CHAPTER VII
The days flew away, all happy and free from care.
One evening, after dinner, Virginius asked me to take a walk with him. We strolled into the clear night, and through the grounds that lay behind the house. This brought us to the outskirts of the city, and the road led up a gentle hillside toward the forest, that bounded this side of the city for many miles.
He led me into it, and its wonderful soft beauty descended on the spirit, and brought a feeling half of sadness unmixed with pain. Indeed, to be sad in heaven is a luxury—one of the most delicate pleasures it can give.
Along the winding paths and mossy banks the faintest glow of light was shining. It now touched the sleeping flower-bells and the blades of grass, whitened the dark barks of trees, and lit upon the forest brooks that rippled and clattered in the silence with anabandonall their own.
We walked on, each occupied by thoughts, sweet perhaps as sad, till at last, throwing himself down on a bank that sloped towards a branching rivulet, he spoke.
“Genius, I am going to tell you something. Perhaps the world will laugh—it has ever laughed when truth was spoken—but, be that as it may, you can but repeat with truthfulness and pure simplicity what you have heard me say. I have fought many years for the earth, have undergone great hardships for it, been true to it through thick and thin, pitied it, striven for it, respected its suffering. I do not say this in order to extol my own hard labours. Why should I? Others like myself are working and have worked—it is our duty. But now I am going to tell you a little of its history. I force it upon no one. I tell it you, you will repeat it to others; whether they think about it or laugh at it, it is not for me to say. But if they think, they will not laugh, of that you may rest assured.
“Long ago, in the ages long before man was ever known upon the earth, the spirit world moved and lived. From eternity into eternity, so the great wave ran, just as it ever has and will do. Man cannot grasp it, no more than a lifeless seed can understand the flower it brings to light and life. We were happy, in that half-unconscious youth that clings through eternity. Springing into life and form and power by our own strength and guiding intellect, glorious and true in every conception, with other life springing up around us, giving and taking, now one thing, now another, a mist, a wraith, unconsciousness of feeling or of form, then again resplendent, hard or brilliant, full of consciousness or life. And so the ages rolled in this corner of space in which we lived. Sometimes we would roam abroad as now into the far, far fields of space, ever with that courteous interchange of hospitality which is the birthright of all our race. We were friends, friends as only those born as gods can ever be. To live with us was to love and to respect. But this has nothing to do with humanity, I must advance.
“The blind forces of Nature were our servants—I have shown you how. Pure intellect and inanimate material produced by it mixed together, devoid of feeling and the higher life. Then because experiment and movement are a part of our being we designed the worlds. Some gave one thing, some another, and at last the mighty cast was ready. Then came the great convocation, and the question, whom to put upon these spheres. Those ours previously we retained, but those thrown off from us were a prize for the highest intellect to settle.
“I remember well the great assembly seated on thrones which were no thrones of preparation, but the outcome of that dazzling light which draws round all of us.
“Then Vestasian rose—you know him—Fairest of the Fair—Lightest of Light—the best-beloved of all. He was more beautiful than the sun, and stronger, with what seemed to be all the soft graces that combine in woman, all the clear intellect and strength of man. I doubt that this soft grace was but the flimsy covering that hid the great difference betwixt such as he and me. Till then he had been my best-beloved brother next to Plucritus, who, once having sprung into birth with me, was like myself.
“But to return.
“In the clear silence that accompanied his rising Vestasian spoke,—
“‘It is our nature to be kind and courteous. Nature, our humble servant, needs some reward for all these ages of untiring work. We can but repay her labours with a crown made in our own image, built on our lines, endued with all our intellect and reason, called by the simple name of Man.’
“You know his voice, as sweet as any woman’s, yet with the deep note ringing in it that compels a hearing, even from those who would not hear.
“Ringing applause followed these words, for his simplicity and courtesy were wonderful; he had given voice to the thoughts of all, yet with such sweet humility that never had my love for him before reached such limits.
“Then from near at hand Plucritus spoke, leaning back half indolently, a faint smile hovering on his lips.
“‘Are we to raise gods from soil?’ he asked. ‘Nature will groan beneath the burden and cast it on to us.’
“Silence followed, till a brother of Vestasian, he who stood before the Cross and appeared in the hall of Pilate, said, ‘Let Nature provide the flesh and blood, we will supply the rest.’
“Next Gabriel rose.
“‘First let us hear Vestasian through,’ he suggested. ‘This is a project of which I for one would hear still more.’
“Vestasian rose and made that speech which in the annals of Heaven is so famous. I will give it briefly, leaving out much that he put in.
“‘I advise that we raise from the dust of earth beings like ourselves, inferior only in power, eternity, and infinite conception of wisdom. They should be the greatest living ornament of Nature, exceeding everything. Their lives should be a span of golden happiness and pleasure, as like our own as possible. But being frail, and merely the experimental plaything of the Godhead, I would withhold from them the knowledge of the higher state of good and evil, and I would bind them in to a phase of life having a gentle end.’
“Thus much Vestasian in simple words and few, a mixture of kindness and pride, and an indulgence which lacked wisdom, having nothing higher for its aim than a semblance of what was not.
“Next, Michael rose—he is held to be among the wisest of the wise. You must know that in the spirit world there are two great powers or principles—good and evil. Every higher Spirit is built up of either of these two, yet not the most keen-sighted can tell which is which till a difference arises, for in reality both are just alike, and only external and the weaker things can ever feel the different effects. Take for example Plucritus and myself; we are the same in everything except principle—that unreal thing which looks like a shadow but can alter everything. Yet he and I were the greatest friends together, following the same pursuits, interested by the same things, till the great argument arose. One might have thought this mutual fellow-feeling that pervaded all of us would have broken down all obstacles. But not so. It has always been the case in every constellation. The two powers, so similar at first, break apart at last, each understanding but not being the other. Yet each is necessary to the other, the two great principles that sway back and forwards and keep the balance even. For evil, as you think of evil on the earth, is but a relative and comparative thing, and not understanding it the earth looks down on it, which is another jest. For evil is as pure as good, as simple as good, as true as good, as beautiful and equal, the only difference being that its influence on things weaker than itself is to lower instead of raise.
“When Michael rose there was as deep a silence as for Vestasian, and he argued thus.
“He said that in the main he agreed with what had just been stated, but pointed out what an aimless existence man must lead, being born but for a short life of pleasure and beauty, and given enough spirit to enjoy and then to lose. He pointed out the great spiritual waste it would necessitate, since no result of any magnitude would be obtained from it.
“‘Not so,’ argued Vestasian. ‘Whatever effort they are able in themselves to accomplish successfully will return to us for our use, to make what we like out of this new experiment, which could not fail to produce some fruits worthy our gathering.’
“‘Ignorance never yet produced anything but—’ began the other.
“‘But Sin,’ Plucritus put in, so quietly that but for the intense silence it would have been lost even on those who sat beside him.
“Then all eyes were turned to him.
“I am ignorant, he said, looking at Michael. ‘I would hear more.’
“Thus asked, Michael unfolded his project.
“‘I hold with Vestasian,’ he declared, ‘that man’s life should be as happy as our own. But I would give him that wisdom which Vestasian would take away. I would give him the power to obtain the knowledge of good and evil, by patient striving to raise himself from the inanimate laws of nature to the pure rays that have their central light in us. That surely would be our greatest recompense to Nature, to quicken into spirit what has been raised from earth and dust and material substance.’
“This was the wisest and the greatest plan—or seemed to be—to let mankind learn by effort and endeavour to reach with purity the Highest—to withhold nothing from man, yet to grant nothing till he had found it.
“Then asked Plucritus:—
“‘And in this striving after wisdom, which side must the choice fall?’
“‘It may fall either—he is given a free will.’
“‘Is this race of men then to rival and outshine ourselves, that it may pick and choose betwixt us?’
“You will understand there was nothing but truth and purity and beauty in his words. He spoke as God despising propositions, not as man striving against his brother man.
“‘When man has once discovered good and evil he will be as God,’ Michael replied.
“For some space of time there was silence, till at last Plucritus rose.
“‘I would not willingly detain you, but this project seems to me absurd. To build up with Nature’s aid beings like ourselves! Nature, who never saw us, but followed blindly on the guiding principles that we laid down! Can anything exist that has not built itself? What is our strength and beauty but that we raised ourselves and now maintain ourselves as becomes true spirits? What weaklings would you introduce and draw towards us? What do we need with outside sycophants? Are we dull and life grows wearisome, we can change, as often in the past. But you are not dull. You are striving to break the bond of friendship, as it has been broken in so many spheres before mere trifle, an introduction of an alien element. Vestasian seeks to give pleasure to an inferior race. Give it and make them happy. Let them be thankful. Spare them the pain that runs in other orbits, for history repeats itself, and as in other placeschoose evil they shall not, and who can then choose good?’
“‘Why not?’ asked Vestasian, who had listened earnestly.
“‘It does away with the Free Will,’ Plucritus answered, and laughed.
“After that there was much argument, and gradually the rift began to grow and widen, and we discovered too late, or not too late, that it had been caused among us by the little biped—Man.
“So often do little things produce great strife and suffering.
“Thus it grew to a point of great dispute whether humanity was to have a free will or no, whether it was to receive gifts without striving and return them or to strive for wisdom, and in acquiring it gain everything. And after all, like all really little things, it was a great one. It affects us more nearly than even the wisest foresaw. It meant giving up so much, even of our own bodies, and entailed suffering and concentration of thought and purpose which happily by our nature adds to our strength and beauty and never takes away.
“Presently the conversation ended with courtesy as deep as that which started it. Yet we were no longer quite the same. Friends to ourselves, yet differing on one point, which, being Nature’s pinnacle, was an important one, needing consideration. War had been declared, that difference of opinion which always ends in it, and they were first in the field.
“For, rising up from sleep one morning, we beheld a difference in the spheres, visible only to the spirits’ eye. Not all were changed, but many; and one, your little earth, I will describe. Round it shone a mist, so delicately wrapped that it gave it quite a beauty of its own. This was the wreath of Mystery. We knew it well, and because its mystery was mysterious we approached and floated through its wide expanse to reach the earth—when suddenly we came upon a chain that bound the whole sphere round and stopped our passage. It was like an iron network, yet very fine and pliable like a fisherman’s. I, for one, cut the net and descended. It was very easy work, though it closed over our heads when we were through. Earth was no different from what it had ever seemed. No life was yet apparent on it. That followed.
“There was nothing there to be discovered; beyond the mist and chain things were as usual. At our next convocation this change was mentioned.
“They had seized the earth and other spheres, which henceforth belonged to them until such time as they cared to give them up.
“I had scarcely seen Vestasian in more excellent humour than on that day.
“‘We have considered your plans well,’ said he, ‘and have decided that after all a free will is the best thing for man. He shall choose betwixt Good and Evil, and shall receive whate’er his choice may fall to. If Evil, then he shall reap the fruits of Evil. If Good, then you must see to it. We have decided to make Man in our own image; allowing, of course for some slight divergences of Nature, who, not comprehending us to the full, cannot draw us altogether truthfully, yet the likeness shall be such that all can tell it. We intend to make them also male and female, so that they will be blessed even as ourselves and rank themselves our equals. Moreover, we invite you to behold and criticise our labours, which, though poor, are the nearest reflection of your own that we could find. Our system is comprehensive, it includes everything.’
“‘Therefore,’ remarked Plucritus, looking towards me, ‘you will, of course, expect to find it very muddled.’
“‘Let me ask one question,’ I broke in. ‘Does your system embrace physical decay and death?’
“‘Why, yes,’ Vestasian answered. ‘Of course. It is necessary in order to prevent overcrowding. Moreover, we have tried to combine your system with our own, and death would have been a phase in any case.’
“‘Yes,’ I argued. ‘But there is death and death.’
“‘What matter?’ said he. ‘You will soon find the pathway glutted, for all will crowd towards it, choosing by Free Will Good rather than Evil.’
“Then Vestasian, still laughing, rose to leave the Assembly.
“‘I am still a single spirit,’ he observed. ‘More lonely than most, yet still quite content. When from Earth a female Spirit is raised pure enough and wise enough to aspire unto the Godhead, I will marry her and admit that a Free Will is not a bad thing—even in Woman.’
“And with that he went away, and all remaining laughed.
“From that time forward the jest rolled onward, for to Vestasian and those like him it was nothing better than a jest, nor ever has been. They have fought and been obliged to suffer, even as we, because the spiritual warfare is incessant.
“We were in a perfect mystery about the earth. Beyond its shape and natural organism we knew nothing further of it.
“Gradually as the ages went by we discovered signs of life there. From this, in time, insects sprang, and hideous monsters and huge animals, and on all this we were obliged to keep incessant and untiring watch to discover when man first made his entry. This, as you know, was not for long, long ages. We touched first here and there on every animal, but found none sensitive: none responded in any way, and the rays slipped blunted aside.”
“But could you not tell from his appearance?” I asked, interrupting for the first time.
“No. There was no Garden of Eden as the Bible has it. That Garden of Eden might have been, and was not. It was Vestasian’s dream. Man was no different from the other animals when we found him; the mysterious jewel was hidden underneath unknown to us.
“One day one of our number had sent a shaft of light on to an animal more hideous than most, or so it seemed to us. There was no response, but as the shaft glanced aside it struck another of the same class lying near. The effect was very unexpected, though slight and momentary; the creature trembled. Having notified this much, another ray was directed full on this, a cry of pain followed. That was a surprise, a very sad one, because this was healing light. Here then we had found the first little clue to the great secret of humanity. The powers of hell laughed when they heard that cry, laughed when they saw our pained surprise. They had understood and waited for it. This that the ray had pierced was a woman. Well might Vestasian’s words call up a smile, for it was a thing devoid of beauty or intellect or grace. And that from which the ray had glinted aside was her husband—Man.
“But the first ray had struck home at last—the battle had at last begun. Each side had to prepare for the long fight, in which the atom of humanity turned the scale of equal-balanced powers. And so because woman was the first to receive what man could not understand it came about that he looked down on her, and treated her with contempt as a household drudge and worse. It was but another little jest of the great powers of Evil, turning all good to their own account, and instead of woman becoming the acknowledged influence to lead man to higher things, she sank under the stronger power of Evil for the most part, and delivered up the tiny ray of light to him—second-hand as it were, like the Apple in the Garden. It was but natural. The strongest gained and the weak went to the wall.
“But gradually, as century followed century in endless routine, the change began to show itself. True, every weapon of ours was met by a counter weapon from our brother spirits, yet slowly, inch by inch, the great fight was fought, the mystery unfolded.
“And at last intellect broke on cunning. Intellect is not a gift of ours. It comes from the other side. It was forced on them by us, though, since they did not give it till it could act as a slur to our teaching. Wisdom they have never given; it comes from us alone. Still for all that our progress was slow and uncertain. In the first place, we could not tell what had attracted humanity to us, because in structure they were but little different from the other animals—at one time not at all. It took long ages to solve the riddle, and it occupied the undivided attention of some of our wisest spirits.
“At last we discovered that the nucleus of each was a spiritual jewel set like a skeleton of empty cells. These cells, in the early ages, must always have remained empty, for otherwise they would have become noticeable, which they were not. But as the ages passed away we began to find that in some cases some of these cells at least were filling. It was a very wonderful structure, though simple. Every cell was bound to be filled with one of two things (if it filled at all)—Good or Evil. This was the soul—the thing that man has talked about so greatly, the thing for which we fight and which is so precious to us, forming our brightest jewels, and the seeds from which the after life is sown. When the soul is pure and free from every stain we receive it into our own spiritual bodies when death steals on the flesh. And as the Father of the Spirit we form those seeds within ourselves to our own natures. Then from us they pass into the essence of spiritual love and light, the purest element of spirit; such as my wife. And these are those gracious, loving mothers, without whose sweet care and love and wisdom in building up such tender life our labours would be lost. Since at the best the soul is but a crude thing, even when purest, as compared with things of heaven, and of itself would die and never germinate, having no strength to form itself. Indeed, who ever yet, however free from sin, felt themselves fit to step from earth to heaven even by death? For the long rest must come—the pure cleansing, the healing strength, the quickening spirit—to drive away the harshness and the shadow.
“But I have made a digression to explain. I must return to the earth’s history. I said our progress was slow and uncertain; but in eternity the time goes by without respect to feeling, it neither drags nor quickens. Hundreds, nay, thousands of years elapsed before we could make our power felt at all. The earth could not understand us. It was wrapped in the veil of mystery and the chain of slavery, and was blind and deaf to all influence from without. We were alien to it—strangers, ignorant, and, by the law of conquest, weak, for the world was not our own. Moreover, as you will perceive if you care to look into its history, the whole thing reads more or less as a farce, a jest of the Godhead, as indeed it was.
“Whenever good rose up it was rejected, scorned, despised and mocked till it grew old, and then respectability being born with age it was received and converted into evil. Good men died, egged on by screeching multitudes to death, themselves egged on by devils of inferior order, who had chosen evil rather than good. And there the farce and tragedy were again repeated. They rewarded evil with the effects of evil—as they said—bringing about all that torture and disrupture of the spirit, which, like the undying worm the Saviour spoke of, must writhe and twine until its appointed day. Moreover, this suffering and this great curse are due to us, they say. For had we been content to let man live his length of days without knowledge of good or evil, he would never have known pain, and passed away in happiness like summer mist.
“At last we made an agreement at another conference, and it was this.
“We had known that as years rolled by and the empty cells became capable of being filled they had on death descended to hell, there to be emptied or built into hideous shape according to their fulness. Now we demanded that each soul not completely given up to evil (or almost so) might, when emptied, return again to earth, for on some our light had shone, and it meant that this last ray went to swell the enemy’s spoils and weakened us, since it was giving up part of our being. They agreed to this, and then the after suffering began. Hell, previously, had been but the dark shadow, except to those trained to its menial service, who had wilfully steeped themselves in sin and shame.
“It was a bold, it may seem a cruel stroke, as it had taken us long to fathom this little riddle of growing evolution. Heaven is often depicted as a land of endless hallelujahs, but some of us have no taste that way. It needs an absorbing genius of wisdom (which is simplicity) even to understand it. And presently, after these years of failure and disappointment, another little step to success was reached. In hell they give devil’s medicine and devil’s punishment. And it is an excellent cure of its kind. They never punish lightly. If a thing is worth punishing they punish, if not they let it pass, to the winds, perhaps, if it is no use. And so those souls which had to be reclaimed, redeemed if you like it better, suffered their punishment and then returned for the second time to earth. But the cloud of mystery again surrounded them. They remembered, yet remembered not. They were, and are, those more sensitive and higher natures for which the world can often not account. They have had a forgotten experience, whose effects in part remain.
“And it was with these that our best work was done; unless when they dispatched them from their prison they wrought in them a gift. And then the task was well-nigh hopeless. For they felt the presence of the Godhead in themselves and were blinded by the mist. They longed for something higher to respond to themselves, and on the dull cramped earth could find nothing, because the gift had not come from us. But if they sought and strove to find the light we ne’er withheld from any, then they became our truest servants, and the gift given in hell came to heaven and distinguished good from evil as it were, and dwelt with us.
“The first souls that came to heaven capable of bearing life-forming seeds had undergone this pre-experience. They were few, very few, as you will understand, and not often those which the world would think would arrive there. They were the weak and helpless, the suffering and the patient, who had learnt from the past and present to stand what others could never tamely undergo. They needed above all the spirit of endurance, and all these things are wonderfully well learnt in hell—they are remembered even when forgotten, in the hour of need. My wife Ursula was one these. A noble spirit with great faults tamed in hell and sent again on to earth to suffer in the hour of need. She was one of our first children. I remember the great rejoicing when she was born, and how all gathered round to see a result which all had striven for from time scarce countable. And as I stooped to kiss the baby fingers I felt them clasp unconsciously around my own, and ever afterwards I stood by her through the great weakness and the after-strength that ends the long journey.
“But our progress on the earth was very slow. We had no bribes to offer, nothing to give but a purity and simplicity they could not understand. For, as you know, the earth is tawdry and gaudy, and the devils who tempted it understood its littleness and mediocrity well. And here you will understand that those tempting devils are not the great powers of Evil. I do not know that those great powers have ever once put temptation in the way of man. They punish and give pain, but for the rest, knowing well man’s nature, they leave things to his weakness and ignorance and the slave spirits that work to ruin him for their own ends. And man, left to himself, understands the powers of Evil no better than those of Good. By a remarkably whimsical reasoning, which is his chief characteristic, he put Evil one lower than Good, because somehow, by a very muddled yet ironically truthful process, he has come blindly to understand that Good will help and Evil hinder him. And as, with natural conceit, he imagined all things were made for him to pick and choose, he lauded his benefactor, and spoke of the Rival Power as inferior, and grovelling under a fairly long and loose chain of thraldom. But God is God, whether of Evil or of Good—like action and re-action—equal and opposite.
“I have said that we had nothing to offer humanity. The world did not belong to us, and therefore no pleasure nor greatness that it could give could come from us. But nobility and purity and strength of character had grown up even in this poor soil, as I have shown.
“And then at last the greatest riddle of all was solved—the riddle of human nature. You will perhaps think it was a ridiculously long time to have spent upon so simple a thing. The length of time and the simplicity are equal. We discovered if we were to act with humanity we must suffer with it, feel with it, be of it—in fact, take its nature upon ourselves. It was, or seemed to be, a step of utter humiliation and shame. I remember the time when the discovery was made—the silence that came after it. Before, we had always felt a certain amount of joy and triumph, but now that had gone. But because we had given the word of God to uplift humanity, it could not be broken, nor would we have wished to if we could. We wished to save and raise the many, not the few; and the word ‘impossible’ was unknown to us. The powers of Evil laughed, as well they might. This was the most exquisite jest of all. If we would drag humanity up to us we must first descend to it, not in condescension and superiority but in equality—not even that. But there could be no dallying nor shirking by delay. Our plan was now to see how the great work could be accomplished. It must be done secretly, the introduction of pure light and Godhead on to earth, or otherwise it would meet with ineffectual defeat, and the chance once lost would pass for ever. About this time there was born to me a daughter. She was our first-born child, and it seemed to my fond eyes I had never yet beheld anything so fair and lovely. I used to watch her as she played about the house, and she it was who drew me nearer to the earth—since she had sprung from it by much trial and tribulation.
“But as she grew the question grew, How to descend unknown to touch the nature of humanity.
“Then each spirit of heaven brought some pure essence of his own body, and the whole was compressed to a seed so small as to be near invisible. And it was this one seed that, coming from us and returning to us, made us at one, or seemingly at one, with man.
“The greatest of our sages then were gathered to see how this fine seed could be translated to the earth effectively and secretly, for its presence was traceable but to the blind. At last Michael counselled thus:—
“‘If we send it by one who is as innocent of its presence as of sin or harm we may expect success. None act so well as those free from all taint of deception and pre-arranged thought.’
“And the lot fell upon my daughter.
“She was but a tender spirit, not half formed in strength—never having taken the long journey that completes and perfects the strength to that of highest God. She had nothing but her own sweet graces and winning perfection of beauty; not a fit thing to be left alone in any place of danger. Moreover, she had had no experience of anything beyond our home, and all her days had been spent in singing about the house, and working, and studying such things as were suitable to her age and understanding.
“With no ostentation we saw her leave heaven and hover into space.
“As she had slept the night before we had placed the seed within her bosom, and she, unconscious, smiled and clasped my fingers in her hand as once her mother did when quite a child. We saw her go, and all heaven watched in silence, and she went smiling, not understanding why she went, but as some passing pleasure of the hour.
“Then there happened one of those unforeseen things that alter everything. By utter chance it happened that that day Vestasian had visited the earth, and as he flew up above the chain and mist he saw this lovely vision hovering there.
“He was surprised, no doubt, to see anything so weak and defenceless near that great battlefield. And she, not knowing friend from enemy, and feeling lonely in the great waste, drew towards him.
“And then began that which I told you of the other day. It was a case of hardness and strength trying to absorb softness and no strength—for that was what our daughter lacked. The only lasting and eternal strength within her was that which I had given, won from the earth. But at times, most curiously, there is strength in utter weakness, for Vestasian, acting on the impulse of the moment, despising and laughing at this weakness, caught her—and then was caught. For she had no strength to resist his all-absorbing strength; he no weakness with which to resist weakness. Almost within the instant they were joined—a union so perfect that it became imperfect, seeing it lacked one great element to keep the balance even. And so, in innocence, she went with him to hell; and at last the marriage had taken place, the one of which he spoke long since in jest. But as time went on, having on earth chosen Good and not Evil, and finding no principle of Good among these strangers she sickened, and at last died. All but those seeds of life and a frail skeleton of grace and beauty left her and passed to Vestasian, the only dowry she took to him—her life. Yet one thing she had hidden until the end—which only parted from her with her life—and that was our great secret, the seed of God to be imparted to humanity.
“And on the night she died and passed away from hell, drawn by the power of God again to heaven, she went with him to see the lost souls pray, and sang a song so sweet, so full of love and purity and light, that one would have thought the very walls might have melted into tears and gentleness. But not so those poor prisoners bound in darkness. They heard, yet could not hear, except for one tired, weary, worn-out soul whose term of prison life was over. He heard and soared with the last flicker of life towards the dying angel, and she, with that sweet thankfulness for trifles which always went with her, received this one as a gift most precious and clasped it to her bosom. The act was just in time, the mighty, hidden light she carried in her had passed beyond her feeble strength. From her it passed into the innermost cell of that soul cleansed by the fire of hell to an apparent newness.
“And Vestasian, blind with love, and blind with grief at the sad parting, which even he could scarcely understand, never noticed anything amiss, and let her return to me, who waited to carry her back to life and light. Then, as we passed the earth, we laid this soul, with its unconscious burden, within the lowly manger. Vestasian saw, yet saw not—neither did any of them at the time. And this pure Virgin Mother came back to heaven, and slept again the long, long sleep, and when she rose, refreshed and strengthened, stayed with us till she went again to him. And in the meantime, as the Saviour’s life advanced, they saw that we had solved their riddle, and recognised the part my daughter, Purity, had played in it.
“You remember well his life, of utter strength and utter weakness, the finest tragedy that e’er was played upon the earth.
“Surely then you yourself can read the rest. We, who had so humbled ourselves to send of our inmost being to the earth, were met with scoffs and laughter, misunderstood, and the outward sign of our presence, the body of Jesus, spat at and humbled to the very dust.
Several passages omitted
“When Jesus of Nazareth died, the Christ Spirit which was in him returned to us from whom it passed. It entered into us and brought us more in sympathy with Man, to understand him better, feel his suffering and temptation, a thing before almost unknown to us except in the abstract theory. But his soul was a thing as other souls, the seed properly sown from which mankind may rise to heaven. So his soul entered into the body of the spiritual father who had ever stood by him in silence, waiting the last sad gasp of pain. And now you see him, the heavenly likeness of that earthly substance, glorified and beautified and turned to God.
“And she, the Virgin Mother, still returns to hell, and when she carries souls away with her endows them with what graces lie in her power, which then is very feeble. And now they can no more suspect her, for the great seed has gone forth and returned, whatever its effects have been and are upon the earth.
“And now I have told you the story of the earth’s evolution as truthfully and as shortly as I can. To show you how it sprang from evil and not from good, to show how it was born in blind mystery and chains, the sport and cruel pastime of the Godhead, a mixture of jest and warfare, an intertwining of truth and error, so interlaced that each was truth and no truth, error and no error at a time. I could tell you more, but time is quickly gone and we must go. You have listened patiently. Would that others would do so too.” And here he ceased.
I had listened as one in an enchanted forest. Round us as he spoke the soft faint light had drawn as in a circle, its outer rims spreading in varied colours far out among the trees. From the deep lake near by came the legend song of the dying swan, filling the air with sadness. At times the nightingale warbled rich and full and then was silent, and the owl ever sent its eerie cry down the glades, sad and lonely, yet with no harsh note to break the saddened charm.
And so we went away, back through the forest to the silent city, and though it was night, and Nature’s darkness closed around it, I had never seen a more dazzling sight.