A Twentieth Century Idealist

by Henry Pettit

And the Doctor, the inquisitive, sincere Doctor Wise—he asked no further questions when he stood aside as the groom’s best man; no questions about things in the heavens above and the earth beneath, nor even about the spirits of just men made perfect, here or anywhere else. The Doctor would have much enjoyed wearing knickerbockers as when he went outing with Paul, particularly so since Paul appeared in white flannels, and if need be he could be ready for tennis or cricket as soon as the ceremony was over; but propriety forbade. Proprieties were apt to be a wee bit inconvenient from the Doctor’s point of view; and just at present he was more nervous than the groom, nervous to get the thing over and have done with it. Such was the Doctor as he appeared on the surface; fundamentally he was the very personification of congratulation and joy. He knew that nature had taken the true course with these two, both so endeared to him. He rejoiced in being able to witness and appreciate so much that was good in nature and in co-operation. He was supremely happy too, but from yet another cause in nature; that the Creator in kindness had thus made him, a very ordinary man, able to see so much clearly, and yet not himself be lost in the mysterious maelstrom of life.

The ladies gave the Doctor precious little opportunity to do anything whatever on an occasion when bachelors-on-the-shelf do not count; but he did search the country from Calcutta to Nepaul to obtain some flowers which he knew were desired by Adele, the bridal bouquet. A very simple one after all, white rose-buds amid cultivated heliotrope. It seemed at one time as if every sort of flower and shrub flourished in the Himalaya region except what he wanted. He had parties hunting heliotrope as if it might grow on berry bushes; and when from a lofty tree mistletoe was brought him by mistake, he nearly sent the bearer to the foot of a precipice. But he got it. It was finally obtained, near by in a private conservatory, much to his relief and Adele’s delight. The bouquet held attached an exquisite lace handkerchief passed through a ring; the ring was set with a sapphire of purest quality, that peculiar shade in depth and delicacy which in the Orient is supposed to characterize the plumage of the Bird of Immortality. This gem, ever constant day or night, responsive to every ray of light, symbolized the true blue of precious worth—truth in purity and love. This was the Doctor’s gift. Adele had heard him speak of such a stone and its significance among sapphires of so many colors. She read his very thoughts as she pressed his hand when accepting this significant and beautiful gift. The fragrance of the flowers direct from nature; the handkerchief a work of art; and the gem a true blue symbol—all brought memories of their search after something worth knowing in many fields. Never did Adele appear more idyllic, poetic, aye, pastoral in the higher sense, than at this moment; and the Doctor blessed her—in spirit.

Thus, when Paul advanced to meet his bride, they stood among their own; the bridal party among their own race and nationality, together with cousins from their Mother Country, England—their faces radiant with hope and pleasure. A choral of mixed voices, volunteers from the Christian Colony, sang the processional; and the anthem was heard upon earth as it ascended heavenward. This near a chancel rail of natural growths, the line suggested by a carpet of wild flowers with cultivated beauties placed at intervals. And there were tree-ferns and palms, fountains of foliage at either end; the freshness of the fountains springing from the centre of the plant, its life within, not from near the exterior bark. Adele had expressed a desire for these plants with their heart-life in the centre; also because their significance was simple in nature, their natural beauty artistic, and their natural meaning too exalted and widespread to be affected seriously by passing fashions or fads. And the crimson rhododendrons decorated the background, while before them the Delectable Mountains and the azure blue.

The ceremony was first directed towards the world at large, for each individual to learn, mark, and spiritually digest that which this couple manifested of truth in humanity. It was a solemn period, while the people gave heed, each reading his or her personal experience into that of the new couple; to each (such was the condition in nature), from his individual point of view. As a matter of fact Adele felt as if the minister was speaking of some other than herself, and Paul felt as if all eyes must be turned on Adele.

Then the Servant of God turned towards this man and woman who would be one; a sacred moment when he pronounced them husband and wife. They knelt together, her hand in his—their first united prayer to “Our Father who art,” for this, from Him, unto themselves—as also One.

And when they arose, and together turned to face the world, behold a cloud of witnesses, out in the nave of the Cathedral, a multitude upon the hill-slopes and skirting the forests, every vantage ground occupied by natives drawn hither by the world-wide desire to see “a bride adorned for her husband;” actuated by countless motives which primitive and natural curiosity suggested; curious to see what the dominant people, English or Americans, would do when worshiping in the outer air like themselves; curious to see what a Christian marriage was like. Would it be gay and festive like their own? what sort of a dress would be worn by the bride? and would all her belongings and presents be carried along the road so that all could see that she was rich? and would there be a real feast? Thus many had been attracted by very practical reasons which they considered suitable to the occasion.

And who were these in bright array after their fashion? a little group not far from the bride herself. As if they had been especially invited, they stood before some bamboo wands, decorated for a gala-day; not before a thicket as once before, but with their bright signals in the open, the prayer-signals floating in the wind to attract the Good Spirits of the air.

And who were these in yellow robes? with trumpets and bowls in their hands, and outlandish masks pendant from their girdles; yet cheerful faces withal, and wearing fillets and earrings of turquoise and coral taken from the “curio-case” in their Temple. And one poor decrepit native priestess with her good old prayer-wheel and bean rosary, twirling the wheel and rattling the beans regardless of all else; one who knew her wheel and rosary were good, because they were very old, like herself—she had used them from childhood. Who were they?

Because they were not arrayed in modern dress, some thought them intruders, sheep of another fold gotten astray. Many thought so, all except Paul and the Doctor who knew what Adele herself had done; how she had gone out into the highways and hedges to compel them to come in and take their place near her. They were surely entitled as members of the congregation of the original Primate of the Cathedral, these poor Lepchas now Adele’s friends, to a place very far front. And the gay Taoists, also her Himalaya friends, whom she had met, and with whom she had worshiped in their own chapel, learning to be with them and of them, in spirit. Although crude and tawdry now, these Taoists, they were the professed followers of Laotze, a highly spiritual man who had given to the world one of the most abstruse, recondite, metaphysical forms of religion ever known to humanity. “Oh, what a fall was there!” thought Adele as she saw the Taoists of to-day; but she invited them just the same, she wished them to be with her now on an occasion she considered sacred.

And more surprising still, in this region: