The Mysterious Stranger, and Other Stories
it!” And so in a moment they were in a raging and noisy turmoil,
and beating and banging one another; and in the midst was the only
indifferent one--the dead lady hanging from her rope, her troubles
forgotten, her spirit at peace.
So we walked away, and I was not at ease, but was saying to myself, “He
told them he was laughing at them, but it was a lie--he was laughing at
me.”
That made him laugh again, and he said, “Yes, I was laughing at you,
because, in fear of what others might report about you, you stoned the
woman when your heart revolted at the act--but I was laughing at the
others, too.”
“Why?”
“Because their case was yours.”
“How is that?”
“Well, there were sixty-eight people there, and sixty-two of them had no
more desire to throw a stone than you had.”
“Satan!”
“Oh, it's true. I know your race. It is made up of sheep. It is governed
by minorities, seldom or never by majorities. It suppresses its feelings
and its beliefs and follows the handful that makes the most noise.
Sometimes the noisy handful is right, sometimes wrong; but no matter,
the crowd follows it. The vast majority of the race, whether savage or
civilized, are secretly kind-hearted and shrink from inflicting pain,
but in the presence of the aggressive and pitiless minority they don't
dare to assert themselves. Think of it! One kind-hearted creature spies
upon another, and sees to it that he loyally helps in iniquities which
revolt both of them. Speaking as an expert, I know that ninety-nine out
of a hundred of your race were strongly against the killing of witches
when that foolishness was first agitated by a handful of pious lunatics
in the long ago. And I know that even to-day, after ages of transmitted
prejudice and silly teaching, only one person in twenty puts any real
heart into the harrying of a witch. And yet apparently everybody hates
witches and wants them killed. Some day a handful will rise up on the
other side and make the most noise--perhaps even a single daring man
with a big voice and a determined front will do it--and in a week all
the sheep will wheel and follow him, and witch-hunting will come to a
sudden end.
“Monarchies, aristocracies, and religions are all based upon that large
defect in your race--the individual's distrust of his neighbor, and his
desire, for safety's or comfort's sake, to stand well in his neighbor's
eye. These institutions will always remain, and always flourish, and
always oppress you, affront you, and degrade you, because you will
always be and remain slaves of minorities. There was never a country
where the majority of the people were in their secret hearts loyal to
any of these institutions.”
I did not like to hear our race called sheep, and said I did not think
they were.
“Still, it is true, lamb,” said Satan. “Look at you in war--what mutton
you are, and how ridiculous!”
“In war? How?”
“There has never been a just one, never an honorable one--on the part
of the instigator of the war. I can see a million years ahead, and this
rule will never change in so many as half a dozen instances. The
loud little handful--as usual--will shout for the war. The pulpit
will--warily and cautiously--object--at first; the great, big, dull bulk
of the nation will rub its sleepy eyes and try to make out why there
should be a war, and will say, earnestly and indignantly, “It is unjust
and dishonorable, and there is no necessity for it.” Then the handful
will shout louder. A few fair men on the other side will argue and
reason against the war with speech and pen, and at first will have a
hearing and be applauded; but it will not last long; those others will
outshout them, and presently the anti-war audiences will thin out
and lose popularity. Before long you will see this curious thing: the
speakers stoned from the platform, and free speech strangled by hordes
of furious men who in their secret hearts are still at one with those
stoned speakers--as earlier--but do not dare to say so. And now the
whole nation--pulpit and all--will take up the war-cry, and shout itself
hoarse, and mob any honest man who ventures to open his mouth; and
presently such mouths will cease to open. Next the statesmen will invent
cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and
every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will
diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them;
and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and
will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of
grotesque self-deception.”
Chapter 10
Days and days went by now, and no Satan. It was dull without him. But
the astrologer, who had returned from his excursion to the moon, went
about the village, braving public opinion, and getting a stone in the
middle of his back now and then when some witch-hater got a safe chance
to throw it and dodge out of sight. Meantime two influences had been
working well for Marget. That Satan, who was quite indifferent to her,
had stopped going to her house after a visit or two had hurt her pride,
and she had set herself the task of banishing him from her heart.
Reports of Wilhelm Meidling's dissipation brought to her from time to
time by old Ursula had touched her with remorse, jealousy of Satan
being the cause of it; and so now, these two matters working upon her
together, she was getting a good profit out of the combination--her
interest in Satan was steadily cooling, her interest in Wilhelm as
steadily warming. All that was needed to complete her conversion
was that Wilhelm should brace up and do something that should cause
favorable talk and incline the public toward him again.
The opportunity came now. Marget sent and asked him to defend her
uncle in the approaching trial, and he was greatly pleased, and stopped
drinking and began his preparations with diligence. With more diligence
than hope, in fact, for it was not a promising case. He had many
interviews in his office with Seppi and me, and threshed out our
testimony pretty thoroughly, thinking to find some valuable grains among
the chaff, but the harvest was poor, of course.
If Satan would only come! That was my constant thought. He could
invent some way to win the case; for he had said it would be won, so
he necessarily knew how it could be done. But the days dragged on, and
still he did not come. Of course I did not doubt that it would be won,
and that Father Peter would be happy for the rest of his life, since
Satan had said so; yet I knew I should be much more comfortable if he
would come and tell us how to manage it. It was getting high time for
Father Peter to have a saving change toward happiness, for by general
report he was worn out with his imprisonment and the ignominy that was
burdening him, and was like to die of his miseries unless he got relief
soon.
At last the trial came on, and the people gathered from all around to
witness it; among them many strangers from considerable distances. Yes,
everybody was there except the accused. He was too feeble in body for
the strain. But Marget was present, and keeping up her hope and her
spirit the best she could. The money was present, too. It was emptied
on the table, and was handled and caressed and examined by such as were
privileged.
The astrologer was put in the witness-box. He had on his best hat and
robe for the occasion.
QUESTION. You claim that this money is yours?
ANSWER. I do.
Q. How did you come by it?
A. I found the bag in the road when I was returning from a journey.
Q. When?
A. More than two years ago.
Q. What did you do with it?
A. I brought it home and hid it in a secret place in my observatory,
intending to find the owner if I could.
Q. You endeavored to find him?
A. I made diligent inquiry during several months, but nothing came of
it.
Q. And then?
A. I thought it not worth while to look further, and was minded to use
the money in finishing the wing of the foundling-asylum connected with
the priory and nunnery. So I took it out of its hiding-place and counted
it to see if any of it was missing. And then--
Q. Why do you stop? Proceed.
A. I am sorry to have to say this, but just as I had finished and was
restoring the bag to its place, I looked up and there stood Father Peter
behind me.
Several murmured, “That looks bad,” but others answered, “Ah, but he is
such a liar!”
Q. That made you uneasy?
A. No; I thought nothing of it at the time, for Father Peter often came
to me unannounced to ask for a little help in his need.
Marget blushed crimson at hearing her uncle falsely and impudently
charged with begging, especially from one he had always denounced as a
fraud, and was going to speak, but remembered herself in time and held
her peace.
Q. Proceed.
A. In the end I was afraid to contribute the money to the
foundling-asylum, but elected to wait yet another year and continue
my inquiries. When I heard of Father Peter's find I was glad, and no
suspicion entered my mind; when I came home a day or two later and
discovered that my own money was gone I still did not suspect until
three circumstances connected with Father Peter's good fortune struck me
as being singular coincidences.
Q. Pray name them.
A. Father Peter had found his money in a path--I had found mine in a
road. Father Peter's find consisted exclusively of gold ducats--mine
also. Father Peter found eleven hundred and seven ducats--I exactly the
same.
This closed his evidence, and certainly it made a strong impression on
the house; one could see that.
Wilhelm Meidling asked him some questions, then called us boys, and we
told our tale. It made the people laugh, and we were ashamed. We were
feeling pretty badly, anyhow, because Wilhelm was hopeless, and showed
it. He was doing as well as he could, poor young fellow, but nothing was
in his favor, and such sympathy as there was was now plainly not with
his client. It might be difficult for court and people to believe
the astrologer's story, considering his character, but it was almost
impossible to believe Father Peter's. We were already feeling badly
enough, but when the astrologer's lawyer said he believed he would not
ask us any questions--for our story was a little delicate and it would
be cruel for him to put any strain upon it--everybody tittered, and
it was almost more than we could bear. Then he made a sarcastic little
speech, and got so much fun out of our tale, and it seemed so ridiculous
and childish and every way impossible and foolish, that it made
everybody laugh till the tears came; and at last Marget could not keep
up her courage any longer, but broke down and cried, and I was so sorry
for her.
Now I noticed something that braced me up. It was Satan standing
alongside of Wilhelm! And there was such a contrast!--Satan looked so
confident, had such a spirit in his eyes and face, and Wilhelm looked so
depressed and despondent. We two were comfortable now, and judged that
he would testify and persuade the bench and the people that black was
white and white black, or any other color he wanted it. We glanced
around to see what the strangers in the house thought of him, for he was
beautiful, you know--stunning, in fact--but no one was noticing him; so
we knew by that that he was invisible.
The lawyer was saying his last words; and while he was saying them Satan
began to melt into Wilhelm. He melted into him and disappeared; and then
there was a change, when his spirit began to look out of Wilhelm's eyes.
That lawyer finished quite seriously, and with dignity. He pointed to
the money, and said:
“The love of it is the root of all evil. There it lies, the ancient
tempter, newly red with the shame of its latest victory--the dishonor of