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When the World Shook
Being an Account of the Great Adventure
of Bastin； Bickley and Arbuthnot
by H。 Rider Haggard
DEDICATION
Ditchingham； 1918。
MY DEAR CURZON；
More than thirty years ago you tried to protect me； then a
stranger to you； from one of the falsest and most malignant
accusations ever made against a writer。
So complete was your exposure of the methods of those at work
to blacken a person whom they knew to be innocent； that； as you
will remember； they refused to publish your analysis which
destroyed their charges and； incidentally； revealed their
motives。
Although for this reason vindication came otherwise； your
kindness is one that I have never forgotten； since； whatever the
immediate issue of any effort； in the end it is the intention
that avails。
Therefore in gratitude and memory I ask you to accept this
romance； as I know that you do not disdain the study of romance
in the intervals of your Imperial work。
The application of its parable to our state and possibilities
beneath or beyond these glimpses of the moonI leave to your
discernment。
Believe me；
Ever sincerely yours；
H。 RIDER HAGGARD。
To
The Earl Curzon of Kedleston； K。G。
CONTENTS
1。 ARBUTHNOT DESCRIBES HIMSELF
2。 BASTIN AND BICKLEY
3。 NATALIE
4。 DEATH AND DEPARTURE
5。 THE CYCLONE
6。 LAND
7。 THE OROFENANS
8。 BASTIN ATTEMPTS THE MARTYR'S CROWN
9。 THE ISLAND IN THE LAKE
10。 THE DWELLERS IN THE TOMB
11。 RESURRECTION
12。 TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND YEARS！
13。 ORO SPEAKS AND BASTIN ARGUES
14。 THE UNDER…WORLD
15。 ORO IN HIS HOUSE
16。 VISIONS OF THE PAST
17。 YVA EXPLAINS
18。 THE ACCIDENT
19。 THE PROPOSALS OF BASTIN AND BICKLEY
20。 ORO AND ARBUTHNOT TRAVEL BY NIGHT
21。 LOVE'S ETERNAL ALTAR
22。 THE COMMAND
23。 IN THE TEMPLE OF FATE
24。 THE CHARIOT OF THE PIT
25。 SACRIFICE
26。 TOMMY
27。 BASTIN DISCOVERS A RESEMBLANCE
28。 NOTE BY J。 R。 BICKLEY； M。R。C。S。
When the World Shook
Chapter I
Arbuthnot Describes Himself
I suppose that I； Humphrey Arbuthnot； should begin this history
in which Destiny has caused me to play so prominent a part； with
some short account of myself and of my circumstances。
I was born forty years ago in this very Devonshire village in
which I write； but not in the same house。 Now I live in the
Priory； an ancient place and a fine one in its way； with its
panelled rooms； its beautiful gardens where； in this mild
climate； in addition to our own； flourish so many plants which
one would only expect to find in countries that lie nearer to the
sun； and its green； undulating park studded with great timber
trees。 The view； too； is perfect； behind and around the rich
Devonshire landscape with its hills and valleys and its scarped
faces of red sandstone； and at a distance in front； the sea。
There are little towns quite near too； that live for the most
part on visitors； but these are so hidden away by the contours of
the ground that from the Priory one cannot see them。 Such is
Fulcombe where I live； though for obvious reasons I do not give
it its real name。
Many years ago my father； the Rev。 Humphrey Arbuthnot； whose
only child I am； after whom also I am named Humphrey； was the
vicar of this place with which our family is said to have some
rather vague hereditary connection。 If so； it was severed in the
Carolian times because my ancestors fought on the side of
Parliament。
My father was a recluse； and a widower； for my mother； a
Scotswoman； died at or shortly after my birth。 Being very High
Church for those days he was not popular with the family that
owned the Priory before me。 Indeed its head； a somewhat vulgar
person of the name of Enfield who had made money in trade； almost
persecuted him； as he was in a position to do； being the local
magnate and the owner of the rectorial tithes。
I mention this fact because owing to it as a boy I made up my
mind that one day I would buy that place and sit in his seat； a
wild enough idea at the time。 Yet it became engrained in me； as
do such aspirations of our youth； and when the opportunity arose
in after years I carried it out。 Poor old Enfield！ He fell on
evil fortunes； for in trying to bolster up a favourite son who
was a gambler； a spendthrift； and an ungrateful scamp； in the end
he was practically ruined and when the bad times came； was forced
to sell the Fulcombe estate。 I think of him kindly now； for after
all he was good to me and gave me many a day's shooting and leave
to fish for trout in the river。
By the poor people； however； of all the district round； for the
parish itself is very small； my father was much beloved； although
he did practise confession； wear vestments and set lighted
candles on the altar； and was even said to have openly expressed
the wish； to which however he never attained； that he could see a
censer swinging in the chancel。 Indeed the church which； as monks
built it； is very large and fine； was always full on Sundays；
though many of the worshippers came from far away； some of them
doubtless out of curiosity because of its papistical repute； also
because； in a learned fashion； my father's preaching was very
good indeed。
For my part I feel that I owe much to these High…Church views。
They opened certain doors to me and taught me something of the
mysteries which lie at the back of all religions and therefore
have their home in the inspired soul of man whence religions are
born。 Only the pity is that in ninety…nine cases out of a hundred
he never discovers； never even guesses at that entombed
aspiration； never sinks a shaft down on to this secret but most
precious vein of ore。
I have said that my father was learned； but this is a mild
description； for never did I know anyone quite so learned。 He was
one of those men who is so good all round that he became
preeminent…eminent in nothing。 A classic of the first water； a very
respectable mathematician； an expert in theology； a student of
sundry foreign languages and literature in his lighter moments；
an inquirer into sociology； a theoretical musician though his
playing of the organ excruciated most people because it was too
correct； a really first…class authority upon flint instruments
and the best grower of garden vegetables in the county； also of
applessuch were some of his attainments。 That was what made his
sermons so popular； since at times one or the other of these
subjects would break out into them； his theory being that God
spoke to us through all of these things。
But if I began to drift into an analysis of my father's
abilities； I should never stop。 It would take a book to describe
them。 And yet mark this； with them all his name is as dead to the
world to…day as though he had never been。 Light reflected from a
hundred facets dissipates itself in space and is lost； that
concentrated in one tremendous ray pierces to the stars。
Now I am going to be frank about myself； for without frankness
what is the value of such a record as this？ Then it becomes
simply another convention； or rather conventional method of
expressing the octoroon kind of truths with which the highly
civilised races feed themselves； as fastidious ladies eat cakes
and bread from which all but the smallest particle of nourishment
has been extracted。
The fact is； therefore； that I inherited most of my father's
abilities； except his love for flint instruments which always
bored me to distraction； because although they are by association
really the most human of things； somehow to me they never convey
any idea of humanity。 In addition I have a practical side which
he lacked； had he possessed it surely he must have become an
archbishop instead of dying the vicar of an unknown parish。 Also
I have a spiritual sense； mayhap mystical would be a better term；
which with all this religion was missing from my father's nature。
For I think that notwithstanding his charity and devotion he
never quite got away from the shell of things； never cracked it
and set his teeth in the kernel which alone can feed our souls。
His keen intellect； to take an example； recognised every one of
the difficulties of our faith and flashed hither and thither in
the darkness； seeking explanation； seeking light； trying to
reconcile； to explain。 He was not great enough to put all this
aside and go straight to the informing Soul beneath that strives
to express itself everywhere； even through those husks which are
called the World； the Flesh and the Devil； and as yet does not
always quite succeed。
It is this boggling over exteriors； this peering into pitfalls；
this desire to prove that