The Secret Power by Marie Corelli (dark academia books to read .TXT) 📖

But so long as the mob read the lies, so long will the liars flourish. And my argument is that if any two peoples are so brainless as to be led into war by their press, they are not fit to live—no more fit than the mosquitoes that once made Panama a graveyard.”

Gwent smoked leisurely, regarding his companion with unfeigned interest.

“Apparently you haven’t much respect for life?” he said.

“Not when it is diseased life—not when it is perverted life;”— returned Seaton—“Then it is mere deformity and encumbrance. For life itself in all its plenitude, health and beauty I have the deepest, most passionate respect. It is the outward ray or reflex of the image of God—”

“Stop there!” interrupted Gwent—“You believe in God?”

“I do,—most utterly! That is to say I believe in an all-pervading Mind originating and commanding the plan of the Universe. We talk of ‘ions’ and ‘electrons’—but we are driven to confess that a Supreme Intelligence has the creation of electrons, and directs them as to the formation of all existing things. To that Mind—to that Intelligence—I submit my soul! And I do NOT believe that this Supreme Mind desires evil or sorrow,—we create disaster ourselves, and it is ourselves that must destroy it, We are given free-will—if we ‘will’ to create disease, we must equally ‘will’ to exterminate it by every means in our power.”

“I think I follow you”—said Gwent, slowly—“But now, as regards this Supreme Intelligence, I suppose you will admit that the plan of creation is a dual sort of scheme—that is to say ‘male and female created He them’?”

“Why, of course!” and Seaton smiled—“The question is superfluous!”

“I asked it,” went on Gwent—“because you seem to eliminate the female element from your life altogether. Therefore, so I take it, you are not at your full strength, either as a scientist or philosopher. You are a kind of eagle, trying to fly high on one wing. You’ll need the other! There, don’t look at me in that savage way! I’m merely making my own comments on your position,—you needn’t mind them. I want to get out of the tangle-up of things you have suggested. You fancy it would be easy to get the United States Government to purchase your discovery and pledge themselves to use it on occasion for the complete wiping out of a nation,—any nation- that decided to go to war,-and, failing their acceptance, or the acceptance of any government on these lines, you purpose doing the deed yourself. Well!—I can tell you straight away it’s no use my trying to negotiate such a business, The inhumanity of it is to palpable.”

“What of the inhumanity of war?” asked Seaton.

“That PAYS!” replied Gwent, with emphasis—“You don’t, or won’t, seem to recognise that blistering fact! The inhumanity of war pays everybody concerned in it except the fellows who fight to order. They are the ‘raw material.’ They get used up. YOUR business WOULDN’T ‘pay.’ And what won’t ‘pay’ is no good to anybody in this present sort of world.”

Seaton, still standing erect, bent his eyes on the lean hard features of his companion with eloquent scorn.

“So! Everything must be measured and tested by money!” he said—“And yet you senators talk of reform!—of a ‘new’ world!—of a higher code of conduct between man and man—”

“Yes, we talk”—interrupted Gwent—“But we don’t mean what we say!— we should never think of meaning it!”

“‘Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!’” quoted Seaton with passionate emphasis.

“Just so! The Lord Christ said it two thousand years ago, and it’s true to-day! We haven’t improved!”

With an impatient movement, Seaton strode to the door of his hut and looked out at the wide sky,—then turned back again. Gwent watched him critically.

“After all,” he said, “It isn’t as if you wanted anything of anybody. Money is no object of yours. If it were I should advise your selling your discovery to Morgana Royal,—she’d buy it—and, I tell you what!—SHE’D USE IT!”

“Thanks!” and Seaton nodded curtly—“I can use it myself!”

“True!” And Gwent looked interestedly at his dwindling Havana—“You can!” There followed a pause during which Gwent thought of the strange predicament in which the world might find itself, under the scientific rule of one man who had it in his power to create a terrific catastrophe without even “showing his hand.” “Anyway, Seaton, you surely want to make something out of life for yourself, don’t you?”

“What IS there to be made out of it?” he asked.

“Well!happiness-the physical pleasure of living—”

“I AM happy”—declared Seaton—“and I entirely appreciate the physical pleasure of living. But I should be happier and better pleased with life if I could rid the earth of some of its mischief, disease and sorrow—”

“How about leaving that to the Supreme Intelligence?” interposed Gwent.

“That’s just it! The Supreme Intelligence led me to the discovery I have made—and I feel that it has been given into my hands for a purpose. Gwent, I am positive that this same Supreme Intelligence expects his creature, Man, to help Him in the evolvement and work of the Universe! It is the only reasonable cause for Man’s existence. We must help, not hinder, the scheme of which we are a part. And wherever hindrance comes in we are bound to remove and destroy it!”

The last ash of Gwent’s cigar fell to the floor, and Gwent himself rose from his chair.

“Well, I suppose we’ve had our talk out”—he said; “I came here prepared to offer you a considerable sum for your discovery—but I can’t go so far as a Government pledge. So I must leave you to it. You know”—here he hesitated—“you know a good many people would consider you mad—”

Seaton laughed.

“Oh, that goes without saying! Did you ever hear of any scientist possessing a secret drawn from the soul of nature that was not called ‘mad’ at once by his compeers and the public? I can stand THAT accusation! Pray Heaven I never get as mad as a Wall Street gambler!”

“You will, if you gamble with the lives of nations!” said Gwent.

“Let the nations beware how they gamble with their own lives!” retorted Seaton—“You say war is a method of money-making—let them take heed how they touch money coined in human blood! I—one man only,—but an instrument of the Supreme Intelligence,—I say and swear there shall be no more wars!”

As he uttered these words there was something almost supernatural in the expression of his face—his attitude, proudly erect, offered a kind of defiance to the world,—and involuntarily Gwent, looking at him, thought of the verse in the Third Psalm—

“I laid me down and slept; I awaked for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of the people that have set themselves against me round about.”

“No—he would not be afraid!” Gwent mused—“He is a man for whom there is no such thing as fear! But—if it knew—the world might be afraid of HIM!”

Aloud he said—“Well, you may put an end to war, but you will never put an end to men’s hatred and envy of one another, and if they can’t ‘let the steam off’ in fighting, they’ll find some other way which may be worse. If you come to consider it, all nature is at war with itself,—it’s a perpetual struggle to live, and it’s evident that the struggle was intended and ordained as universal law. Life would be pretty dull without effort—and effort means war.”

“War against what?—against whom?” asked Seaton.

“Against whatever or whoever opposes the effort,” replied Gwent, promptly—“There must be opposition, otherwise effort would be unnecessary. My good fellow, you’ve got an idea that you can alter the fixed plan of things, but you can’t. The cleverest of us are only like goldfish in a glass bowl—they see the light through, but they cannot get to it. The old ship of the world will sail on its appointed way to its destined port,—and the happiest creatures are those who are content to sail with it in the faith that God is at the helm!” He broke off, smiling at his own sudden eloquence, then added—“By-the-by, where is your laboratory?”

“Haven’t got one!” replied Seaton, briefly.

“What! Haven’t got one! Why, how do you make your stuff?”

Seaton laughed.

“You think I’m going to tell you? Mr. Senator Gwent, you take me for a greater fool than I am! My ‘stuff’ needs neither fire nor crucible,—the formula was fairly complete before I left Washington, but I wanted quiet and solitude to finish what I had begun. It is finished now. That’s why I sent for you to make the proposition which you say you cannot carry through.”

“Finished, is it?” queried Gwent, abstractedly—“And you have it here?—in a finished state?”

Seaton nodded affirmatively.

“Then I suppose”—said Gwent with a nervous laugh—“you could ‘finish’ ME, if it suited your humour?”

“I could, certainly!” and Seaton gave him quite an encouraging smile—“I could reduce Mr. Senator Gwent into a small pinch of grey dust in about forty seconds, without pain! You wouldn’t feel it I assure you! It would be too swift for feeling.”

“Thanks! Much obliged!” said Gwent—“I won’t trouble you this morning! I rather enjoy being alive.”

“So do I!” declared Seaton, still smiling—“I only state what I COULD do.”

Gwent stood at the door of the hut and surveyed the scenery.

“You’ve a fine, wild view here”—he said—“I think I shall stay at the Plaza a day or two before returning to Washington. There’s a very attractive girl there.”

“Oh, you mean Manella”—said Seaton, carelessly; “Yes, she’s quite a beauty. She’s the maid, waitress or ‘help’ of some sort at the hotel.”

“She’s a good ‘draw’ for male visitors”—said Gwent—“Many a man I know would pay a hundred dollars a day to have her wait upon him!”

“Would YOU?” asked Seaton, amused.

“Well!—perhaps not a hundred dollars a day, but pretty near it! Her eyes are the finest I’ve ever seen.”

Seaton made no comment.

“You’ll come and dine with me to-night, won’t you?” went on Gwent— “You can spare me an hour or two of your company?”

“No, thanks”—Seaton replied—“Don’t think me a churlish brute—but I don’t like hotels or the people who frequent them. Besides—we’ve done our business.”

“Unfortunately there was no business doing!” said Gwent—“Sorry I couldn’t take it on.”

“Don’t be sorry! I’ll take it on myself when the moment comes. I would have preferred the fiat of a great government to that of one unauthorised man—but if there’s no help for it then the one man must act.”

Gwent looked at him with a grave intentness which he meant to be impressive.

“Seaton, these new scientific discoveries are dangerous tools!” he said—“If they are not handled carefully they may work more mischief than we dream of. Be on your guard! Why, we might break up the very planet we live on, some day!”

“Very possible!” answered Seaton, lightly—“But it wouldn’t be missed! Come,—I’ll walk with you half way down the hill.”

He threw on a broad palmetto hat as a shield against the blazing sun, for it was now the full heat of the afternoon, while Gwent solemnly unfurled a white canvas umbrella which, folded, served him on occasion as a walking-stick. A greater contrast could hardly be imagined than that afforded by the two men,—the conventionally clothed, stiff-jointed Washington senator, and the fine, easy supple figure of his roughly garbed companion; and Manella, watching them descend the hill from a coign of vantage in the Plaza gardens, criticised their appearance in her own special way.

“Poof!” she said to herself, snapping her fingers