounds to a hospital. How generous! How noble! The poor and sick will benefit, — but our Human brother will not be left out in the cold! Oh no! He will buy a Peerage with the money and also with an additional ‘little diplomacy.’ And he will be a lord! — oh my brethren, how great a thing it is to be a lord! Do we not know this? Yes, indeed, indeed we do! Some of us have been lords, and some of us have been commons. Both sets have their advantages. But when one is a lord, one can do so much! One can become the ‘noble’ director of bogus ‘Companies,’ and pocket a fee for attendance at every meeting! And one can owe bills to one’s tailor for an indefinite period! And one can sell one’s self and one’s ‘nobility’ to any American female title-hunter who will pay sufficient cash down!
Oh yes, my brethren, it is a great thing to be a lord! And when our Human brother is a lord, he will be so proud and glad that he won’t know himself! He is a good man now, but when he becomes a peer, he will be a better one! Oh yes, my friends! — the world and Human Nature generally will find him better, wiser, more generous, more charitable, more everything that is pleasant, beautiful, and truthful! Will it not be so? Yes, indeed it will be so! We know it will be so, for we were all ‘good’ men! I myself was a ‘good’ man — once!”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-HA! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
And like twisting boughs of trees in a storm, the goblins swayed and rocked themselves to and fro, convulsed with laughter.
“I say I was a ‘good’ man!” repeated the demon preacher, leaning down over the edge of the green pulpit, and rolling its goggle eyes at its audience, particularly at the shuddering McNason—” Good in the sense that you and I and our Human brother understand goodness! I wore a top-hat—”
