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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10051 ***
+
+                          THE LITTLE PILGRIM:
+
+                          Further Experiences
+
+                   By Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+THE LITTLE PILGRIM IN THE SEEN AND UNSEEN.
+
+
+The little Pilgrim, whose story has been told in another place, and who
+had arrived but lately on the other side, among those who know trouble
+and sorrow no more, was one whose heart was always full of pity for the
+suffering. And after the first rapture of her arrival, and of the blessed
+work which had been given to her to do, and all the wonderful things she
+had learned of the new life, there returned to her in the midst of her
+happiness so many questions and longing thoughts that They were touched
+by them who have the care of the younger brethren, the simple ones of
+heaven. These questions did not disturb her peace or joy, for she knew
+that which is so often veiled on earth,--that all is accomplished by the
+will of the Father, and that nothing can happen but according to His
+appointment and under His care. And she was also aware that the end
+is as the beginning to Him who knows all, and that nothing is lost that
+is in His hand. But though she would herself have willingly borne the
+sufferings of earth ten times over for the sake of all that was now hers,
+yet it pierced her soul to think of those who were struggling in
+darkness, and whose hearts were stifled within them by all the bitterness
+of the mortal life. Sometimes she would be ready to cry out with wonder
+that the Lord did not hasten His steps and go down again upon the earth
+to make all plain; or how the Father himself could restrain His power,
+and did not send down ten legions of angels to make all that was wrong
+right, and turn all that was mournful into joy.
+
+'It is but for a little time,' said her companions. 'When we have reached
+this place we remember no more the anguish.' 'But to them in their
+trouble it does not seem a little time,' the Pilgrim  said. And in her
+heart there rose a great longing. Oh that He would send me! that I might
+tell my brethren,--not like the poor man in the land of darkness, of the
+gloom and misery of that distant place, but a happier message, of the
+light and brightness of this, and how soon all pain would be over. She
+would not put this into a prayer, for she knew that to refuse a prayer
+is pain to the Father, if in His great glory any pain can be. And then
+she reasoned with herself and said, 'What can I tell them, except that
+all will soon be well? and this they know, for our Lord has said it; but
+I am like them, and I do not understand.'
+
+One fair morning while she turned over these thoughts in her mind there
+suddenly came towards her one whom she knew as a sage, of the number of
+those who know many mysteries and search into the deep things of the
+Father. For a moment she wondered if perhaps he came to reprove her for
+too many questionings, and rose up and advanced a little towards him with
+folded hands and a thankful heart, to receive the reproof if it should be
+so,--for whether it were praise or whether it were blame, it was from the
+Father, and a great honor and happiness to receive. But as he came
+towards her he smiled and bade her not to fear. 'I am come,' he said, 'to
+tell you some things you long to know, and to show you some things that
+are hidden to most. Little sister, you are not to be charged with any
+mission--'
+
+'Oh, no,' she said, 'oh, no. I was not so presuming--'
+
+'It is not presuming to wish to carry comfort to any soul; but it is
+permitted to me to open up to you, so far as I may, some of the secrets.
+The secrets of the Father are all beautiful, but there is sorrow in them
+as well as joy; and Pain, you know, is one of the great angels at the
+door.'
+
+'Is his name Pain? and I took him for Consolation!' the little Pilgrim
+said.
+
+'He is not Consolation; he is the schoolmaster whose face is often stern.
+But I did not come to tell you of him whom you know; I am going to take
+you--back,' the wise man said.
+
+'Back!' She knew what this meant, and a great pleasure, yet mingled with
+fear, came into her mind. She hesitated, and looked at him, and did not
+know how to accept, though she longed to do so, for at the same time she
+was afraid. He smiled when he saw the alarm in her face.
+
+'Do you think,' he said, 'that you are to go this journey on your own
+charges? Had you insisted, as some do, to go at all hazards, you might
+indeed have feared. And even now I cannot promise that you will not feel
+the thorns of the earth as you pass; but you will be cared for, so that
+no harm can come.'
+
+'Ah,' she said wistfully, 'it is not for harm--' and could say nothing
+more.
+
+He laid his hand upon her arm, and he said, 'Do not fear; though they see
+you not, it is yet sweet for a moment to be there, and as you pass, it
+brings thoughts of you to their minds.'
+
+For these two understood each other, and knew that to see and yet not be
+seen is only a pleasure for those who are most like the Father, and can
+love without thought of love in return.
+
+When he touched her, it seemed to the little Pilgrim suddenly that
+everything changed round her, and that she was no longer in her own
+place, but walking along a weary length of road. It was narrow and rough,
+and the skies were dim; and as she went on by the side of her guide she
+saw houses and gardens which were to her like the houses that children
+build, and the little gardens in which they sow seeds and plant flowers,
+and take them up again to see if they are growing. She turned to the
+Sage, saying, 'What are--?' and then stopped and gazed again, and burst
+out into something that was between laughing and tears. 'For it is home,'
+she cried, 'and I did not know it! dear home!' Her heart was remorseful,
+as if she had wounded the little diminished place.
+
+'This is what happens with those who have been living in the king's
+palaces,' he said with a smile.
+
+'But I love it dearly, I love it dearly!' the little Pilgrim said,
+stretching out her hands as if for pardon. He smiled at her, consoling
+her; and then his face changed and grew very grave.
+
+'Little sister,' he said, 'you have come not to see happiness but pain.
+We want no explanation of the joy, for that flows freely from the heart
+of the Father, and all is clear between us and Him; but that which you
+desire to know is why trouble should be. Therefore you must think of Him
+and be strong, for here is what will rend your heart.'
+
+The little Pilgrim was seized once more with mortal fear. 'O friend,' she
+cried, 'I have done with pain. Must I go and see others suffering and do
+nothing for them?'
+
+'If anything comes into your heart to do or say, it will be well for
+them,' the Sage replied: and he took her by the hand and led her into a
+house she knew. She began to know them all now, as her vision became
+accustomed to the atmosphere of the earth. She perceived that the sun was
+shining, though it had appeared so dim, and that it was a clear summer
+morning, very early, with still the colors of the dawn in the east. When
+she went indoors, at first she saw nothing, for the room was darkened,
+the windows all closed, and a miserable watch-light only burning. In the
+bed there lay a child whom she knew. She knew them all,--the mother at
+the bedside, the father near the door, even the nurse who was flitting
+about disturbing the silence. Her heart gave a great throb when she
+recognized them all; and though she had been glad for the first moment to
+think that she had come just in time to give welcome to a little brother
+stepping out of earth into the better country, a shadow of trouble and
+pain enveloped her when she saw the others and remembered and knew. For
+he was their beloved child; on all the earth there was nothing they held
+so dear. They would have given up their home and all they possessed, and
+become poor and homeless and wanderers with joy, if God, as they said,
+would have but spared their child. She saw into their hearts and read all
+this there; and knowing them, she knew it without even that insight.
+Everything they would have given up and rejoiced, if but they might have
+kept him. And there he lay, and was about to die. The little Pilgrim
+forgot all but the pity of it, and their hearts that were breaking, and
+the vacant place that was soon to be. She cried out aloud upon the Father
+with a great cry. She forgot that it was a grief to Him in His great
+glory to refuse.
+
+There came no reply; but the room grew light as with a reflection out of
+heaven, and the child in the bed, who had been moving restlessly in the
+weariness of ending life, turned his head towards her, and his eyes
+opened wide, and he saw her where she stood. He cried out, 'Look! mother,
+mother!' The mother, who was on her knees by the bedside, lifted her head
+and cried, 'What is it, what is it, O my darling?' and the father, who
+had turned away his face not to see the child die, came nearer to the
+bed, hoping they knew not what. Their faces were paler than the face of
+the dying, upon which there was light; but no light came to them out of
+the hidden heaven. 'Look! she has come for me,' he said; but his voice
+was so weak they could not hear him, nor take any comfort. At this the
+little Pilgrim put out her arms to him, forgetting in her joy the poor
+people who were mourning, and cried out, 'Oh, but I must go with him! I
+must take him home!' For this was her own work, and she thought of her
+wonderings and her questions no more.
+
+Some one touched her on the shoulder, and she looked round; and behind
+her was a great company of the dear children from the better country,
+whom the Father had sent, and not her,--lest he should grieve for those
+he had left behind,--to come for the child and show him the way. She
+paused for a moment, scarcely willing to give him up; but then her
+companion touched her and pointed to the other side. Ah, that was
+different! The mother lay by the side of the bed, her face turned only to
+the little white body which her child had dropped from him as he came out
+of his sickness,--her eyes wild with misery, without tears; her feverish
+mouth open, but no cry in it. The sword of the angel had gone through and
+through her. She did not even writhe upon it, but lay motionless, cut
+down, dumb with anguish. The father had turned round again and leaned his
+head upon the wall. All was over,--all over! The love and the hope of a
+dozen lovely years, the little sweet companion, the daily joy, the future
+trust--all--over--as if a child had never been born. Then there rose in
+the stillness a great and exceeding bitter cry, 'God!' that was all,
+pealing up to heaven, to the Father, whom they could not see in their
+anguish, accusing Him, reproaching Him who had done it. Was He their
+enemy that He had done it? No man was ever so wicked, ever so cruel but
+he would have spared them their boy,--taken everything and spared them
+their boy; but God, God! The little Pilgrim stood by and wept. She could
+do nothing but weep, weep, her heart aching with the pity and the
+anguish. How were they to be told that it was not God, but the Father;
+that God was only His common name, His name in law, and that He was the
+Father. This was all she could think of; she had not a word to say. And
+the boy had shaken his little bright soul out of the sickness and the
+weakness with such a look of delight! He knew in a moment! But they--oh,
+when, when would they know?
+
+Presently she sat outside in the soft breathing airs and little morning
+breezes, and dried her aching eyes. And the Sage who was her companion
+soothed her with kind words. 'I said you would feel the thorns as you
+passed,' he said. 'We cannot be free of them, we who are of mankind.'
+
+'But oh,' she cried amid her tears, 'why,--why? The air of the earth is
+in my eyes, I cannot see. Oh, what pain it is, what misery! Was it
+because they loved him too much, and that he drew their hearts away?'
+
+The Sage only shook his head at her, smiling. 'Can one love too much?' he
+said.
+
+'O brother, it is very hard to live and to see another--I am confused in
+my mind,' said the little Pilgrim, putting her hand to her eyes. 'The
+tears of those that weep have got into my soul. To live and see another
+die,--that was what I was saying; but the child lives like you and me.
+Tell me, for I am confused in my mind.'
+
+'Listen!' said the Sage; and when she listened she heard the sound of the
+children going back with a great murmur and ringing of pleasant voices
+like silver bells in the air, and among them the voice of the child
+asking a thousand questions, calling them by their names. The two
+pilgrims listened and laughed to each other for love at the sound of the
+children. 'Is it for the little brother that you are troubled?' the Sage
+said in her ear.
+
+Then she was ashamed, and turned from the joyful sounds that were
+ascending ever higher and higher to the little house that stood below,
+with all its windows closed upon the light. It was wrapped in darkness
+though the sun was shining, the windows closed as if they never would
+open more, and the people within turning their faces to the wall,
+covering their eyes that they might not see the light of day. 'O
+miserable day!' they were saying; 'O dark hour! O life that will never
+smile again!' She sat between earth and heaven, her eyes smiling, but her
+mouth beginning to quiver once more. 'Is it to raise their thoughts and
+their hearts?' she said.
+
+'Little sister,' said he, 'when the Father speaks to you, it is not for
+me nor for another that He speaks. And what He says to you is--' 'Ah,'
+said the little Pilgrim, with joy, 'it is for myself, myself alone! As if
+I were a great angel, as if I were a saint. It drops into my heart like
+the dew. It is what I need, not for you, though I love you, but for me
+only. It is my secret between me and Him.'
+
+Her companion bowed his head. 'It is so. And thus has He spoken to the
+little child. But what He said or why He said it, is not for you or me to
+know. It is His secret; it is between the little one and his Father. Who
+can interfere between these two? Many and many are there born on earth
+whose work and whose life are ordained elsewhere,--for there is no way of
+entrance into the race of man which is the nature of the Lord, but by the
+gates of birth; and the work which the Father has to do is so great and
+manifold that there are multitudes who do but pass through those gates to
+ascend to their work elsewhere. But the Father alone knows whom he has
+chosen. It is between the child and Him. It is their secret; it is as you
+have said.'
+
+The little Pilgrim was silent for a moment, but then turned her head from
+the bright shining of the skies and the voices of the children which
+floated farther and farther off, and looked at the house in which there
+was sorrow and despair. She pointed towards it, and looked at him who was
+her instructor, and had come to show her how these things were.
+
+'They are to blame,' he said; 'but none will blame them. The little life
+is hard. The Father, though He is very near, seems far off; and sometimes
+even His word is as a dream. It is to them as if they had lost their
+child. Can you not remember?--that was what we said. We have lost--'
+
+Then the little Pilgrim, musing, began to smile, but wept again as she
+thought of the father and the mother. 'If we were to go,' she said, 'hand
+in hand, you and I, and tell them that the Father had need of him, that
+it was not for the little life but for the great and beautiful world
+above that the child was born; and that he had got great promotion and
+was gone with the princes and the angels according as was ordained?
+And why should they mourn? Let us go and tell them--'
+
+He shook his head. 'They could not see us; they would not know us. We
+should be to them as dreams. If they do not take comfort from our Lord,
+how could they take comfort from you and me? We could not bring them back
+their child. They want their child, not only to know that all is well
+with him,--for they know that all is well with him,--but what they want
+is their child. They are to blame; but who shall blame them? Not any one
+that is born of woman. How can we tell them what is the Father's secret
+and the child's?'
+
+'And yet we could tell them why it must be so?' said the little Pilgrim.
+'For they prayed and besought the Lord. O brother, I have no
+understanding. For the Lord said, "Ask, and it shall be given you;" and
+they asked, yet they are refused.'
+
+'Little sister, the Father must judge between His children; and he must
+first be heard who is most concerned. While they were praying, the Father
+and the child talked together and said what we know not; but this we
+know, that his heart was satisfied with that which was said to him. Must
+not the Father do what is best for the child He loves, whatever the other
+children may say? Nay, did not our own fathers do this on earth, and we
+submitted to them; how much more He who sees all?'
+
+The little Pilgrim stole softly from his side when he had done speaking,
+and went back into the darkened house, and saw the mother where she sat
+weeping and refusing to be comforted, in her sorrow perceiving not heaven
+nor any consolation, nor understanding that her child had gone joyfully
+to his Father and her Father, as his soul had required, and as the Lord
+had willed. Yet though she had not joy but only anguish in her faith, and
+though her eyes were darkened that she could not see, yet the woman
+ceased not to call upon God, God, and to hold by Him who had smitten her.
+And the father of the child had gone into his chamber and shut the door,
+and sat dumb, opening not his mouth, thinking upon his delightsome boy,
+and how they had walked together and talked together, and should do so
+again nevermore. And in their hearts they reproached their God, the giver
+of all, and accused the Lord to His face, as if He had deceived them, yet
+clung to Him still, weeping and upbraiding, and would not let Him go. The
+little Pilgrim wept too, and said many things to them which they could
+not hear. But when she saw that though they were in darkness and misery,
+God was in all their thoughts, she bethought herself suddenly of what the
+poet had said in the celestial city, and of the songs he sang, which were
+a wonder to the Angels and Powers, of the little life and the sorrowful
+earth, where men endured all things, yet overcame by the name of the
+Lord. When this came into her mind, she rose up again softly with a
+sacred awe, and wept not, but did them reverence; for without any light
+or guidance in their anguish they yet wavered not, died not, but endured,
+and in the end would overcome. It seemed to her that she saw the great
+beautiful angels looking on, the great souls that are called to love and
+to serve, but not to suffer like the little brethren of the earth; and
+that among the princes of heaven there was reverence and awe, and even
+envy of those who thus had their garments bathed in blood, and suffered
+loss and pain and misery, yet never abandoned their life and the work
+that had been given them to do.
+
+As she came forth again comforted, she found the Sage standing with his
+face lifted to heaven, smiling still at the sound, though faint and
+distant, of the children all calling to each other and shouting together
+as they reached the gate. 'Oh, hush!' she said; 'let not the mother hear
+them! for it will make her heart more bitter to think she can never hear
+again her child's voice.'
+
+'But it is her child's voice,' he said; then very gently, 'they are to
+blame; but no one will be found to blame them either in earth or heaven.'
+
+The earth pilgrims went far after this, yet more softly than when they
+first left their beautiful country,--for then the little Pilgrim had been
+glad, believing that as all had been made clear to her in her own life,
+so that all that concerned the life of man should be made clear; but this
+was more hard and encompassed with pain and darkness, as that which is in
+the doing is always more hard to understand than that which is
+accomplished. And she learned now what she had not understood, though her
+companion warned her, how sharp are those thorns of earth that pierce the
+wayfarer's foot, and that those who come back cannot help but suffer
+because of love and fellow-feeling. And she learned that though she could
+smile and give thanks to the Father in the recollection of her own griefs
+that were past, yet those that are present are too poignant, and to look
+upon others in their hour of darkness makes His ways more hard to
+comprehend than even when the sorrow is your own.
+
+While she mused thus, there was suddenly revealed to her another sight.
+They had gone far before they came to this new scene. Night had crept
+over the skies all gray and dark; and the sea came in with a whisper
+which sounded to some like the hush of peace, and to some like the voice
+of sorrow and moaning, and to some was but the monotony of endless
+recurrence, in which was no soul. The skies were dark overhead, but
+opened with a clear shining of light which had no color, towards the
+west,--for the sun had long gone down, and it was night. The two
+travellers perceived a woman who came out of a house all lit with lamps
+and firelight, and took the lonely path towards the sea. And the little
+Pilgrim knew her, as she had known the father and mother in the darkened
+house, and would have joined her with a cry of pleasure; but she
+remembered that the friend could not see her or hear her, being wrapped
+still in the mortal body, and in a close enveloping mantle of thoughts
+and cares. The Sage made her a sign to follow, and these two tender
+companions accompanied her who saw them not, walking darkling by the
+silent way. The heart of the woman was heavy in her breast. It was so
+sore by reason of trouble, and for all the bitter wounds of the past, and
+all the fears that beset her life to come, that she walked, not weeping
+because of being beyond tears, but as it were bleeding, her thoughts
+being in her little way like those of His upon whose brow there once
+stood drops as it were of blood; and out of her heart there came a
+moaning which was without words. If words had been possible, they would
+have been as His also, who said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not
+what they do.' For those who had wounded her were those whom in all the
+world she loved most dear; and the quivering of anguish was in her as she
+walked, seeking the darkness and the silence, and to hide herself, if
+that might be, from her own thoughts. She went along the lonely path with
+the stinging of her wounds so keen and sharp that all her body and soul
+were as one pain. Greater grief hath no man than this, to be slain and
+tortured by those whom he loves. When her soul could speak, this was what
+it said 'Father, forgive them! Father, save them!' She had no strength
+for more.
+
+This the heavenly pilgrims saw,--for they stood by her as in their own
+country, where every thought is clear, and saw her heart. But as they
+followed her and looked into her soul--with their hearts, which were
+human too, wrung at the sight of hers in its anguish--there suddenly
+became visible before them a strange sight such as they had never seen
+before. It was like the rising of the sun; but it was not the sun.
+Suddenly into the heart upon which they looked there came a great silence
+and calm. There was nothing said that even they could hear, nor done that
+they could see; but for a moment the throbbing was stilled, and the
+anguish calmed, and there came a great peace. The woman in whom this
+wonder was wrought was astonished, as they were. She gave a low cry in
+the darkness for wonder that the pain had gone from her in an instant, in
+the twinkling of an eye. There was no promise made to her that her prayer
+would be granted, and no new light given to guide her for the time to
+come; but her pain was taken away. She stood hushed, and lifted her eyes;
+and the gray of the sea, and the low cloud that was like a canopy above,
+and the lightening of colorless light towards the west, entered with
+their great quiet into her heart. 'Is this the peace that passeth all
+understanding?' she said to herself, confused with the sudden calm. In
+all her life it had never so happened to her before,--to be healed of her
+grievous wounds, yet without cause; and while no change was wrought, yet
+to be put to rest.
+
+'It is our Brother,' said the little Pilgrim, shedding tears of joy. 'It
+is the secret of the Lord,' said the Sage; but not even they had seen Him
+passing by.
+
+They walked with her softly in the silence, in the sound of the sea, till
+the wonder in her was hushed like the pain, and talked with her, though
+she knew it not. For very soon questions arose in her heart. 'And oh,'
+she said, 'is this the Lord's reply?' with thankfulness and awe; but
+because she was human, and knew so little, and was full of impatience,
+'Oh, and is this _all_?' was what she next said. 'I asked for _them_, and
+Thou hast given to _me_--' then the voice of her heart grew louder, and
+she cried, with the sound of the pain coming back, 'I ask one thing, and
+Thou givest another. I asked no blessing for me. I asked for them, my
+Lord, my God. Give it to them--to them!' with disappointment rising in
+her heart. The little Pilgrim laid her hand upon the woman's arm,--for
+she was afraid lest our Lord might be displeased, forgetting (for she was
+still imperfect) that He sees all that is in the soul, and understands
+and takes no offence,--and said quickly, 'Oh, be not afraid; He will save
+them too. The blessing will come for them too.'
+
+'At His own time,' said the Sage, 'and in His own way.'
+
+These thoughts rose in the woman's soul. She did not know that they were
+said to her, nor who said them, but accepted them as if they had come
+from her own thoughts. For she said to herself, 'This is what is meant by
+the answer of prayer. It is not what we ask; yet what I ask is according
+to Thy will, my Lord. It is not riches, nor honors, nor beauty, nor
+health, nor long life, nor anything of this world. If I have been
+impatient, this is my punishment,--that the Lord has thought, not of
+them, but of me. But I can bear all, O my Lord! that and a thousand times
+more, if Thou wilt but think of them and not of me!'
+
+Nevertheless she returned to her home stilled and comforted; for though
+her trouble returned to her and was not changed, yet for a moment it
+had been lifted from her, and the peace which passeth all understanding
+had entered her heart.
+
+'But why, then,' said the little Pilgrim to her companion, when the
+friend was gone, 'why will not the Father give to her what she asks? for
+I know what it is. It is that those whom she loves should love Him and
+serve Him; and that is His will too, for He would have all love Him, He
+who loves all.'
+
+'Little sister,' said her companion, 'you asked me why He did not let the
+child remain upon the earth.'
+
+'Ah, but that is different,' she cried; 'oh, it is different! When you
+said that the secret was between the child and the Father I knew that
+it was so; for it is just that the Father should consider us first one
+by one, and do for us what is best. But it is always best to serve Him.
+It is best to love him; it is best to give up all the world and cleave
+to Him, and follow wherever He goes. No man can say otherwise than
+this,--that to follow the Lord and serve Him, that is well for all, and
+always the best!'
+
+She spoke so hotly and hastily that her companion could find no room for
+reply. But he was in no haste; he waited till she had said what was in
+her heart. Then he replied, 'If it were even so, if the Father heard all
+prayers, and put forth His hand and forced those who were far off to come
+near--'
+
+The little Pilgrim looked up with horror in her face, as if he had
+blasphemed, and said, 'Forced! not so; not so!'
+
+'Yet it must be so,' he said, 'if it is against their desire and will.'
+
+'Oh, not so; not so!' she cried, 'but that He should change their
+hearts.'
+
+'Yet that too against their will,' he said.
+
+The little Pilgrim paused upon the way; and her heart rose against her
+companion, who spoke things so hard to be received, and that seemed to
+dishonor the work of the Lord. But she remembered that it could not be
+so, and paused before she spoke, and looked up at him with eyes that were
+full of wonder and almost of fear. 'Then must they perish?' she said,
+'and must her heart break?' and her voice sank low for pity and sorrow.
+Though she was herself among the blessed, yet the thorns and briers of
+the earth caught at her garments and pierced her tender feet.
+
+'Little sister,' said the Sage, 'to us who are born of the earth it is
+hard to remember that the child belongs not first to the parents, nor the
+husband to the wife, nor the wife to the husband, but that all are the
+children of the Father. And He is just; He will not neglect the little
+one because of those prayers which the father and the mother pour forth
+to Him, although they cry with anguish and with tears. Nor will He break
+His great law and violate the nature He has made, and compel His own
+child to what it wills not and loves not. The woman is comforted in the
+breaking of her heart; but those whom she loves, are not they also the
+children of the Father, who loves them more than she does? And each is to
+Him as if there were not another in the world. Nor is there any other in
+the world,--for none can come between the Father and the child.'
+
+A smile came upon the little Pilgrim's face, yet she trembled. 'It is dim
+before me,' she said, 'and I cannot see clearly. Oh, if the time would
+but hasten, that our Lord might come, and all struggles be ended, and the
+darkness vanish away!'
+
+'He will come when all things are ready,' said the Sage; and as they went
+upon their way be showed her other sights, and the mysteries of the heart
+of man, and the great patience of our Lord.
+
+It happened to them suddenly to perceive in their way a man returning
+home. These are words that are sweet to all who have lived upon the earth
+and known its ways; but far, far were they from that meaning which is
+sweet. The dark hours had passed, and men had slept; and the night was
+over. The sun was rising in the sky, which was keen and clear with the
+pleasure of the morning. The air was fresh with the dew, and the birds
+awaking in the trees, and the breeze so sweet that it seemed to blow from
+heaven; and to the two travellers it seemed almost in the joy of the new
+day as if the Lord had already come. But here was one who proved that it
+was not so. He had not slept all the night, nor had night been silent to
+him nor dark, but full of glaring light and noise and riot; his eyes were
+red with fever and weariness, and his soul was sick within him, and the
+morning looked him in the face and upbraided him as a sister might have
+upbraided him, who loved him. And he said in his heart, as one had said
+of old, that all was vanity; that it was vain to live, and evil to have
+been born; that the day of death was better than the day of birth, and
+all was delusion, and love but a word, and life a lie. His footsteps on
+the road seemed to sound all through the sleeping world; and when he
+looked the morning in the face he was ashamed, and cursed the light. The
+two went after him into a silent house, where everybody slept. The light
+that had burned for him all night was sick like a guilty thing in the eye
+of day, and all that had been prepared for his repose was ghastly to him
+in the hour of awaking, as if prepared not for sleep but for death. His
+heart was sick like the watch-light, and life flickered within him with
+disgust and disappointment. For why had he been born, if this were
+all?--for all was vanity. The night and the day had been passed in
+pleasure, and it was vanity; and now his soul loathed his pleasures, yet
+he knew that was vanity too, and that next day he would resume them as
+before. All was vain,--the morning and the evening, and the spirit of man
+and the ways of human life. He looked himself in the face and loathed
+this dream of existence, and knew that it was naught. So much as it had
+cost to be born, to be fed, and guarded and taught and cared for, and all
+for this! He said to himself that it was better to die than to live, and
+never to have been than to be.
+
+As these spectators stood by with much pity and tenderness looking into
+the weariness and sickness of this soul, there began to be enacted before
+them a scene such as no man could have seen, which no one was aware of
+save he who was concerned, and which even to him was not clear in its
+meanings, but rather like a phantasmagoria, a thing of the mists; yet
+which was great and solemn as is the council of a king in which great
+things are debated for the welfare of the nations. The air seemed in a
+moment to be full of the sound of footsteps, and of something more
+subtle, which the Sage and the Pilgrim knew to be wings; and as they
+looked, there grew before them the semblance of a court of justice, with
+accusers and defenders; but the judge and the criminal were one. Then was
+put forth that indictment which he had been making up in his soul against
+life and against the world; and again another indictment which was
+against himself. And then the advocates began their pleadings. Voices
+were there great and eloquent, such as are familiar in the courts above,
+which sounded forth in the spectators' ears earnest as those who plead
+for life and death. And these speakers declared that sin only is vanity,
+that life is noble and love sweet, and every man made in the image of
+God, to serve both God and man; and they set forth their reasons before
+the judge and showed him mysteries of life and death; and they took up
+the counter-indictment and proved to him how in all the world he had
+sought but himself, his own pleasure and profit, his own will, not the
+will of God, nor even the good desire of humble nature, but only that
+which pleased his sick fancies and his self-loving heart. And they
+besought him with a thousand arguments to return and choose again the
+better way. 'Arise,' they cried, 'thou, miserable, and become great;
+arise, thou vain soul, and become noble. Take thy birthright, O son, and
+behold the face of the Father.' And then there came a whispering of lower
+voices, very penetrating and sweet, like the voices of women and
+children, who murmured and cried, 'O father! O brother! O love! O my
+child!' The man who was the accused, yet who was the judge, listened; and
+his heart burned, and a longing arose within him for the face of the
+Father and the better way. But then there came a clang and clamor of
+sound on the other side; and voices called out to him as comrade, as
+lover, as friend, and reminded him of the delights which once had been so
+sweet to him, and of the freedom he loved; and boasted the right of man
+to seek what was pleasant and what was sweet, and flouted him as a coward
+whose aim was to save himself, and scorned him as a believer in old
+wives' tales and superstitions that men had outgrown. And their voices
+were so vehement and full of passion that by times they mastered the
+others, so that it was as if a tempest raged round the soul which sat in
+the midst, and who was the offender and yet the judge of all.
+
+The two spectators watched the conflict, as those who watch the trial
+upon which hangs a man's life. It seemed to the little Pilgrim that she
+could not keep silent, and that there were things which she could tell
+him which no one knew but she. She put her hand upon the arm of the Sage
+and called to him, 'Speak you, speak you! he will hear you; and I too
+will speak, and he will not resist what we say.' But even as she said
+this, eager and straining against her companion's control, the strangest
+thing ensued. The man who was set there to judge himself and his life; he
+who was the criminal, yet august upon his seat, to weigh all and give the
+decision; he before whom all those great advocates were pleading,--a haze
+stole over his eyes. He was but a man, and he was weary, and subject to
+the sway of the little over the great, the moment over the life, which is
+the condition of man. While yet the judgment was not given or the issue
+decided, while still the pleadings were in his ears, in a moment his head
+dropped back upon his pillow, and he fell asleep. He slept like a child,
+as if there was no evil, nor conflict, nor danger, nor questions, more
+than how best to rest when you are weary, in all the world. And
+straightway all was silent in the place. Those who had been conducting
+this great cause departed to other courts and tribunals, having done all
+that was permitted them to do. And the man slept, and when it was noon
+woke and remembered no more.
+
+The Sage led the little Pilgrim forth in a great confusion, so that she
+could not speak for wonder. But he said, 'This sleep also was from the
+Father; for the mind of the man was weary, and not able to form a
+judgment. It is adjourned until a better day.'
+
+The little Pilgrim hung her head and cried, 'I do not understand. Will
+not the Lord interfere? Will not the Father make it clear to him? Is he
+the judge between good and evil? Is it all in his own hand?'
+
+The Sage spoke softly, as if with awe. He said, 'This is the burden of
+our nature, which is not like the angels. There is none in heaven or on
+earth that can take from him what is his right and great honor among the
+creatures of God. The Father respects that which He has made. He will
+force no child of His. And there is no haste with Him; nor has it ever
+been fathomed among us how long He will wait, or if there is any end. The
+air is full of the coming and going of those who plead before the sons of
+men; and sometimes in great misery and trouble there will be a cause won
+and a judgment recorded which makes the universe rejoice. And in
+everything at the end it is proved that our Lord's way is the best, and
+that all can be accomplished in His name.'
+
+The little Pilgrim went on her way in silence, knowing that the longing
+in her heart which was to compel them to come in, like that king who
+sent to gather his guests from the highways and the hedges, could not
+be right, since it was not the Father's way, yet confused in her soul,
+and full of an eager desire to go back and wake that man and tell him
+all that had been in her heart while she watched him sitting on his
+judgment-seat. But there came recollections wafted across her mind as by
+breezes of the past, of scenes in her earthly life when she had spoken
+without avail, when she had said all that was in her heart and failed,
+and done harm when she had meant to do good. And slowly it came upon her
+that her companion spoke the truth, and that no man can save his brother;
+but each must sit and hear the pleadings and pronounce that judgment
+which is for life or death. 'But oh,' she cried, 'how long and how bitter
+it is for those who love them, and must stand by and can give no aid!'
+
+Then her companion unfolded to her the patience of the Lord, and how He
+is not discouraged, nor ever weary, but opens His great assizes year by
+year and day by day; and how the cause was argued again, as she had seen
+it, before the souls of men, sometimes again and again and over and over,
+till the pleadings of the advocates carried conviction, and the judge
+perceived the truth and consented to it. He showed her that this was the
+great thing in human life, and that though it was not enough to make a
+man perfect, yet that he who sinned against his will was different from
+the man who sinned with his will; and how in all things the choice of the
+man for good or evil was all in all. And he led her about the world so
+that she could see how everywhere the heavenly advocates were travelling,
+entering into the secret places of the souls, and pleading with each man
+to his face. And the little Pilgrim looked on with pitying and tender
+eyes, and it seemed to her that the heart of the judge, before whom that
+great question was debated, leaned mostly to the right, and acknowledged
+that the way of the Lord was the best way; but either that sleep
+overpowered him and weariness, or the other voices deafened his ears, or
+something betrayed him that he forgot the reasons of the wise and the
+judgment of his own soul. At first it comforted her to see how something
+nobler in every man would answer to the pleadings; and then her heart
+failed her, to perceive that notwithstanding this the judge would leave
+his seat without a decision, and all would end in vanity. 'And oh,
+friend,' she cried, 'what shall be done to those who see and yet
+refuse?'--her heart being wrung by the disappointment and the failure.
+But her companion smiled still, and he said, 'They are the children of
+the Father. Can a woman forget her child that she should not have
+compassion on the son of her womb? She may forget; yet will not He
+forget.' And thus they went on and on.
+
+But time would not suffice to tell what these two pilgrims saw as they
+wandered among the ways of men. They saw poverty and misery and pain,
+which came of the evil which man had done upon the earth, and were his
+punishment, and could be cured by nothing but by the return of each to
+his Father, and the giving up of all self-worship and self-seeking and
+sin. But amid all the confusion and among those who had fallen the lowest
+they found not one who was forsaken, whose name the Father had forgotten,
+or who was not made to pause in his appointed moment, and to sit upon his
+throne and hear the pleadings before him of the great advocates of God,
+reasoning of temperance and righteousness and judgment to come.
+
+But once before they returned to their home, a great thing befell them;
+and they beheld that court sit, and the pleadings made, for the last time
+upon earth, which was a sight more solemn and terrible than anything they
+had yet seen. They found themselves in a chamber where sat a man who had
+lived long and known both good and evil, and fulfilled many great
+offices, so that he was famed and honored among men. He was a man who was
+wise in all the learning of the earth, standing but a little way below
+those who have begun the higher learning in the world beyond, and lifting
+up his head as if he would reach the stars. The travellers stood by him
+in his beautiful house, which was as the palace of wisdom, and saw him in
+the midst of all his honors. The lamps were lit within, and the night was
+sweet without, breathing of rest and happy ease, and riches and
+knowledge, as if they would endure forever. And the man looked round on
+all he had, and all he had achieved, and everything which he possessed,
+to enjoy it. For of wisdom and of glory he had his fill, and his soul was
+yet strong to take pleasure in what was his, and he looked around him
+like God, and said that everything was good; so that the little Pilgrim
+gazed, and wondered whether this could indeed be one of the brethren of
+the earth, or if he was one who had wandered hither from another sphere.
+
+But as the thought arose, she heard, and lo! the steps of the pleaders
+and the sound of their entry. They came slowly like a solemn procession,
+more grave and awful in their looks than any she had seen, for they were
+great and the greatest of all, such as come forth but rarely when the
+last word is to be said. The words they said were few; but they stood
+round him reminding him of all that had been, and of what must be, and of
+many things which were known but to God and him alone, and calling upon
+him yet once more before time should come to an end and life be lost. But
+the sound of their voices in his ear was but as some great strain of
+music which he had heard many times and knew and heeded not. He turned to
+the goods which he had laid up for many years, and all the knowledge he
+had stored, and said to himself, 'Soul, take thine ease.' And to the
+heavenly advocates he smiled and replied that life was strong and wisdom
+the master of all. Then there came a chill and a shiver over all, as if
+the earth had been stopped in her career or the sun fallen from the sky;
+and the little Pilgrim, looking on, could see the heavenly pleaders come
+forth with bowed heads and the door of hope shut to, and a whisper which
+crept about from sea to sea and said, 'In vain! in vain!' And as they
+went forth from the gates an icy breath swept in, and the voice of the
+Death-Angel saying, 'Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of
+thee!' The sound went through her heart as if it had been pierced by a
+sword, and she gave a cry of anguish, for she could not bear that a
+brother should be lost. But when she looked up at the face of her
+companion, though it was pale with the pity and the terror of that which
+had been thus accomplished, there was still upon it a smile; and he said,
+'Not yet; not yet. The Father loves not less, but more than ever.' 'O
+friend,' she cried, 'will there ever come a moment when the Father will
+forget? IS there any place where He cannot go?'
+
+Then he who was wise turned towards her, and a great light came upon his
+face; and he said, 'We have searched the records, and heard all witnesses
+from the beginnings of time; but we have never found the boundary of His
+mercy, and there is no country known to man that is without his presence.
+And never has it been known that He has shut His ear to those who called
+upon Him, or forgotten one who is His. The heavenly pleaders may be
+silenced, but never our Lord, who pleads for all; and heaven and earth
+may forget, yet will He never forget who is the Father of all. And every
+child of His is to Him as if there was none other in the world.'
+
+Then the little Pilgrim lifted her face and beheld that radiance which is
+over all, which is the love that lights the world, both angels and the
+great spheres above and the little brethren who stumble and struggle and
+weep; and in that light there was no darkness at all, but everything
+shone as in the morning, sweet yet terrible, but ever clear and fair. And
+immediately, ere she was aware, the rough roads of the earth were left
+far behind, and she had returned to her place, and to her peaceful state,
+and to the work which had been given her,--to receive the wanderers and
+to bid them a happy welcome as the doors opened and they entered into
+their inheritance. And thus her soul was satisfied, though she knew now
+nothing more than she had known always,--that the eye of the Father is
+over all, and that He can neither forget nor forsake.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+ON THE DARK MOUNTAINS.
+
+
+When the little Pilgrim had been thus permitted to see the secret
+workings of God in earthly places, and among the brethren who are still
+in the land of hope,--these being things which the angels desire to look
+into, and which are the subject of story and of song not only in the
+little world below, but in the great realms above,--her heart for a long
+time reposed and was satisfied, and asked no further question. For she
+had seen what the dealings of the Father were in the hearts of men, and
+how till the end came He did not cease to send His messengers to plead in
+every heart, and to hold a court of justice that no man might be
+deceived, but each know whither his steps were tending, and what was the
+way of wisdom. After this it was permitted to her to read in the archives
+of the heavenly country the story of one, who, neglecting all that the
+advocates of God could say, had found himself, when the little life was
+completed, not upon the threshold of a better country, but in the midst
+of the Land of Darkness,--that region in which the souls of men are left
+by God to their own devices, and the Father stands aloof, and hides His
+face and calls them not, neither persuades them more. Over this story the
+little Pilgrim had shed many tears; for she knew well, being enlightened
+in her great simplicity by the heavenly wisdom, that it was pain and
+grief to the Father to turn away His face; and that no one who has but
+the little heart of a man can imagine to himself what that sorrow is in
+the being of the great God. And a great awe came over her mind at the
+thought, which seemed well-nigh a blasphemy, that He could grieve; yet in
+her heart, being His child, she knew that it was true. And her own little
+spirit throbbed through and through with longing and with desire to help
+those who were thus utterly lost. 'And oh!' she said, 'if I could but go!
+There is nothing which could make a child afraid, save to see them
+suffer. What are darkness and terror when the Father is with you? I am
+not afraid--if I might but go!' And by reason of her often pleading, and
+of the thought that was ever in her mind, it was at last said that one of
+those who knew might instruct her, and show her by what way alone the
+travellers who come from that miserable land could approach and be
+admitted on high.
+
+'I know,' she said, 'that between us and them there is a gulf fixed, and
+that they who would come from thence cannot come, neither can any one--'
+
+But here she stopped in great dismay, for it seemed that she had thus
+answered her own longing and prayer.
+
+The guide who had come for her smiled upon her and said, 'But that was
+before the Lord had ended His work. And now all the paths are free
+wherever there is a mountain-pass or a river-ford; the roads are all
+blessed, and they are all open, and no barriers for those who will.'
+
+'Oh,' she cried, 'dear friend, is that true for all?'
+
+He looked away from her into the depths of the lovely air, and he
+replied: 'Little sister, our faith is without bounds, but not our
+knowledge. I who speak to you am no more than a man. The princes and
+powers that are in high places know more than I; but if there be any
+place where a heart can stir and cry out to the Father and He take no
+heed,--if it be only in a groan, if it be only with a sigh,--I know not
+that place, yet many depths I know.' He put out his hand and took hers
+after a pause; and then he said, 'There are some who are stumbling upon
+the dark mountains. Come and see.'
+
+As they passed along, there were many who paused to look at them, for
+he had the mien of a great prince, a lord among men; and his face still
+bore the trace of sorrow and toil, and there was about him an awe and
+wonder which was more than could be put in words. So that those who saw
+him understood as he went by, not who he was, nor what he had been, but
+that he had come out of great tribulation, of sorrow beyond the sorrows
+of men. The sweetness of the heavenly country had soothed away his
+care, and taken the cloud from his face; but he was as yet unaccustomed
+to smile,--though when he remembered and looked round him and saw that
+all was well, his countenance lightened like the morning sky, and his
+eyes woke up in splendor like the sun rising. The little Pilgrim did
+not know who her brother was, but yet gave thanks to God for him, she
+knew not why.
+
+How far they went cannot be estimated in words, for distance matters
+little in that place; but at the end they came to a path which sloped a
+little downwards to the edge of a delightful moorland country, all
+brilliant with the hues of the mountain flowers. It was like a flowery
+plateau high among the hills, in a region where are no frosts to check
+the glow of the flowers, or scorch the grass. It spread far around in
+hollows and ravines and softly swelling hills, with the rush over them of
+a cheerful breeze full of mountain scents and sounds; and high above them
+rose the mountain heights of the celestial world, veiled in those blue
+breadths of distance which are heaven itself when man's fancy ascends to
+them from the low world at their feet. All the little earth can do in
+color and mists, and travelling shadows fleet as the breath, and the
+sweet steadfast shining of the sun, was there, but with a ten-fold
+splendor. They rose up into the sky, every peak and jagged rock all
+touched with the light and the smile of God, and every little blossom on
+the turf rejoicing in the warmth and freedom and peace. The heart of the
+little Pilgrim swelled, and she cried out, 'There is nothing so glorious
+as the everlasting hills. Though the valleys and the plains are sweet,
+they are not like them. They say to us, lift up your heart!'
+
+Her guide smiled, but he did not speak. His smile was full of joy, but
+grave, like that of a man whose thoughts are bent on other things; and he
+pointed where the road wound downwards by the feet of these triumphant
+hills. She kept her eyes upon them as she moved along. Those heights rose
+into the very sky, but bore upon them neither snow nor storm. Here and
+there a whiteness like a film of air rounded out over a peak; and she
+recognized that it was one of those angels who travel far and wide with
+God's commissions, going to the other worlds that are in the firmament as
+in a sea. The softness of these films of white was like the summer clouds
+that she used to watch in the blue of the summer sky in the little world
+which none of its children can cease to love; and she wondered now
+whether it might not sometimes have been the same dear angels whose
+flight she had watched unknowing, higher than thought could soar or
+knowledge penetrate. Watching those floating heavenly messengers, and the
+heights of the great miraculous mountains rising up into the sky, the
+little Pilgrim ceased to think whither she was going, although she knew
+from the feeling of the ground under her feet that she was descending,
+still softly, but more quickly than at first, until she was brought to
+herself by the sensation of a great wind coming in her face, cold as from
+a sudden vacancy. She turned her head quickly from gazing above to what
+was before her, and started with a cry of wonder. For below lay a great
+gulf of darkness, out of which rose at first some shadowy peaks and
+shoulders of rock, all falling away into a gloom which eyes accustomed to
+the sunshine could not penetrate. Where she stood was the edge of the
+light,--before her feet lay a line of shadow slowly darkening out of
+daylight into twilight, and beyond into that measureless blackness of
+night; and the wind in her face was like that which comes from a great
+depth below of either sea or land,--the sweep of the current which moves
+a vast atmosphere in which there is nothing to break its force. The
+little Pilgrim was so startled by these unexpected sensations that she
+caught the arm of her guide in her sudden alarm, and clung to him, lest
+she should fall into the terrible darkness and the deep abyss below.
+
+'There is nothing to fear,' he said; 'there is a way. To us who are
+above there is no danger at all; and it is the way of life to those who
+are below.'
+
+'I see nothing,' she cried, 'save a few points of rock, and the
+precipice,--the pit which is below. Oh, tell me what is it? Is it where
+the fires are, and despair dwells? I did not think that was true. Let me
+go and hide myself and not see it, for I never thought that was true.'
+
+'Look again,' said the guide.
+
+The little Pilgrim shrank into a crevice of the rock, and uncovering her
+eyes, gazed into the darkness; and because her nature was soft and timid
+there came into her mind a momentary fear. Her heart flew to the Father's
+footstool, and cried out to Him, not any question or prayer, but only
+'Father, Father!' and this made her stand erect, and strengthened her
+eyes, so that the gloom even of hell could no more make her afraid. Her
+guide stood beside with a steadfast countenance, which was grave, yet
+full of a solemn light. And then all at once he lifted up his voice,
+which was sonorous and sweet like the sound of an organ, and uttered a
+shout so great and resounding that it seemed to come back in echoes from
+every hollow and hill. What he said the little Pilgrim could not
+understand; but when the echoes had died away and silence followed,
+something came up through the gloom,--a sound that was far, far away, and
+faint in the long distance; a voice that sounded no more than an echo.
+When he who had called out heard it, he turned to the little Pilgrim with
+eyes that were liquid with love and pity; 'Listen,' he said, 'there is
+some one on the way.'
+
+'Can we help them?' cried the little Pilgrim; her heart bounded forward
+like a bird. She had no fear. The darkness and the horrible way seemed as
+nothing to her. She stretched out her arms as if she would have seized
+the traveller and dragged him up into the light.
+
+He who was by her side shook his head, but with a smile. 'We can but
+wait,' he said. 'It is forbidden that any one should help; for this is
+too terrible and strange to be touched even by the hands of angels. It is
+like nothing that you know.'
+
+'I have been taught many things,' said the little Pilgrim, humbly. 'I
+have been taken back to the dear earth, where I saw the judgment-seat,
+and the pleaders who spoke, and the man who was the judge, and how each
+is judge for himself.'
+
+'You have seen the place of hope,' said her guide, 'where the Father is
+and the Son, and where no man is left to his own ways. But there is
+another country, where there is no voice either from God or from good
+spirits, and where those who have refused are left to do as seems good in
+their own eyes.'
+
+'I have read,' said the little Pilgrim, with a sob, 'of one who went from
+city to city and found no rest.'
+
+Her guide bowed his head very gravely in assent. 'They go from place to
+place,' he said, 'if haply they might find one in which it is possible to
+live. Whether it is order or whether it is license, it is according to
+their own will. They try all things, ever looking for something which the
+soul may endure. And new cities are founded from time to time, and a new
+endeavor ever and ever to live, only to live. For even when happiness
+fails and content, and work is vanity and effort is naught, it is
+something if a man can but endure to live.'
+
+The little Pilgrim looked at him with wistful eyes, for what he said was
+beyond her understanding. 'For us,' she said, 'life is nothing but joy.
+Oh, brother, is there then condemnation?'
+
+'It is no condemnation; it is what they have chosen,--it is to follow
+their own way. There is no longer any one to interfere. The pleaders are
+all silent; there is no voice in the heart. The Father hinders them not,
+nor helps them, but leaves them.' He shivered as if with cold; and the
+little Pilgrim felt that there breathed from the depths of darkness at
+their feet an icy wind which touched her hands and feet and chilled her
+heart. She shivered too, and drew close to the rock for shelter, and
+gazed at the awful cliffs rising out of the gloom, and the paths that
+disappeared at her feet, leading down, down into that abyss; and her
+heart failed within her to think that below there were souls that
+suffered, and that the Father and the Son were not there. He, the
+All-loving, the All-present,--how could it be that He was not there?
+
+'It is a mystery,' said the man who was her guide, and who answered to
+her thought. 'When I set my foot upon this blessed land I knew that
+there, even there, He is. But in that country His face is hidden, and
+even to name His name is anguish,--for then only do men understand what
+has befallen them, who can say that name no more.'
+
+'That is death indeed,' she cried; and the wind came up silent with a
+wild breath that was more awful than the shriek of a storm; for it was
+like the stifled utterances of all those miserable ones who have no voice
+to call upon God, and know not where He is nor how to pronounce His name.
+
+'Ah,' said he, 'if we could have known what death was! We had believed in
+death in the time of all great illusions, in the time of the gentle life,
+in the day of hope. But in the land of darkness there are no illusions;
+and every man knows that though he should fling himself into the furnace
+of the gold, or be cut to pieces by the knives, or trampled under the
+dancers' feet, yet that it will be but a little more pain, and that death
+is not, nor any escape that way.'
+
+'Oh, brother!' she cried, 'you have been there!'
+
+He turned and looked upon her; and she read as in a book things which
+tongue of man cannot say,--the anguish and the rapture, the
+unforgotten pang of the lost, the joy of one who has been delivered
+after hope was gone.
+
+'I have been there; and now I stand in the light, and have seen the face
+of the Lord, and can speak His blessed name.' And with that he burst
+forth into a great melodious cry, which was not like that which he had
+sent into the dark depths below, but mounted up like the sounding of
+silver trumpets and all joyful music, giving a voice to the sweet air and
+the fresh winds which blew about the hills of God. But the words he said
+were not comprehensible to his companion, for they were in the sweet
+tongue which is between the Father and His child, and known to none but
+to them alone. Yet only to hear the sound was enough to transport all who
+listened, and to make them know what joy is and peace. The little
+Pilgrim wept for happiness to hear her brother's voice; but in the midst
+of it her ear was caught by another sound,--a faint cry which tingled up
+from the darkness like a note of a muffled bell,--and she turned from the
+joy and the light, and flung out her arms and her little voice towards
+him who was stumbling upon the dark mountains. And 'Come,' she cried,
+'come, come!' forgetting all things save that one was there in the
+darkness, while here was light and peace.
+
+'It is nearer,' said her guide, hearing, even in the midst of his triumph
+song, that faint and distant cry; and he took her hand and drew her back,
+for she was upon the edge of the precipice, gazing into the black depths,
+which revealed nothing save the needles of the awful rocks and sheer
+descents below. 'The moment will come,' he said, 'when we can help; but
+it is not yet.'
+
+Her heart was in the depths with him who was coming, whom she knew not
+save that he was coming, toiling upwards towards the light; and it seemed
+to her that she could not contain herself, nor wait till he should
+appear, nor draw back from the edge, where she might hold out her hands
+to him and save him some single step, if no more. But presently her heart
+returned to her brother who stood by her side, and who was delivered,
+and with whom it was meet that all should rejoice, since he had fought
+and conquered, and reached the land of light. 'Oh,' she said, 'it is long
+to wait while he is still upon these dark mountains. Tell me how it came
+to you to find the way.'
+
+He turned to her with a smile, though his ear too was intent, and his
+heart fixed upon the traveller in the darkness, and began to tell her his
+tale to beguile the time of waiting, and to hold within bounds the pity
+that filled her heart. He told her that he was one of many who came from
+the pleasant earth together, out of many countries and tongues; and how
+they had gone here and there each man to a different city; and how they
+had crossed each other's paths coming and going, yet never found rest for
+their feet; and how there was a little relief in every change, and one
+sought that which another left; and how they wandered round and round
+over all the vast and endless plain, until at length in revolt from every
+other way, they had chosen a spot upon the slope of a hill, and built
+there a new city, if perhaps something better might be found there; and
+how it had been built with towers and high walls, and great gates to shut
+it in, so that no stranger should find entrance; and how every house was
+a palace, with statues of marble, and pillars so precious with beautiful
+work, and arches so lofty and so fair that they were better than had they
+been made of gold,--yet gold was not wanting, nor diamond stones that
+shone like stars, and everything more beautiful and stately than heart
+could conceive.
+
+'And while we built and labored,' he said, 'our hearts were a little
+appeased. And it was called the city of Art, and all was perfect in it,
+so that nothing had ever been seen to compare with it for beauty; and we
+walked upon the battlements and looked over the plain and viewed the
+dwellers there, who were not as we. And we went on to fill every room and
+every hall with carved work in stone and beaten gold, and pictures and
+woven tissues that were like the sun-gleams and the rainbows of the
+pleasant earth. And crowds came around envying us and seeking to enter;
+but we closed our gates and drove them away. And it was said among us
+that life would now become as of old, and everything would go well with
+us as in the happy days.'
+
+The little Pilgrim looked up into his face, and for pity of his pain
+(though it was past) almost wished that _that_ could have come true.
+
+'But when the work was done,' he said, and for a moment no more.
+
+'Oh, brother! when the work was done?' 'You do not know what it is,' he
+said, 'to be ten times more powerful and strong, to want no rest, to have
+fire in your veins, to have the craving in your heart above everything
+that is known to man. When the work was done, we glared upon each other
+with hungry eyes, and each man wished to thrust forth his neighbor and
+possess all to himself. And then we ceased to take pleasure in it,
+notwithstanding that it was beautiful; and there were some who would have
+beaten down the walls and built them anew; and some would have torn up
+the silver and gold, and tossed out the fair statues and the adornments
+in scorn and rage to the meaner multitudes below. And we who were the
+workers began to contend one against another to satisfy the gnawings of
+the rage that was in our hearts. For we had deceived ourselves, thinking
+once more that all would be well; while all the time nothing was changed,
+and we were but as the miserable ones that rushed from place to place.'
+
+Though all this wretchedness was over and past, it was so terrible to
+think of that he paused and was silent awhile. And the little Pilgrim
+put her hand upon his arm in her great pity, to soothe him, and almost
+forgot that there was another traveller not yet delivered upon the way.
+But suddenly at that moment there came up through the depths the sound of
+a fall, as if the rocks had crashed from a hundred peaks, yet all muffled
+by the great distance, and echoing all around in faint echoes, and
+rumblings as in the bosom of the earth; and mingled with them were
+far-off cries, so faint and distant that human ears could not have heard
+them, like the cries of lost children, or creatures wavering and straying
+in the midst of the boundless night. This time she who was watching upon
+the edge of the gloom would have flung herself forward altogether into
+it, had not her companion again restrained her. 'One has stumbled upon
+the mountains; but listen, listen, little sister, for the voices are
+many,' he said. 'It is not one who comes, but many; and though he falls
+he will rise again.' And once more he shouted aloud, bending down against
+the rocks, so that they caught his voice; and the sweet air from the
+skies came behind him in a great gust like a summer storm, and carried it
+into all the echoing hollows of the hills. And the little Pilgrim knew
+that he shouted to all who came to take courage and not to fear. And
+this time there rose upwards many faint and wavering sounds that did not
+stir the air, but made it tingle with a vibration of the great distance
+and the unknown depths; and then again all was still. They stood for a
+time intent upon the great silence and darkness which swept up all sight
+and sound, and then the little Pilgrim once more turned her eyes towards
+her companion, and he began again his wonderful tale.
+
+'He who had been the first to found the city, and who was the most wise
+of any, though the rage was in him like all the rest, and the
+disappointment and the anguish, yet would not yield. And he called upon
+us for another trial, to make a picture which should be the greatest that
+ever was painted; and each one of us, small or great, who had been of
+that art in the dear life, took share in the rivalry and the emulation,
+so that on every side there was a fury and a rush, each man with his band
+of supporters about him struggling and swearing that his was the best.
+Not that they loved the work or the beauty of the work, but to keep down
+the gnawing in their hearts, and to have something for which they could
+still fight and storm, and for a little forget.'
+
+'I was one who had been among the highest.' He spoke not with pride, but
+in a low and deep voice which went to the heart of the listener, and
+brought the tears to her eyes. It was not like that of the painter in the
+heavenly city, who rejoiced and was glad in his work, though he was but
+as a humble workman, serving those who were more great. But this man had
+the sorrow of greatness in him, and the wonder of those who can do much,
+to find how little they can do. 'My veins,' he said, 'were filled with
+fire, and my heart with the rage of a great desire to be first, as I had
+been first in the days of the gentle life. And I made my plan to be
+greater than all the rest, to paint a vast picture like the world, filled
+with all the glories of life. In a moment I had conceived what I should
+do, for my strength was as that of a hundred men; and none of us could
+rest or breathe till it was accomplished, but flung ourselves upon this
+new thing as upon water in the desert. Oh, my little sister, how can I
+tell you; what words can show forth this wonderful thing? I stood before
+my great canvas with all those who were of my faction pressing upon me,
+noting every touch I made, shouting, and saying, "He will win! he will
+win!" when lo! there came a mystery and a wonder into that place. I had
+arranged men and women before me according to all the devices of art, to
+serve as my models, that nature might be in my picture, and life; but
+when I looked I saw them not, for between them and me had come a Face.'
+
+The eyes of the little Pilgrim dropped with tears. She held out her hands
+towards him with a sympathy which no words could say.
+
+'Often had I painted that Face in the other life, sometimes with awe and
+love, sometimes with scorn,--for hire and for bread, and for pride and
+for fame. It is pale with suffering, yet smiles; the eyes have tears in
+them, yet light below, and all that is there is full of tenderness and of
+love. There is a crown upon the brow, but it is made of thorns. It came
+before me suddenly, while I stood there, with the men shouting close to
+my ear urging me on, and fierce fury in my heart, and the rage to be
+first, and to forget. Where my models were, there it came. I could not
+see them, nor my groups that I had planned, nor anything but that Face. I
+called out to my men. "Who has done this?" but they heard me not, nor
+understood me, for to them there was nothing there save the figures I had
+set,--a living picture all ready for the painter's hand.
+
+'I could not bear it, the sight of that Face. I flung my tools away; I
+covered my eyes with my hands. But those who were about me pressed on me
+and threatened; they pulled my hands from my eyes. "Coward!" they cried,
+and "Traitor, to leave us in the lurch! Now will the other side win and
+we be shamed. Rather tear him limb from limb, fling him from the walls!"
+The crowd came round me like an angry sea; they forced my pencils back
+into my hands. "Work," they cried, "or we will tear you limb from limb."
+For though they were upon my side, it was for rivalry, and not out of any
+love for me.' He paused for a moment, for his heart was yet full of the
+remembrance, and of joy that it was past.
+
+'I looked again,' he said, 'and still it was there. O Face divine,--the
+eyes all wet with pity, the lips all quivering with love! And neither
+pity nor love belonged to that place, nor any succor, nor the touch of a
+brother, nor the voice of a friend. "Paint," they cried, "or we will tear
+you limb from limb!" and fire came into my heart. I pushed them from me
+on every side with the strength of a giant. And then I flung it on the
+canvas, crying I know not what,--not to them, but to Him. Shrink not from
+me, little sister, for I blasphemed. I called Him Impostor, Deceiver,
+Galilean; and still with all my might, with all the fury of my soul, I
+set Him there for every man to see, not knowing what I did. Everything
+faded from me but that Face; I saw it alone. The crowd came round me with
+shouts and threats to drag me away but I took no heed. They were
+silenced, and fled and left me alone, but I knew nothing; nor when they
+came back with others and seized me, and flung me forth from the gates,
+was I aware what I had done. They cast me out and left me upon the wild
+without a shelter, without a companion, storming and raving at them as
+they did at me. They dashed the great gates behind me with a clang, and
+shut me out. And I turned and defied them, and cursed them as they cursed
+me, not knowing what I had done.'
+
+'Oh, brother!' murmured the little Pilgrim, kneeling, as if she had
+accompanied him all the way with her prayers, but could not now say more.
+
+'Then I saw again,' he went on, not hearing her in the great force of
+that passion and wonder which was still in his mind, 'that vision in the
+air. Wherever I turned, it was there,--His eyes wet with pity, His
+countenance shining with love. Whence came He? What did He in that place,
+where love is not, where pity comes not?'
+
+'Friend,' she cried, 'to seek you there!'
+
+Her companion bowed his head in deep humbleness and joy. And again he
+lifted his great voice and intoned his song of praise. The little Pilgrim
+understood it, but by fragments,--a line that was more simple that came
+here and there. And it praised the Lord that where the face of the Father
+was hidden; and where love was not, nor compassion, nor brother had pity
+on brother, nor friend knew the face of friend; and all succor was
+stayed, and every help forbidden,--yet still in the depths of the
+darkness and in the heart of the silence, He who could not forget nor
+forsake was there. The voice of the singer was like that of one of the
+great angels, and many of the inhabitants of the blessed country began to
+appear, gathering in crowds to hear this great music, as the little
+sister thought; and she herself listened with all her heart, wondering
+and seeing on the faces of those dear friends whom she did not know an
+expectation and a hope which were strange to her, though she could always
+understand their love and their joy.
+
+But in the middle of this great song there came again another sound to
+her ear,--a sound which pierced through the music like lightning through
+the sky, though it was but the cry of one distraught and fainting; a cry
+out of the depths not even seeking help, a cry of distress too terrible
+to be borne. Though it was scarcely louder than a sigh, she heard it
+through all the music, and turned and flew to the edge of the precipice
+whence it came. And immediately the darkness seemed to move as with a
+pulse in a great throb, and something came through the wind with a rush,
+as if part of the mountain had fallen--and lo! at her feet lay one who
+had flung himself forward, his arms stretched out, his face to the
+ground, as if he had seized and grasped in an agony the very soil. He lay
+there, half in the light and half in the shadow, gripping the rocks with
+his hands, burrowing into the cool herbage above and the mountain
+flowers; clinging, catching hold, despairing, yet seizing everything he
+could grasp,--the tender grass, the rolling stones. The little Pilgrim
+flung herself down upon her knees by his side, and grasped his arm to
+help, and cried aloud for aid; and the song of the singer ceased, and
+there was silence for a moment, so that the breath of the fugitive could
+be heard panting, and his strong struggle to drag himself altogether out
+of that abyss of darkness below. She thought of nothing, nor heard nor
+saw anything but the strain of that last effort which seemed to shake
+the very mountains; until suddenly there seemed to rise all around the
+hum and murmur as of a great multitude, and looking up, she saw every
+little hill and hollow, and the glorious plain beyond as far as eye could
+see, crowded with countless throngs; and on the high peaks above, in the
+full shining of the sun, came bands of angels, and of those great beings
+who are more mighty than men. And the eyes of all were fixed upon the man
+who lay as one dead upon the ground, and from the lips of all came a low
+murmur of rapture and delight, that spread like the hum of the bees, like
+the cooing of the doves, like the voice of a mother over her child; and
+the same sound came to her own lips unawares, and she murmured 'welcome'
+and 'brother' and 'friend,' not knowing what she said; and looking to the
+others, whispered, 'Hush! for he is weak'--and all of them answered with
+tears, with 'hush' and 'welcome' and 'friend' and 'brother' and
+'beloved,' and stood smiling and weeping for joy. And presently there
+came softly into the blessed air the ringing of the great silver bells,
+which sound only for victory and great happiness and gain. And there was
+joy in heaven; and every world was stirred. And throughout the firmament,
+and among all the lords and princes of life, it was known that the
+impossible had become true, and the name of the Lord had proved
+enough, and love had conquered even despair.
+
+'Hush!' she said, 'for he is weak.' And because it was her blessed
+service to receive those who had newly arrived in that heavenly country,
+and to soothe and help them so that like newborn children they should be
+able to endure and understand the joy, she knelt by him on the ground
+and tried to rouse him, though with trembling, for never before had she
+stood by one who was newly come out of the land of despair. 'Let the sun
+come upon him,' she said; 'let him feel the brightness of the
+light,'--and with her soft hands she drew him out of the shade of the
+twilight to where the brightness of the day fell like a smile upon the
+flowers. And then at last he stirred, and turned round and opened his
+eyes, for the genial warmth had reached him. But his eyes were heavy and
+dazzled with the light; and he looked round him as if confused from
+beneath his heavy eyelids. 'And where am I?' he said; 'and who are you?'
+'Oh, brother!' said the little Pilgrim, and told him in his ear the name
+of that heavenly place, and many comforting and joyful things. But he
+understood her not, and still gazed about him with dazzled eyes, for his
+face was still towards the darkness, and fear was upon him lest this
+place should prove no more than a delusion, and the darkness return, and
+the anguish and pain.
+
+Then he who had been her guide, and told her his tale, came forward and
+stood by the side of the newly come. And 'Brother,' he said, 'look upon
+me, for you know me, and know from whence I come.'
+
+The stranger looked dimly with his heavy eyes. And he replied, 'It is as
+a dream that I know you, and know from whence you came. And the dream is
+sweet to lie here, and think that I am at peace. Deceive me not, oh!
+deceive me not with dreams that are sweet; but let me go upon my way and
+find the end, if there is any end, or if any good can be.'
+
+'What shall we do,' cried the little Pilgrim, 'to persuade him that he
+has arrived and is safe, and dreams no more?'
+
+And they stood round him wondering, and troubled to find how little they
+could do for him, and that the light entered so slowly into his soul. And
+he lay on the bank like one left for death, so weary and so worn with
+all the horrors of the way that his heart was faint within him, and peace
+itself seemed to him but an illusion. He lay silent while they watched
+and waited, then turned himself upon the grass, which was as soft to the
+weary wayfarer as angels' wings; and then the sunshine caught his eye, as
+if he had been a newborn babe awakened to the light. He put out his hand
+to it, and touched the ground that was golden with those heavenly rays,
+and gathered himself up till he felt it upon his face, and opened wide
+his dazzled eyes, then shaded them with trembling hands, and said to
+himself, 'It is the sun; it is the sun!' But still he did not dare to
+believe that the danger and the toil were over, nor could he listen, nor
+understand what the brethren said. While they all stood around and
+watched and waited, wondering each how the new-comer should be satisfied,
+there suddenly arose a sound with which they were all acquainted,--the
+sound of One approaching. The faces of the blessed were all around like
+the stars in the sky,--multitudes whom none could count or reckon; but He
+who came was seen of none, save him to whom He came. The weary man rose
+up with a great cry, then fell again upon his knees, and flung his arms
+wide in the wonder and the joy. And 'Lord,' he cried, 'was it Thou?
+Lord, it was Thou! Thine was the face. And Thou hast brought me here!'
+
+The watchers knew not what the other voice said, for what is said to each
+new-comer is the secret of the Lord. But when they looked again, the man
+stood upright upon his feet, and his face was full of light; and though
+he trembled with weakness and with weariness, and with exceeding joy, yet
+the confusion and the fear were gone from him. And he had no longer any
+suspicion of them, as if they might betray him, but held out his
+trembling hands and cried, 'Friends,--you are friends? and you spoke to
+me and called me brother? And am I here? And am I here?' For to name the
+name of that blessed country was not needful any longer, now that he had
+seen the Lord.
+
+Then a great band and guard of honor, of angels and principalities and
+powers, surrounded him, and led him away to the holy city, and to the
+presence of the Father, who had permitted and had not forbidden what the
+Lord had done. And all the companies of the blessed followed after with
+wonder and gladness and triumph, because the great love of the Lord had
+drawn out of the darkness even those who were beyond hope.
+
+The little Pilgrim saw them depart from her with love and joy, and sat
+down upon the rocky edge and sang her own song of peace; for her fear was
+gone, and she was ready to do her service there upon the verge of the
+precipice as among the flowers and the sunshine, where her own place was.
+'From the depths,' she said, 'they come, they come!--from the land of
+darkness, where no love is. For Thy love, O Lord, is more than the
+darkness and the depths. And where hope is not, there Thy pity goes.' She
+sat and sang to herself like a happy child, for her heart had fathomed
+the awful gloom which baffles angels and men; and she had learned that
+though hope comes to an end and light fails, and the feet of the
+ambassadors are stayed on the mountains, and the voice of the pleaders is
+silenced, and darkness swallows up the world, yet Love never fails. As
+she sang, the pity in her heart grew so strong, and her desire to help
+the lost, that she rose up and stepped forth into the awful gloom, and
+had it been permitted, in her gentleness and weakness would have gone
+forth to the deeps and had no fear.
+
+The ground gave way under her feet, so dreadful was the precipice; but
+though her heart beat with the horror of it, and the whirl of the descent
+and the darkness which blinded her eyes, yet had she no hurt. And when
+her foot touched the rock, and that sinking sense of emptiness and
+vacancy ceased, she looked around and saw the path by which that
+traveller had come. For when the eyes are used to the darkness, the
+horror of the gloom was no longer like a solid thing, but moved into
+shades of darker and less dark, so that she saw where the rocks stood,
+and how they sank with edges that cut like swords down and ever down into
+the abysses; and how here a deep ravine was rent between them, and there
+were breaks and scars as though some one had caught the jagged points
+with wounded hand or foot, struggling up the perpendicular surface
+towards the little ray of light, like a tiny star which shone as on
+immeasurable heights to show where life was. As she travelled deeper and
+deeper, it was a wonder to see how far that little ray penetrated down
+and down through gulfs of darkness, blue and cold like the shimmer of a
+diamond, and even when it could be seen no more, sent yet a shadowy
+refraction, a line of something less black than the darkness, a
+lightening amid the gloom, a something indefinable which was hope. The
+rocks were more cruel than imagination could conceive,--sometimes pointed
+and sharp like knives, sometimes smooth and upright as a wall with no
+hold for the climber, sometimes moving under the touch, with stones that
+rolled and crushed the bleeding feet; and though the solid masses were
+distinguishable from the lighter darkness of the air, yet it could only
+be in groping that the travellers by that way could find where any
+foothold was. The traveller who came from above, and who had the
+privilege of her happiness, sank down as if borne on wings, yet needed
+all her courage not to be afraid of the awful rocks that rose all above
+and around her, perpendicular in the gloom. And the great blast of an icy
+wind swept upwards like something flying upon great wings, so tremendous
+was the force of it, whirling from the depths below, sucked upwards by
+the very warmth of the life above; so that the little Pilgrim herself
+caught at the rocks that she might not be swept again towards the top, or
+dashed against the stony pinnacles that stood up on every side. She was
+glad when she found a little platform under her feet for a moment where
+she could rest, and also because she had come, not from curiosity to see
+that gulf, but with the hope and desire to meet some one to whom she
+could be of a little comfort or help in the terrors of the way.
+
+While she stood for a moment to get her breath, she became sensible that
+some living thing was near; and putting out her hand she felt that there
+was round her something that was like a bastion upon a fortified wall,
+and immediately a hand touched hers, and a soft voice said, 'Sister, fear
+not! for this is the watch-tower, and I am one of those who keep the
+way.' She had started and trembled indeed, not that she feared, but
+because the delicate fabric of her being was such that every movement of
+the wind, and even those that were instinctive and belonged to the habits
+of another life, betrayed themselves in her. And 'Oh,' she said, 'I knew
+not that there were any watch-towers, or any one to help, but came
+because my heart called me, if perhaps I might hold out my hand in the
+darkness, and be of use where there was no light.'
+
+'Come and stand by me,' said the watcher; and the little Pilgrim saw that
+there was a whiteness near to her, out of which slowly shaped the face of
+a fair and tender woman, whom she knew not, but loved. And though they
+could scarcely see each other, yet they knew each other for sisters, and
+kissed and took comfort together, holding each other's hands in the midst
+of the awful gloom. And the little Pilgrim questioned in low and hushed
+tones, 'Is it to help that you are here?'
+
+'To help when that may be; but rather to watch, and to send the news and
+make it known that one is coming, that the bells of joy may be sounded,
+and all the blessed may rejoice.'
+
+'Oh,' said the little Pilgrim, 'tell me your name, that I may do you
+honor,--for to gain such high promotion can be given only to the great
+who are made perfect, and to those who love most.'
+
+'I am not great,' said the watcher; 'but the Lord, who considers all, has
+placed me here, that I may be the first to see when one comes who is in
+the dark places below. And also because there are some who say that love
+is idolatry, and that the Father will not have us long for our own,
+therefore am I permitted to wait and watch and think the time not long
+for the love I bear him. For he is mine; and when he comes I will ascend
+with him to the dear country of the light, and some other who loves
+enough will be promoted in my place.'
+
+'I am not worthy,' said the little Pilgrim. 'It is a great promotion;
+but oh, that we might be permitted to help, to put out a hand, or to
+clear the way!'
+
+'Nay, my little sister,' said the watcher, 'but patience must have its
+perfect work; and for those who are coming help is secret. They must not
+see it nor know it, for the land of darkness is beyond hope. The Father
+will not force the will of any creature He has made, for He respects us
+in our nature, which is His image. And when a man will not, and will not
+till the day is over, what can be done for him? He is left to his will,
+and is permitted to do it as it seems good in his eyes. A man's will is
+great, for it is the gift of God. But the Lord, who cannot rest while one
+is miserable, still goes secretly to them, for His heart yearns after
+them. And by times they will see His face, or some thought of old will
+seize upon them. And some will say, "To perish upon the dark mountains is
+better than to live here." And I have seen,' said the watcher, 'that the
+Lord will go with them all the way--but secretly, so that they cannot see
+Him. And though it grieves His heart not to help, yet will He not,--for
+they have become the creatures of their own will, and by that must they
+attain.' She put out her hand to the new-comer and drew her to the side
+of the rocky wall, so that they felt the sweep of the wind in their
+faces; but were not driven before it. 'And come,' she said, 'for two of
+us together will be like a great light to those who are in the darkness.
+They will see us like a lamp, and it will cheer them, though they know
+not why we are here. Listen!' she cried. And the little Pilgrim, holding
+fast the hand of the watcher, listened and looked down upon the awful
+way; and underneath the sweep of the icy wind was a small sharp sound as
+of a stone rolling or a needle of rock that broke and fell, like the
+sounds that are in a wood when some creature moves, though too far off
+for footstep to sound. 'Listen!' said the watcher; and her face so shone
+with joy that the little Pilgrim saw it clearly, like the shining of the
+morning in the midst of the darkness. 'He comes!'
+
+'Oh, sister!' she cried, 'is it he whom you love above all the rest?
+Is it he?'
+
+The watcher smiled and said, 'If it is not he, yet is it a brother; if
+it is not he now, yet his time will come. And in every one who passes, I
+hope to see his face; and the more that come, the more certain it is
+that he will come. And the time seems not long for the love I bear him.
+And it is for this that the Lord has so considered me. Listen! for some
+one comes.'
+
+And there came to these watchers the strangest sight; for there flew past
+them while they gazed a man who seemed to be carried upon the sweep of
+the wind. In the midst of the darkness they could see the faint white in
+his face, with eyes of flame and lips set firm, whirled forward upon the
+wind, which would have dashed him against the rocks; but as he whirled
+past, he caught with his hand the needles of the opposite peaks, and was
+swung high over a great chasm, and landed upon a higher height, high over
+their heads. And for a moment they could hear, like a pulsation through
+the depths, the hard panting of his breath; then, with scarcely a moment
+for rest, they heard the sound of his progress onward, as if he did
+battle with the mountain, and his own swiftness carried him like another
+wind. It had taken less than a moment to sweep him past, quicker than the
+flight of a bird, as sudden as a lightning flash. The little Pilgrim
+followed him with her eager ears, wondering if he would leap thus into
+the country of light and take heaven by storm, or whether he would fall
+upon the heavenly hills, and lie prostrate in weariness and exhaustion,
+like him to whom she had ministered. She followed him with her ears, for
+the sound of his progress was with crashing of rocks and a swift movement
+in the air; but she was called back by the pressure of the hand of the
+watcher, who did not, like the little Pilgrim, follow him who thus rushed
+through space as far as there was sound or sight of him, but had turned
+again to the lower side, and was gazing once more, and listening for the
+little noises in the gulf below. The little Pilgrim remembered her
+friend's hope, and said softly, 'It was not he?' And the watcher clasped
+her hand again, and answered, 'It was a dear brother. I have sounded the
+silver bells for him; and soon we shall hear them answering from the
+heights above. And another time it will be he.' And they kissed each
+other because they understood each the other in her heart.
+
+And then they talked together of the old life when all things began; and
+of the wonderful things they had learned concerning the love of the
+Father and the Son; and how all the world was held by them and
+penetrated through and through by threads of love, so that it could
+never fail. And the darkness seemed light round them; and they forgot
+for a little that the wind was not as a summer breeze. Then once more
+the hand of the watcher pressed that of her companion, and bade her hush
+and listen; and they sat together holding their breath, straining their
+ears. Then heard they faint sounds which were very different from those
+made by him who had been driven past them like an arrow from a
+bow,--first as of something falling, but very far away, and a faint
+sound as of a foot which slipped. The listeners did not say a word to
+each other; they sat still and listened, scarcely drawing their breath.
+The darkness had no voice; it could not be but that some traveller was
+there, though hidden deep, deep in the gloom, only betrayed by the
+sound. There was a long pause, and the watcher held fast the little
+Pilgrim's hand, and betrayed to her the longing in her heart; for though
+she was already blessed beyond all blessedness known on earth, yet had
+she not forgotten the love that had begun on earth, but was forevermore.
+She murmured to herself and said, 'If it is not he, it is a brother; and
+the more that come, the more sure it is that he will come. Little
+sister, is there one for whom you watch?'
+
+'There is no one,' the Pilgrim said,--'but all.'
+
+'And so care I for all,' cried the watcher; and she drew her companion
+with her to the edge of the abyss, and they sat down upon it low among
+the rocks to escape the rushing of the wind. And they sang together a
+soft song; 'For if he should hear us,' she said, 'it may give him
+courage.' And there they sat and sang; and the white of their garments
+and of their heavenly faces showed like a light in the deep gloom, so
+that he who was toiling upwards might see that speck above him, and be
+encouraged to continue upon his way.
+
+Sometimes he fell, and they could hear the moan he made,--for every sound
+came upwards, however small and faint it might be,--and sometimes dragged
+himself along, so that they heard his movement up some shelf of rock. And
+as the Pilgrim looked, she saw other and other dim whitenesses along the
+ravines of the dark mountains, and knew that she was not the only one,
+but that many had come to watch and look for the coming of those who had
+been lost.
+
+Time was as nothing to these heavenly watchers; but they knew how long
+and terrible were the moments to those upon the way. Sometimes there
+would be silence like the silence of long years; and fear came upon them
+that the wayfarer had turned back, or that he had fallen, and lay
+suffering at the bottom of some gulf, or had been swept by the wind upon
+some icy peak and dashed against the rocks. Then anon, while they
+listened and held their breath, a little sound would strike again into
+the silence; bringing back hope; and again and again all would be still.
+The little Pilgrim held her companion's hand; and the thought went
+through her mind that were she watching for one whom she loved above the
+rest, her heart would fail. But the watcher answered her as if she had
+spoken, and said, 'Oh, no, oh, no; for if it is not he, it is a brother;
+and the Lord give them joy!' But they sang no more, their hearts being
+faint with suspense and with eagerness to hear every sound.
+
+Then in the great chill of the silence, suddenly, and not far off, came
+the sound of one who spoke. He murmured to himself and said, 'Who can
+continue on this terrible way? The night is black like hell, and there
+comes no morning. It was better in the land of darkness, for still we
+could see the face of man, though not God.' The muffled voice shook at
+that word, and then was still suddenly, as though it had been a flame and
+the wind had blown it out. And for a moment there was silence; until
+suddenly it broke forth once more,--
+
+'What is this that has come to me that I can say the name of God? It
+tortures no longer, it is as balm. But He is far off and hears nothing.
+He called us and we answered not. Now it is we who call, and He will not
+hear. I will lie down and die. It cannot be that a man must live and live
+forever in pain and anguish. Here will I lie, and it will end. O Thou
+whose face I have seen in the night, make it possible for a man to die!'
+
+The watcher loosed herself from her companion's clasp, and stood upright
+upon the edge of the cliff, clasping her hands together and saying low,
+as to herself, 'Father, Father!' as one who cannot refrain from that
+appeal, but who knows the Father loves best, and that to intercede is
+vain; and longing was in her face and joy. For it was he, and she knew
+that he could not now fail, but would reach to the celestial country and
+to the shining of the sun; yet that it was not hers to help him, nor any
+man's, nor angel's. But the little Pilgrim was ignorant, not having been
+taught; and she committed herself to those depths, though she feared
+them, and though she knew not what she could do. And once more the dense
+air closed over her, and the vacancy swallowed her up, and when she
+reached the rocks below, there lay something at her feet which she felt
+to be a man; but she could not see him nor touch him, and when she tried
+to speak, her voice died away in her throat and made no sound. Whether it
+was the wind that caught it and swept it quite away, or that the well of
+that depth profound sucked every note upwards, or whether because it was
+not permitted that either man or angel should come out of their sphere,
+or help be given which was forbidden, the little Pilgrim knew not,--for
+never had it been said to her that she should stand aside where need was.
+And surprise which was stronger than the icy wind, and for a moment a
+great dismay, took hold upon her,--for she understood not how it was that
+the bond of silence should bind her, and that she should be unable to put
+forth her hand to help him whom she heard moaning and murmuring, but
+could not see. And scarcely could her feet keep hold of the awful rock,
+or her form resist the upward sweep of the wind; but though he saw her
+not nor she him, yet could not she leave him in his weakness and misery,
+saying to herself that even if she could do nothing, it must be well that
+a little love should be near.
+
+Then she heard him speak again, crouching under the rock at her feet;
+and he said faintly to himself, 'That was no dream. In the land of
+darkness there are no dreams nor voices that speak within us. On the
+earth they were never silent struggling and crying; but there--all blank
+and still. Therefore it was no dream. It was One who came and looked me
+in the face; and love was in His eyes. I have not seen love, oh, for so
+long! But it was no dream. If God is a dream I know not, but love I know.
+And He said to me, "Arise and go." But to whom must I go? The words are
+words that once I knew, and the face I knew. But to whom, to whom?'
+
+The little Pilgrim cried aloud, so that she thought the rocks must be
+rent by the vehemence of her cry, calling like the other, 'Father,
+Father, Father!' as if her heart would burst; and it was like despair to
+think that she made no sound, and that the brother could not hear her who
+lay thus fainting at her feet. Yet she could not stop, but went on crying
+like a child that has lost its way; for to whom could a child call but to
+her father, and all the more when she cannot understand? And she called
+out and said that God was not His name save to strangers, if there are
+any strangers, but that His name was Father, and it was to Him that all
+must go. And all her being thrilled like a bird with its song, so that
+the very air stirred; yet no voice came. And she lifted up her face to
+the watcher above, and beheld where she stood holding up her hands a
+little whiteness in the great dark. But though these two were calling and
+calling, the silence was dumb. And neither of them could take him by the
+hand nor lift him up, nor show him, far, far above, the little diamond of
+the light, but were constrained to stand still and watch, seeing that he
+was one of those who are beyond hope.
+
+After she had waited a long time, he stirred again in the dark and
+murmured to himself once more, saying low, 'I have slept and am
+strong. And while I was sleeping He has come again; He has looked at
+me again. And somewhere I will find Him. I will arise and go; I will
+arise and go--'
+
+And she heard him move at her feet and grope over the rock with his
+hands; but it was smooth as snow with no holding, and slippery as ice.
+And the watcher stood above and the Pilgrim below, but could not help
+him. He groped and groped, and murmured to himself, ever saying, 'I
+will arise and go.' And their hearts were wrung that they could not
+speak to him nor touch him nor help him. But at last in the dark there
+burst forth a great cry, 'Who said it?' and then a sound of weeping,
+and amid the weeping, words. 'As when I was a child, as when hope
+was--I will arise and I will go--to my Father, to my Father! for now I
+remember, and I know.'
+
+The little Pilgrim sank down into a crevice of the rocks in the weakness
+of her great joy. And something passed her mounting up and up; and it
+seemed to her that he had touched her shoulder or her hand unawares, and
+that the dumb cry in her heart had reached him, and that it had been good
+for him that a little love stood by, though only to watch and to weep.
+And she listened and heard him go on and on; and she herself ascended
+higher to the watch-tower. And the watcher was gone who had waited there
+for her beloved, for she had gone with him, as the Lord had promised her,
+to be the one who should lead him to the holy city and to see the
+Father's face. And it was given to the little Pilgrim to sound the silver
+bells and to warn all the bands of the blessed, and the great angels and
+lords of the whole world, that from out the land of darkness and from the
+regions beyond hope another had come.
+
+She remained not there long, because there were many who sought that
+place that they might be the first to see if one beloved was among the
+travellers by that terrible way, and to welcome the brother or sister who
+was the most dear to them of all the children of the Father. But it was
+thus that she learned the last lesson of all that is in heaven and that
+is in earth, and in the heights above and in the depths below, which the
+great angels desire to look into, and all the princes and powers. And it
+is this: that there is that which is beyond hope yet not beyond love; and
+that hope may fail and be no longer possible, but love cannot fail,--for
+hope is of men, but love is the Lord; and there is but one thing which to
+Him is not possible, which is to forget; and that even when the Father
+has hidden His face and help is forbidden, yet there goes He secretly and
+cannot forbear.
+
+But if there were any deep more profound, and to which access was not,
+either from the dark mountains or by any other way, the Pilgrim was not
+taught, nor ever found any knowledge, either among the angels who know
+all things, or among her brothers who were the children of men.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+THE LAND OF DARKNESS.
+
+
+I found myself standing on my feet, with the tingling sensation of having
+come down rapidly upon the ground from a height. There was a similar
+feeling in my head, as of the whirling and sickening sensation of passing
+downwards through the air, like the description Dante gives of his
+descent upon Geryon. My mind, curiously enough, was sufficiently
+disengaged to think of that, or at least to allow swift passage for the
+recollection through my thoughts. All the aching of wonder, doubt, and
+fear which I had been conscious of a little while before was gone. There
+was no distinct interval between the one condition and the other, nor in
+my fall (as I supposed it must have been) had I any consciousness of
+change. There was the whirling of the air, resisting my passage, yet
+giving way under me in giddy circles, and then the sharp shock of once
+more feeling under my feet something solid, which struck, yet sustained.
+After a little while the giddiness above and the tingling below passed
+away, and I felt able to look about me and discern where I was. But not
+all at once; the things immediately about me impressed me first, then the
+general aspect of the new place.
+
+First of all the light, which was lurid, as if a thunder-storm were
+coming on. I looked up involuntarily to see if it had begun to rain; but
+there was nothing of the kind, though what I saw above me was a lowering
+canopy of cloud, dark, threatening, with a faint reddish tint diffused
+upon the vaporous darkness. It was, however, quite sufficiently clear to
+see everything, and there was a good deal to see. I was in a street of
+what seemed a great and very populous place. There were shops on either
+side, full apparently of all sorts of costly wares. There was a continual
+current of passengers up and down on both sides of the way, and in the
+middle of the street carriages of every description, humble and splendid.
+The noise was great and ceaseless; the traffic continual. Some of the
+shops were most brilliantly lighted, attracting one's eyes in the sombre
+light outside, which, however, had just enough of day in it to make these
+spots of illumination look sickly. Most of the places thus distinguished
+were apparently bright with the electric or some other scientific light;
+and delicate machines of every description, brought to the greatest
+perfection, were in some windows, as were also many fine productions of
+art, but mingled with the gaudiest and coarsest in a way which struck me
+with astonishment. I was also much surprised by the fact that the
+traffic, which was never stilled for a moment, seemed to have no sort of
+regulation. Some carriages dashed along, upsetting the smaller vehicles
+in their way, without the least restraint or order, either, as it seemed,
+from their own good sense or from the laws and customs of the place. When
+an accident happened, there was a great shouting, and sometimes a furious
+encounter; but nobody seemed to interfere. This was the first impression
+made upon me. The passengers on the pavement were equally regardless. I
+was myself pushed out of the way, first to one side, then to another,
+hustled when I paused for a moment, trodden upon and driven about. I
+retreated soon to the doorway of a shop, from whence with a little more
+safety I could see what was going on. The noise made my head ring. It
+seemed to me that I could not hear myself think. If this were to go on
+forever, I said to myself, I should soon go mad.
+
+'Oh, no,' said some one behind me, 'not at all. You will get used to it;
+you will be glad of it. One does not want to hear one's thoughts; most of
+them are not worth hearing.'
+
+I turned round and saw it was the master of the shop, who had come to the
+door on seeing me. He had the usual smile of a man who hoped to sell his
+wares; but to my horror and astonishment, by some process which I could
+not understand, I saw that he was saying to himself, 'What a d----d fool!
+here's another of those cursed wretches, d---- him!' all with the same
+smile. I started back, and answered him as hotly, 'What do you mean by
+calling me a d----d fool? fool yourself, and all the rest of it. Is this
+the way you receive strangers here?'
+
+'Yes,' he said with the same smile, 'this is the way; and I only describe
+you as you are, as you will soon see. Will you walk in and look over my
+shop? Perhaps you will find something to suit you if you are just setting
+up, as I suppose.'
+
+I looked at him closely, but this time I could not see that he was
+saying anything beyond what was expressed by his lips: and I followed
+him into the shop, principally because it was quieter than the street,
+and without any intention of buying,--for what should I buy in a strange
+place where I had no settled habitation, and which probably I was only
+passing through?
+
+'I will look at your things,' I said, in a way which I believe I had, of
+perhaps undue pretension. I had never been over-rich, or of very elevated
+station; but I was believed by my friends (or enemies) to have an
+inclination to make myself out something more important than I was. 'I
+will look at your things, and possibly I may find something that may suit
+me; but with all the _ateliers_ of Paris and London to draw from, it is
+scarcely to be expected that in a place like this--'
+
+Here I stopped to draw my breath, with a good deal of confusion; for I
+was unwilling to let him see that I did not know where I was.
+
+'A place like this,' said the shop-keeper, with a little laugh which
+seemed to me full of mockery, 'will supply you better, you will find,
+than--any other place. At least you will find it the only place
+practicable,' he added. 'I perceive you are a stranger here.'
+
+'Well, I may allow myself to be so, more or less. I have not had time to
+form much acquaintance with--the place; what--do you call the place?--its
+formal name, I mean,' I said with a great desire to keep up the air of
+superior information. Except for the first moment, I had not experienced
+that strange power of looking into the man below the surface which had
+frightened me. Now there occurred another gleam of insight, which gave me
+once more a sensation of alarm. I seemed to see a light of hatred and
+contempt below his smile; and I felt that he was not in the least taken
+in by the air which I assumed.
+
+'The name of the place,' he said, 'is not a pretty one. I hear the
+gentlemen who come to my shop say that it is not to be named to ears
+polite; and I am sure your ears are very polite.' He said this with the
+most offensive laugh, and I turned upon him and answered him, without
+mincing matters, with a plainness of speech which startled myself, but
+did not seem to move him, for he only laughed again. 'Are you not
+afraid,' I said, 'that I will leave your shop and never enter it more?'
+
+'Oh, it helps to pass the time,' he said; and without any further comment
+began to show me very elaborate and fine articles of furniture. I had
+always been attracted to this sort of thing, and had longed to buy such
+articles for my house when I had one, but never had it in my power. Now I
+had no house, nor any means of paying so far as I knew, but I felt quite
+at my ease about buying, and inquired into the prices with the greatest
+composure.
+
+'They are just the sort of thing I want. I will take these, I think; but
+you must set them aside for me, for I do not at the present moment
+exactly know--'
+
+'You mean you have got no rooms to put them in,' said the master of the
+shop. 'You must get a house directly, that's all. If you're only up to
+it, it is easy enough. Look about until you find something you like, and
+then--take possession.'
+
+'Take possession'--I was so much surprised that I stared at him
+with mingled indignation and surprise--'of what belongs to another
+man?' I said.
+
+I was not conscious of anything ridiculous in my look. I was indignant,
+which is not a state of mind in which there is any absurdity; but the
+shop-keeper suddenly burst into a storm of laughter. He laughed till he
+seemed almost to fall into convulsions, with a harsh mirth which reminded
+me of the old image of the crackling of thorns, and had neither amusement
+nor warmth in it; and presently this was echoed all around, and looking
+up, I saw grinning faces full of derision bent upon me from every side,
+from the stairs which led to the upper part of the house and from the
+depths of the shop behind,--faces with pens behind their ears, faces in
+workmen's caps, all distended from ear to ear, with a sneer and a mock
+and a rage of laughter which nearly sent me mad. I hurled I don't know
+what imprecations at them as I rushed out, stopping my ears in a paroxysm
+of fury and mortification. My mind was so distracted by this occurrence
+that I rushed without knowing it upon some one who was passing, and threw
+him down with the violence of my exit; upon which I was set on by a party
+of half a dozen ruffians, apparently his companions, who would, I
+thought, kill me, but who only flung me, wounded, bleeding, and feeling
+as if every bone in my body had been broken, down on the pavement, when
+they went away, laughing too.
+
+I picked myself up from the edge of the causeway, aching and sore from
+head to foot, scarcely able to move, yet conscious that if I did not get
+myself out of the way, one or other of the vehicles which were dashing
+along would run over me. It would be impossible to describe the miserable
+sensations, both of body and mind, with which I dragged myself across the
+crowded pavement, not without curses and even kicks from the passers-by,
+and avoiding the shop from which I still heard those shrieks of devilish
+laughter, gathered myself up in the shelter of a little projection of a
+wall, where I was for the moment safe. The pain which I felt was as
+nothing to the sense of humiliation, the mortification, the rage with
+which I was possessed. There is nothing in existence more dreadful than
+rage which is impotent, which cannot punish or avenge, which has to
+restrain itself and put up with insults showered upon it. I had never
+known before what that helpless, hideous exasperation was; and I was
+humiliated beyond description, brought down--I, whose inclination it was
+to make more of myself than was justifiable--to the aspect of a miserable
+ruffian beaten in a brawl, soiled, covered with mud and dust, my clothes
+torn, my face bruised and disfigured,--all this within half an hour or
+there about of my arrival in a strange place where nobody knew me or
+could do me justice! I kept looking out feverishly for some one with an
+air of authority to whom I could appeal. Sooner or later somebody must go
+by, who, seeing me in such a plight, must inquire how it came about, must
+help me and vindicate me. I sat there for I cannot tell how long,
+expecting every moment that were it but a policeman, somebody would
+notice and help me; but no one came. Crowds seemed to sweep by without a
+pause,--all hurrying, restless; some with anxious faces, as if any delay
+would be mortal; some in noisy groups intercepting the passage of the
+others. Sometimes one would pause to point me out to his comrades with a
+shout of derision at my miserable plight, or if by a change of posture I
+got outside the protection of my wall, would kick me back with a coarse
+injunction to keep out of the way. No one was sorry for me; not a look of
+compassion, not a word of inquiry was wasted upon me; no representative
+of authority appeared. I saw a dozen quarrels while I lay there, cries of
+the weak, and triumphant shouts of the strong; but that was all.
+
+I was drawn after a while from the fierce and burning sense of my own
+grievances by a querulous voice quite close to me. 'This is my corner,'
+it said. 'I've sat here for years, and I have a right to it. And here you
+come, you big ruffian, because you know I haven't got the strength to
+push you away.'
+
+'Who are you?' I said, turning round horror-stricken; for close beside me
+was a miserable man, apparently in the last stage of disease. He was pale
+as death, yet eaten up with sores. His body was agitated by a nervous
+trembling. He seemed to shuffle along on hands and feet, as though the
+ordinary mode of locomotion was impossible to him, and yet was in
+possession of all his limbs. Pain was written in his face. I drew away to
+leave him room, with mingled pity and horror that this poor wretch should
+be the partner of the only shelter I could find within so short a time of
+my arrival. I who--It was horrible, shameful, humiliating; and yet the
+suffering in his wretched face was so evident that I could not but feel a
+pang of pity too. 'I have nowhere to go,' I said. 'I am--a stranger. I
+have been badly used, and nobody seems to care.'
+
+'No,' he said, 'nobody cares; don't you look for that. Why should they?
+Why, you look as if you were sorry for _me!_ What a joke!' he murmured
+to himself,--'what a joke! Sorry for some one else! What a fool the
+fellow must be!'
+
+'You look,' I said, 'as if you were suffering horribly; and you say you
+have come here for years.'
+
+'Suffering! I should think I was,' said the sick man; 'but what is that
+to you? Yes; I've been here for years,--oh, years! that means
+nothing,--for longer than can be counted. Suffering is not the word. It's
+torture; it's agony! But who cares? Take your leg out of my way.'
+
+I drew myself out of his way from a sort of habit, though against my
+will, and asked, from habit too, 'Are you never any better than now?'
+
+He looked at me more closely, and an air of astonishment came over his
+face. 'What d'ye want here,' he said, 'pitying a man? That's something
+new here. No; I'm not always so bad, if you want to know. I get better,
+and then I go and do what makes me bad again, and that's how it will go
+on; and I choose it to be so, and you needn't bring any of your d----d
+pity here.'
+
+'I may ask, at least, why aren't you looked after? Why don't you get into
+some hospital?' I said.
+
+'Hospital!' cried the sick man, and then he too burst out into that
+furious laugh, the most awful sound I ever had heard. Some of the
+passers-by stopped to hear what the joke was, and surrounded me with once
+more a circle of mockers.
+
+'Hospitals! perhaps you would like a whole Red Cross Society, with
+ambulances and all arranged?' cried one. 'Or the _Misericordia_!' shouted
+another. I sprang up to my feet, crying, 'Why not?' with an impulse of
+rage which gave me strength. Was I never to meet with anything but this
+fiendish laughter? 'There's some authority, I suppose,' I cried in my
+fury. 'It is not the rabble that is the only master here, I hope.' But
+nobody took the least trouble to hear what I had to say for myself. The
+last speaker struck me on the mouth, and called me an accursed fool for
+talking of what I did not understand; and finally they all swept on and
+passed away.
+
+I had been, as I thought, severely injured when I dragged myself into
+that corner to save myself from the crowd; but I sprang up now as if
+nothing had happened to me. My wounds had disappeared; my bruises were
+gone. I was as I had been when I dropped, giddy and amazed, upon the
+same pavement, how long--an hour?--before? It might have been an hour,
+it might have been a year, I cannot tell. The light was the same as
+ever, the thunderous atmosphere unchanged. Day, if it was day, had
+made no progress; night, if it was evening, had come no nearer,--all
+was the same.
+
+As I went on again presently, with a vexed and angry spirit, regarding on
+every side around me the endless surging of the crowd, and feeling a
+loneliness, a sense of total abandonment and solitude, which I cannot
+describe, there came up to me a man of remarkable appearance. That he was
+a person of importance, of great knowledge and information, could not be
+doubted. He was very pale, and of a worn but commanding aspect. The lines
+of his face were deeply drawn; his eyes were sunk under high arched
+brows, from which they looked out as from caves, full of a fiery
+impatient light. His thin lips were never quite without a smile; but it
+was not a smile in which any pleasure was. He walked slowly, not
+hurrying, like most of the passengers. He had a reflective look, as if
+pondering many things. He came up to me suddenly, without introduction or
+preliminary, and took me by the arm. 'What object had you in talking of
+these antiquated institutions?' he said. And I saw in his mind the gleam
+of the thought, which seemed to be the first with all, that I was a fool,
+and that it was the natural thing to wish me harm, just as in the earth
+above it was the natural thing, professed at least, to wish well,--to
+say, Good-morning, good-day, by habit and without thought. In this
+strange country the stranger was received with a curse, and it woke an
+answer not unlike the hasty 'Curse you, then, also!' which seemed to come
+without any will of mine through my mind. But this provoked only a smile
+from my new friend. He took no notice. He was disposed to examine me, to
+find some amusement perhaps--how could I tell?--in what I might say.
+
+'What antiquated things?'
+
+'Are you still so slow of understanding? What were they--hospitals? The
+pretences of a world that can still deceive itself. Did you expect to
+find them here?'
+
+'I expected to find--how should I know?' I said, bewildered--'some
+shelter for a poor wretch where he could be cared for, not to be left
+there to die in the street. Expected! I never thought. I took it for
+granted--'
+
+'To die in the street!' he cried with a smile and a shrug of his
+shoulders. 'You'll learn better by and by. And if he did die in the
+street, what then? What is that to you?'
+
+'To me!' I turned and looked at him, amazed; but he had somehow shut his
+soul, so that I could see nothing but the deep eyes in their caves, and
+the smile upon the close-shut mouth. 'No more to me than to any one. I
+only spoke for humanity's sake, as--a fellow-creature.'
+
+My new acquaintance gave way to a silent laugh within himself, which was
+not so offensive as the loud laugh of the crowd, but yet was more
+exasperating than words can say. 'You think that matters? But it does not
+hurt you that he should he in pain. It would do you no good if he were to
+get well. Why should you trouble yourself one way or the other? Let him
+die--if he can--That makes no difference to you or me.'
+
+'I must be dull indeed,' I cried,--'slow of understanding, as you say.
+This is going back to the ideas of times beyond knowledge--before
+Christianity--' As soon as I had said this I felt somehow--I could not
+tell how--as if my voice jarred, as if something false and unnatural was
+in what I said. My companion gave my arm a twist as if with a shock of
+surprise, then laughed in his inward way again.
+
+'We don't think much of that here, nor of your modern pretences in
+general. The only thing that touches you and me is what hurts or helps
+ourselves. To be sure, it all comes to the same thing,--for I suppose it
+annoys you to see that wretch writhing; it hurts your more delicate,
+highly-cultivated consciousness.'
+
+'It has nothing to do with my consciousness,' I cried angrily; 'it is a
+shame to let a fellow-creature suffer if we can prevent it.'
+
+'Why shouldn't he suffer?' said my companion. We passed as he spoke some
+other squalid, wretched creatures shuffling among the crowd, whom he
+kicked with his foot, calling forth a yell of pain and curses. This he
+regarded with a supreme contemptuous calm which stupefied me. Nor did any
+of the passers-by show the slightest inclination to take the part of the
+sufferers. They laughed, or shouted out a gibe, or what was still more
+wonderful, went on with a complete unaffected indifference, as if all
+this was natural. I tried to disengage my arm in horror and dismay, but
+he held me fast with a pressure that hurt me. 'That's the question,' he
+said. 'What have we to do with it? Your fictitious consciousness makes it
+painful to you. To me, on the contrary, who take the view of nature, it
+is a pleasurable feeling. It enhances the amount of ease, whatever that
+may be, which I enjoy. I am in no pain. That brute who is'--and he
+flicked with a stick he carried the uncovered wound of a wretch upon the
+roadside--'makes me more satisfied with my condition. Ah! you think it
+is I who am the brute? You will change your mind by and by.'
+
+'Never!' I cried, wrenching my arm from his with an effort, 'if I should
+live a hundred years.'
+
+'A hundred years,--a drop in the bucket!' he said with his silent laugh.
+'You will live forever, and you will come to my view; and we shall meet
+in the course of ages, from time to time, to compare notes. I would say
+good-by after the old fashion, but you are but newly arrived, and I will
+not treat you so badly as that.' With which he parted from me, waving his
+hand, with his everlasting horrible smile.
+
+'Good-by!' I said to myself, 'good-by! why should it be treating me badly
+to say good-by--'
+
+I was startled by a buffet on the mouth. 'Take that!' cried some one,
+'to teach you how to wish the worst of tortures to people who have done
+you no harm.'
+
+'What have I said? I meant no harm; I repeated only what is the commonest
+civility, the merest good manners.'
+
+'You wished,' said the man who had struck me,--'I won't repeat the words:
+to me, for it was I only that heard them, the awful company that hurts
+most, that sets everything before us, both past and to come, and cuts
+like a sword and burns like fire. I'll say it to yourself, and see how it
+feels. God be with you! There! it is said, and we all must bear it,
+thanks, you fool and accursed, to you.'
+
+And then there came a pause over all the place, an awful
+stillness,--hundreds of men and women standing clutching with desperate
+movements at their hearts as if to tear them out, moving their heads as
+if to dash them against the wall, wringing their hands, with a look upon
+all their convulsed faces which I can never forget. They all turned to
+me, cursing me with those horrible eyes of anguish. And everything was
+still; the noise all stopped for a moment, the air all silent, with a
+silence that could be felt. And then suddenly out of the crowd there came
+a great piercing cry; and everything began again exactly as before.
+
+While this pause occurred, and while I stood wondering, bewildered,
+understanding nothing, there came over me a darkness, a blackness, a
+sense of misery such as never in all my life--though I have known
+troubles enough--I had felt before. All that had happened to me
+throughout my existence seemed to rise pale and terrible in a hundred
+scenes before me,--all momentary, intense, as if each was the present
+moment. And in each of these scenes I saw what I had never seen before. I
+saw where I had taken the wrong instead of the right step, in what
+wantonness, with what self-will it had been done; how God (I shuddered at
+the name) had spoken and called me, and even entreated, and I had
+withstood and refused. All the evil I had done came back, and spread
+itself out before my eyes; and I loathed it, yet knew that I had chosen
+it, and that it would be with me forever. I saw it all in the twinkling
+of an eye, in a moment, while I stood there, and all men with me, in the
+horror of awful thought. Then it ceased as it had come, instantaneously,
+and the noise and the laughter, and the quarrels and cries, and all the
+commotion of this new bewildering place, in a moment began again. I had
+seen no one while this strange paroxysm lasted. When it disappeared, I
+came to myself, emerging as from a dream, and looked into the face of the
+man whose words, not careless like mine, had brought it upon us. Our eyes
+met, and his were surrounded by curves and lines of anguish which were
+terrible to see.
+
+'Well,' he said with a short laugh, which was forced and harsh, 'how do
+you like it? that is what happens when--If it came often, who could
+endure it?' He was not like the rest. There was no sneer upon his face,
+no gibe at my simplicity. Even now, when all had recovered, he was still
+quivering with something that looked like a nobler pain. His face was
+very grave, the lines deeply drawn in it; and he seemed to be seeking no
+amusement or distraction, nor to take any part in the noise and tumult
+which was going on around.
+
+'Do you know what that cry meant?' he said. 'Did you hear that cry? It
+was some one who saw--even here once in a long time, they say, it can
+be seen--'
+
+'What can be seen?'
+
+He shook his head, looking at me with a meaning which I could not
+interpret. It was beyond the range of my thoughts. I came to know after,
+or I never could have made this record. But on that subject he said no
+more. He turned the way I was going, though it mattered nothing what way
+I went, for all were the same to me. 'You are one of the new-comers?' he
+said; 'you have not been long here--'
+
+'Tell me,' I cried, 'what you mean by _here_. Where are we? How can one
+tell who has fallen--he knows not whence or where? What is this place? I
+have never seen anything like it. It seems to me that I hate it already,
+though I know not what it is.'
+
+He shook his head once more. 'You will hate it more and more,' he said;
+'but of these dreadful streets you will never be free, unless--' And here
+he stopped again.
+
+'Unless--what? If it is possible, I will be free of them, and that
+before long.'
+
+He smiled at me faintly, as we smile at children, but not with derision.
+
+'How shall you do that? Between this miserable world and all others,
+there is a great gulf fixed. It is full of all the bitterness and tears
+that come from all the universe. These drop from them, but stagnate here.
+We, you perceive, have no tears, not even at moments--' Then, 'You will
+soon be accustomed to all this,' he said. 'You will fall into the way.
+Perhaps you will be able to amuse yourself to make it passable. Many do.
+There are a number of fine things to be seen here. If you are curious,
+come with me and I will show you. Or work,--there is even work. There is
+only one thing that is impossible, or if not impossible--' And here he
+paused again and raised his eyes to the dark clouds and lurid sky
+overhead. 'The man who gave that cry! if I could but find him! he must
+have seen--'
+
+'What could he see?' I asked. But there arose in my mind something like
+contempt. A visionary! who could not speak plainly, who broke off into
+mysterious inferences, and appeared to know more than he would say. It
+seemed foolish to waste time, when evidently there was still so much to
+see, in the company of such a man; and I began already to feel more at
+home. There was something in that moment of anguish which had wrought a
+strange familiarity in me with my surroundings. It was so great a relief
+to return out of the misery of that sharp and horrible self-realization,
+to what had come to be, in comparison, easy and well known. I had no
+desire to go back and grope among the mysteries and anguish so suddenly
+revealed. I was glad to be free from them, to be left to myself, to get a
+little pleasure perhaps like the others. While these thoughts passed
+through my mind, I had gone on without any active impulse of my own, as
+everybody else did; and my latest companion had disappeared. He saw, no
+doubt, without any need for words, what my feelings were. And I proceeded
+on my way. I felt better as I got more accustomed to the place, or
+perhaps it was the sensation of relief after that moment of indescribable
+pain. As for the sights in the streets, I began to grow used to them. The
+wretched creatures who strolled or sat about with signs of sickness or
+wounds upon them disgusted me only, they no longer called forth my pity.
+I began to feel ashamed of my silly questions about the hospital. All the
+same, it would have been a good thing to have had some receptacle for
+them, into which they might have been driven out of the way. I felt an
+inclination to push them aside as I saw other people do, but was a little
+ashamed of that impulse too; and so I went on. There seemed no quiet
+streets, so far as I could make out, in the place. Some were smaller,
+meaner, with a different kind of passengers, but the same hubbub and
+unresting movement everywhere. I saw no signs of melancholy or
+seriousness; active pain, violence, brutality, the continual shock of
+quarrels and blows, but no pensive faces about, no sorrowfulness, nor the
+kind of trouble which brings thought. Everybody was fully occupied,
+pushing on as if in a race, pausing for nothing.
+
+The glitter of the lights, the shouts, and sounds of continual going, the
+endless whirl of passers-by, confused and tired me after a while. I went
+as far out as I could go to what seemed the out-skirts of the place,
+where I could by glimpses perceive a low horizon all lurid and glowing,
+which seemed to sweep round and round. Against it in the distance stood
+up the outline, black against that red glow, of other towers and
+house-tops, so many and great that there was evidently another town
+between us and the sunset, if sunset it was. I have seen a western sky
+like it when there were storms about, and all the colors of the sky were
+heightened and darkened by angry influences. The distant town rose
+against it, cutting the firmament so that it might have been tongues of
+flame flickering between the dark solid outlines; and across the waste
+open country which lay between the two cities, there came a distant hum
+like the sound of the sea, which was in reality the roar of that other
+multitude. The country between showed no greenness or beauty; it lay dark
+under the dark overhanging sky. Here and there seemed a cluster of giant
+trees scathed as if by lightning, their bare boughs standing up as high
+as the distant towers, their trunks like black columns without foliage.
+Openings here and there, with glimmering lights, looked like the mouths
+of mines; but of passengers there were scarcely any. A figure here and
+there flew along as if pursued, imperfectly seen, a shadow only a little
+darker than the space about. And in contrast with the sound of the city,
+here was no sound at all, except the low roar on either side, and a
+vague cry or two from the openings of the mine,--a scene all drawn in
+darkness, in variations of gloom, deriving scarcely any light at all from
+the red and gloomy burning of that distant evening sky.
+
+A faint curiosity to go forwards, to see what the mines were, perhaps to
+get a share in what was brought up from them, crossed my mind. But I was
+afraid of the dark, of the wild uninhabited savage look of the landscape;
+though when I thought of it, there seemed no reason why a narrow stretch
+of country between two great towns should be alarming. But the impression
+was strong and above reason. I turned back to the street in which I had
+first alighted, and which seemed to end in a great square full of people.
+In the middle there was a stage erected, from which some one was
+delivering an oration or address of some sort. He stood beside a long
+table, upon which lay something which I could not clearly distinguish,
+except that it seemed alive, and moved, or rather writhed with convulsive
+twitchings, as if trying to get free of the bonds which confined it.
+Round the stage in front were a number of seats occupied by listeners,
+many of whom were women, whose interest seemed to be very great, some of
+them being furnished with note-books; while a great unsettled crowd
+coming and going, drifted round,--many, arrested for a time as they
+passed, proceeding on their way when the interest flagged, as is usual to
+such open-air assemblies. I followed two of those who pushed their way to
+within a short distance of the stage, and who were strong, big men, more
+fitted to elbow the crowd aside than I, after my rough treatment in the
+first place, and the agitation I had passed through, could be. I was
+glad, besides, to take advantage of the explanation which one was giving
+to the other. 'It's always fun to see this fellow demonstrate,' he said,
+'and the subject to-day's a capital one. Let's get well forward, and see
+all that's going on.'
+
+'Which subject do you mean?' said the other; 'the theme or the example?'
+And they both laughed, though I did not seize the point of the wit.
+
+'Well, both,' said the first speaker. 'The theme is nerves; and as a
+lesson in construction and the calculation of possibilities, it's fine.
+He's very clever at that. He shows how they are all strung to give as
+much pain and do as much harm as can be; and yet how well it's all
+managed, don't you know, to look the reverse. As for the example, he's a
+capital one--all nerves together, lying, if you like, just on the
+surface, ready for the knife.'
+
+'If they're on the surface I can't see where the fun is,' said the other.
+
+'Metaphorically speaking. Of course they are just where other people's
+nerves are; but he's what you call a highly organized nervous
+specimen. There will be plenty of fun. Hush! he is just going to begin.'
+
+'The arrangement of these threads of being,' said the lecturer, evidently
+resuming after a pause, 'so as to convey to the brain the most
+instantaneous messages of pain or pleasure, is wonderfully skilful and
+clever. I need not say to the audience before me, enlightened as it is by
+experiences of the most striking kind, that the messages are less of
+pleasure than of pain. They report to the brain the stroke of injury far
+more often than the thrill of pleasure; though sometimes that too, no
+doubt, or life could scarcely be maintained. The powers that be have
+found it necessary to mingle a little sweet of pleasurable sensation,
+else our miserable race would certainly have found some means of
+procuring annihilation. I do not for a moment pretend to say that the
+pleasure is sufficient to offer a just counterbalance to the other. None
+of my hearers will, I hope, accuse me of inconsistency. I am ready to
+allow that in a previous condition I asserted somewhat strongly that this
+was the case; but experience has enlightened us on that point. Our
+circumstances are now understood by us all in a manner impossible while
+we were still in a condition of incompleteness. We are all convinced that
+there is no compensation. The pride of the position, of bearing
+everything rather than give in, or making a submission we do not feel, of
+preserving our own will and individuality to all eternity, is the only
+compensation. I am satisfied with it, for my part.'
+
+The orator made a pause, holding his head high, and there was a certain
+amount of applause. The two men before me cheered vociferously. 'That is
+the right way to look at it,' one of them said. My eyes were upon them,
+with no particular motive; and I could not help starting, as I saw
+suddenly underneath their applause and laughter a snarl of cursing, which
+was the real expression of their thoughts. I felt disposed in the same
+way to curse the speaker, though I knew no reason why.
+
+He went on a little farther, explaining what he meant to do; and then
+turning round, approached the table. An assistant, who was waiting,
+uncovered it quickly. The audience stirred with quickened interest, and I
+with consternation made a step forwards, crying out with horror. The
+object on the table, writhing, twitching to get free, but bound down by
+every limb, was a living man. The lecturer went forwards calmly, taking
+his instruments from their case with perfect composure and coolness.
+'Now, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, and inserted the knife in the
+flesh, making a long clear cut in the bound arm. I shrieked out, unable
+to restrain myself. The sight of the deliberate wound, the blood, the cry
+of agony that came from the victim, the calmness of all the lookers-on,
+filled me with horror and rage indescribable. I felt myself clear the
+crowd away with a rush, and spring on the platform, I could not tell how.
+'You devil!' I cried, 'let the man go! Where is the police? Where is a
+magistrate? Let the man go this moment! fiends in human shape! I'll have
+you brought to justice!' I heard myself shouting wildly, as I flung
+myself upon the wretched sufferer, interposing between him and the knife.
+It was something like this that I said. My horror and rage were
+delirious, and carried me beyond all attempt at control.
+
+Through it all I heard a shout of laughter rising from everybody round.
+The lecturer laughed; the audience roared with that sound of horrible
+mockery which had driven me out of myself in my first experience. All
+kinds of mocking cries sounded around me. 'Let him a little blood to calm
+him down.' 'Let the fool have a taste of it himself, doctor.' Last of all
+came a voice mingled with the cries of the sufferer whom I was trying to
+shield, 'Take him instead; curse him! take him instead.' I was bending
+over the man with my arms outstretched, protecting him, when he gave vent
+to this cry. And I heard immediately behind me a shout of assent, which
+seemed to come from the two strong young men with whom I had been
+standing, and the sound of a rush to seize me. I looked round, half mad
+with terror and rage; a second more and I should have been strapped on
+the table too. I made one wild bound into the midst of the crowd; and
+struggling among the arms stretched out to catch me, amid the roar of the
+laughter and cries--fled--fled wildly, I knew not whither, in panic and
+rage and horror which no words could describe. Terror winged my feet. I
+flew, thinking as little of whom I met, or knocked down, or trod upon in
+my way, as the others did at whom I had wondered a little while ago.
+
+No distinct impression of this headlong course remains in my mind, save
+the sensation of mad fear such as I had never felt before. I came to
+myself on the edge of the dark valley which surrounded the town. All my
+pursuers had dropped off before that time; and I have the recollection of
+flinging myself upon the ground on my face in the extremity of fatigue
+and exhaustion. I must have lain there undisturbed for some time. A few
+steps came and went, passing me; but no one took any notice, and the
+absence of the noise and crowding gave me a momentary respite. But in my
+heat and fever I got no relief of coolness from the contact of the soil.
+I might have flung myself upon a bed of hot ashes, so much was it unlike
+the dewy cool earth which I expected, upon which one can always throw
+one's self with a sensation of repose. Presently the uneasiness of it
+made me struggle up again and look around me. I was safe; at least the
+cries of the pursuers had died away, the laughter which made my blood
+boil offended my ears no more. The noise of the city was behind me,
+softened into an indefinite roar by distance, and before me stretched out
+the dreary landscape in which there seemed no features of attraction.
+Now that I was nearer to it, I found it not so unpeopled as I thought. At
+no great distance from me was the mouth of one of the mines, from which
+came an indication of subterranean lights; and I perceived that the
+flying figures which I had taken for travellers between one city and
+another were in reality wayfarers endeavoring to keep clear of what
+seemed a sort of press-gang at the openings. One of them, unable to stop
+himself in his flight, adopted the same expedient as myself, and threw
+himself on the ground close to me when he had got beyond the range of
+pursuit. It was curious that we should meet there, he flying from a
+danger which I was about to face, and ready to encounter that from which
+I had fled. I waited for a few minutes till he had recovered his breath,
+and then, 'What are you running from?' I said. 'Is there any danger
+there?' The man looked up at me with the same continual question in his
+eyes,--Who is this fool?
+
+'Danger!' he said. 'Are you so new here, or such a cursed idiot, as not
+to know the danger of the mines? You are going across yourself, I
+suppose, and then you'll see.'
+
+'But tell me,' I said; 'my experience may be of use to you afterwards,
+if you will tell me yours now.'
+
+'Of use!' he cried, staring; 'who cares? Find out for yourself. If they
+get hold of you, you will soon understand.'
+
+I no longer took this for rudeness, but answered in his own way, cursing
+him too for a fool. 'If I ask a warning I can give one; as for kindness,'
+I said, 'I was not looking for that.'
+
+At this he laughed, indeed we laughed together,--there seemed something
+ridiculous in the thought; and presently he told me, for the mere relief
+of talking, that round each of these pit-mouths there was a band to
+entrap every passer-by who allowed himself to be caught, and send him
+down below to work in the mine. 'Once there, there is no telling when you
+may get free,' he said; 'one time or other most people have a taste of
+it. You don't know what hard labor is if you have never been there. I had
+a spell once. There is neither air nor light; your blood boils in your
+veins from the fervent heat; you are never allowed to rest. You are put
+in every kind of contortion to get at it, your limbs twisted, and your
+muscles strained.'
+
+'For what?' I said.
+
+'For gold!' he cried with a flash in his eyes--'gold! There it is
+inexhaustible; however hard you may work, there is always more, and
+more!'
+
+'And to whom does all that belong?' I said. 'To whoever is strong enough
+to get hold and keep possession,--sometimes one, sometimes another. The
+only thing you are sure of is that it will never be you.'
+
+Why not I as well as another? was the thought that went through my mind,
+and my new companion spied it with a shriek of derision.
+
+'It is not for you nor your kind,' he cried. 'How do you think you could
+force other people to serve _you_? Can you terrify them or hurt them, or
+give them anything? You have not learned yet who are the masters here.'
+
+This troubled me, for it was true. 'I had begun to think,' I said, 'that
+there was no authority at all,--for every man seems to do as he pleases;
+you ride over one, and knock another down, or you seize a living man and
+cut him to pieces'--I shuddered as I thought of it--'and there is nobody
+to interfere.'
+
+'Who should interfere?' he said. 'Why shouldn't every man amuse himself
+as he can? But yet for all that we've got our masters,' he cried with a
+scowl, waving his clinched fist in the direction of the mines; 'you'll
+find it out when you get there.'
+
+It was a long time after this before I ventured to move, for here it
+seemed to me that for the moment I was safe,--outside the city, yet not
+within reach of the dangers of that intermediate space which grew clearer
+before me as my eyes became accustomed to the lurid threatening afternoon
+light. One after another the fugitives came flying past me,--people who
+had escaped from the armed bands whom I could now see on the watch near
+the pit's mouth. I could see too the tactics of these bands,--how they
+retired, veiling the lights and the opening, when a greater number than
+usual of travellers appeared on the way, and then suddenly widening out,
+throwing out flanking lines, surrounded and drew in the unwary. I could
+even hear the cries with which their victims disappeared over the opening
+which seemed to go down into the bowels of the earth. By and by there
+came flying towards me a wretch more dreadful in aspect than any I had
+seen. His scanty clothes seemed singed and burned into rags; his hair,
+which hung about his face unkempt and uncared for, had the same singed
+aspect; his skin was brown and baked. I got up as he approached, and
+caught him and threw him to the ground, without heeding his struggles to
+get on. 'Don't you see,' he cried with a gasp, 'they may get me again.'
+He was one of those who had escaped out of the mines; but what was it to
+me whether they caught him again or not? I wanted to know how he had been
+caught, and what he had been set to do, and how he had escaped. Why
+should I hesitate to use my superior strength when no one else did? I
+kept watch over him that he should not get away.
+
+'You have been in the mines?' I said.
+
+'Let me go!' he cried. 'Do you need to ask?' and he cursed me as he
+struggled, with the most terrible imprecations. 'They may get me yet.
+Let me go!'
+
+'Not till you tell me,' I cried. 'Tell me and I'll protect you. If they
+come near I'll let you go. Who are they, man? I must know.'
+
+He struggled up from the ground, clearing his hot eyes from the ashes
+that were in them, and putting aside his singed hair. He gave me a glance
+of hatred and impotent resistance (for I was stronger than he), and then
+cast a wild terrified look back. The skirmishers did not seem to remark
+that anybody had escaped, and he became gradually a little more composed.
+'Who are they?' he said hoarsely. 'They're cursed wretches like you and
+me; and there are as many bands of them as there are mines on the road;
+and you'd better turn back and stay where you are. You are safe here.'
+
+'I will not turn back,' I said.
+
+'I know well enough: you can't. You've got to go the round like the
+rest,' he said with a laugh which was like a sound uttered by a wild
+animal rather than a human voice. The man was in my power, and I struck
+him, miserable as he was. It seemed a relief thus to get rid of some of
+the fury in my mind. 'It's a lie,' I said; 'I go because I please. Why
+shouldn't I gather a band of my own if I please, and fight those brutes,
+not fly from them like you?'
+
+He chuckled and laughed below his breath, struggling and cursing and
+crying out, as I struck him again, 'You gather a band! What could you
+offer them? Where would you find them? Are you better than the rest of
+us? Are you not a man like the rest? Strike me you can, for I'm down. But
+make yourself a master and a chief--you!'
+
+'Why not I?' I shouted again, wild with rage and the sense that I had no
+power over him, save to hurt him. That passion made my hands tremble; he
+slipped from me in a moment, bounded from the ground like a ball, and
+with a yell of derision escaped, and plunged into the streets and the
+clamor of the city from which I had just flown. I felt myself rage after
+him, shaking my fists with a consciousness of the ridiculous passion of
+impotence that was in me, but no power of restraining it; and there was
+not one of the fugitives who passed, however desperate he might be, who
+did not make a mock at me as he darted by. The laughing-stock of all
+those miserable objects, the sport of fate, afraid to go forwards, unable
+to go back, with a fire in my veins urging me on! But presently I grew a
+little calmer out of mere exhaustion, which was all the relief that was
+possible to me. And by and by, collecting all my faculties, and impelled
+by this impulse, which I seemed unable to resist, I got up and went
+cautiously on.
+
+Fear can act in two ways: it paralyzes, and it renders cunning. At this
+moment I found it inspire me. I made my plans before I started, how to
+steal along under the cover of the blighted brushwood which broke the
+line of the valley here and there. I set out only after long thought,
+seizing the moment when the vaguely perceived band were scouring in the
+other direction intercepting the travellers. Thus, with many pauses, I
+got near to the pit's mouth in safety. But my curiosity was as great as,
+almost greater than my terror. I had kept far from the road, dragging
+myself sometimes on hands and feet over broken ground, tearing my clothes
+and my flesh upon the thorns; and on that farther side all seemed so
+silent and so dark in the shadow cast by some disused machinery, behind
+which the glare of the fire from below blazed upon the other side of the
+opening, that I could not crawl along in the darkness, and pass, which
+would have been the safe way, but with a breathless hot desire to see and
+know, dragged myself to the very edge to look down. Though I was in the
+shadow, my eyes were nearly put out by the glare on which I gazed. It was
+not fire; it was the lurid glow of the gold, glowing like flame, at which
+countless miners were working. They were all about like flies,--some on
+their knees, some bent double as they stooped over their work, some lying
+cramped upon shelves and ledges. The sight was wonderful, and terrible
+beyond description. The workmen seemed to consume away with the heat and
+the glow, even in the few minutes I gazed. Their eyes shrank into their
+heads; their faces blackened. I could see some trying to secret morsels
+of the glowing metal, which burned whatever it touched, and some who were
+being searched by the superiors of the mines, and some who were punishing
+the offenders, fixing them up against the blazing wall of gold. The fear
+went out of my mind, so much absorbed was I in this sight. I gazed,
+seeing farther and farther every moment into crevices and seams of the
+glowing metal, always with more and more slaves at work, and the entire
+pantomime of labor and theft, and search and punishment, going on and
+on,--the baked faces dark against the golden glare, the hot eyes taking a
+yellow reflection, the monotonous clamor of pick and shovel, and cries
+and curses, and all the indistinguishable sound of a multitude of human
+creatures. And the floor below, and the low roof which overhung whole
+myriads within a few inches of their faces, and the irregular walls all
+breached and shelved, were every one the same, a pandemonium of
+gold,--gold everywhere. I had loved many foolish things in my life, but
+never this; which was perhaps why I gazed and kept my sight, though there
+rose out of it a blast of heat which scorched the brain.
+
+While I stooped over, intent on the sight, some one who had come up by
+my side to gaze too was caught by the fumes (as I suppose), for suddenly
+I was aware of a dark object falling prone into the glowing interior with
+a cry and crash which brought back my first wild panic. He fell in a
+heap, from which his arms shot forth wildly as he reached the bottom, and
+his cry was half anguish yet half desire. I saw him seized by half a
+dozen eager watchers, and pitched upon a ledge just under the roof, and
+tools thrust into his hands. I held on by an old shaft, trembling, unable
+to move. Perhaps I cried too in my horror,--for one of the overseers who
+stood in the centre of the glare looked up. He had the air of ordering
+all that was going on, and stood unaffected by the blaze, commanding the
+other wretched officials, who obeyed him like dogs. He seemed to me, in
+my terror, like a figure of gold, the image perhaps of wealth or Pluto,
+or I know not what, for I suppose my brain began to grow confused, and my
+hold on the shaft to relax. I had strength enough, however (for I cared
+not for the gold), to fling myself back the other way upon the ground,
+where I rolled backwards, downwards, I knew not how, turning over and
+over upon sharp ashes and metallic edges, which tore my hair and
+beard.--and for a moment I knew no more.
+
+This fall saved me. I came to myself after a time, and heard the
+press-gang searching about. I had sense to lie still among the ashes
+thrown up out of the pit, while I heard their voices. Once I gave myself
+up for lost. The glitter of a lantern flashed in my eyes, a foot passed,
+crashing among the ashes so close to my cheek that the shoe grazed it. I
+found the mark after, burned upon my flesh; but I escaped notice by a
+miracle. And presently I was able to drag myself up and crawl away; but
+how I reached the end of the valley I cannot tell. I pushed my way along
+mechanically on the dark side. I had no further desire to see what was
+going on in the openings of the mines. I went on, stumbling and stupid,
+scarcely capable even of fear, conscious only of wretchedness and
+weariness, till at last I felt myself drop across the road within the
+gateway of the other town, and lay there with no thought of anything but
+the relief of being at rest.
+
+When I came to myself, it seemed to me that there was a change in the
+atmosphere and the light. It was less lurid, paler, gray, more like
+twilight than the stormy afternoon of the other city. A certain dead
+serenity was in the sky,--black paleness, whiteness, everything faint in
+it. This town was walled, but the gates stood open, and I saw no defences
+of troops or other guardians. I found myself lying across the threshold,
+but pushed to one side, so that the carriages which went and came should
+not be stopped or I injured by their passage. It seemed to me that there
+was some thoughtfulness and kindness in this action, and my heart sprang
+up in a reaction of hope. I looked back as if upon a nightmare on the
+dreadful city which I had left, on its tumults and noise, the wild racket
+of the streets, the wounded wretches who sought refuge in the corners,
+the strife and misery that were abroad, and, climax of all, the horrible
+entertainment which had been going on in the square, the unhappy being
+strapped upon the table. How, I said to myself, could such things be? Was
+it a dream? Was it a nightmare? Was it something presented to me in a
+vision,--a strong delusion to make me think that the old fables which had
+been told concerning the end of mortal life were true? When I looked back
+it appeared like an allegory, so that I might have seen it in a dream;
+and still more like an allegory were the gold mines in the valley, and
+the myriads who labored there. Was it all true, or only a reflection
+from the old life mingling with the strange novelties which would most
+likely elude understanding on the entrance into this new? I sat within
+the shelter of the gateway on my awakening, and thought over all this. My
+heart was calm,--almost, in the revulsion from the terrors I had been
+through, happy. I persuaded myself that I was but now beginning; that
+there had been no reality in these latter experiences, only a curious
+succession of nightmares, such as might so well be supposed to follow a
+wonderful transformation like that which must take place between our
+mortal life and--the world to come. The world to come! I paused and
+thought of it all, until the heart began to beat loud in my breast. What
+was this where I lay? Another world,--a world which was not happiness,
+not bliss? Oh, no; perhaps there was no world of bliss save in dreams.
+This, on the other hand, I said to myself, was not misery; for was not I
+seated here, with a certain tremulousness about me, it was true, after
+all the experiences which, supposing them even to have been but dreams, I
+had come through,--a tremulousness very comprehensible, and not at all
+without hope?
+
+I will not say that I believed even what I tried to think. Something in
+me lay like a dark shadow in the midst of all my theories; but yet I
+succeeded to a great degree in convincing myself that the hope in me was
+real, and that I was but now beginning--beginning with at least a
+possibility that all might be well. In this half conviction, and after
+all the troubles that were over (even though they might only have been
+imaginary troubles), I felt a certain sweetness in resting there within
+the gateway, with my back against it. I was unwilling to get up again,
+and bring myself in contact with reality. I felt that there was pleasure
+in being left alone. Carriages rolled past me occasionally, and now and
+then some people on foot; but they did not kick me out of the way or
+interfere with my repose.
+
+Presently as I sat trying to persuade myself to rise and pursue my way,
+two men came up to me in a sort of uniform. I recognized with another
+distinct sensation of pleasure that here were people who had authority,
+representatives of some kind of government. They came up to me and bade
+me come with them in tones which were peremptory enough; but what of
+that?--better the most peremptory supervision than the lawlessness from
+which I had come. They raised me from the ground with a touch, for I
+could not resist them, and led me quickly along the street into which
+that gateway gave access, which was a handsome street with tall houses
+on either side. Groups of people were moving about along the pavement,
+talking now and then with considerable animation; but when my companions
+were seen, there was an immediate moderation of tone, a sort of respect
+which looked like fear. There was no brawling nor tumult of any kind in
+the street. The only incident that occurred was this: when we had gone
+some way, I saw a lame man dragging himself along with difficulty on the
+other side of the street. My conductors had no sooner perceived him than
+they gave each other a look and darted across, conveying me with them,
+by a sweep of magnetic influence, I thought, that prevented me from
+staying behind. He made an attempt with his crutches to get out of the
+way, hurrying on--and I will allow that this attempt of his seemed to me
+very grotesque, so that I could scarcely help laughing; the other
+lookers-on in the street laughed too, though some put on an aspect of
+disgust. 'Look, the tortoise!' some one said; 'does he think he can go
+quicker than the orderlies?' My companions came up to the man while this
+commentary was going on, and seized him by each arm. 'Where were you
+going? Where have you come from? How dare you make an exhibition of
+yourself?' they cried. They took the crutches from him as they spoke and
+threw them away, and dragged him on until we reached a great grated door
+which one of them opened with a key, while the other held the offender
+(for he seemed an offender) roughly up by one shoulder, causing him
+great pain. When the door was opened, I saw a number of people within,
+who seemed to crowd to the door as if seeking to get out; but this was
+not at all what was intended. My second companion dragged the lame man
+forwards, and pushed him in with so much violence that I could see him
+fall forwards on his face on the floor. Then the other locked the door,
+and we proceeded on our way. It was not till some time later that I
+understood why.
+
+In the mean time I was hurried on, meeting a great many people who took
+no notice of me, to a central building in the middle of the town, where I
+was brought before an official attended by clerks, with great books
+spread out before him. Here I was questioned as to my name and my
+antecedents and the time of my arrival, then dismissed with a nod to one
+of my conductors. He led me back again down the street, took me into one
+of the tall great houses, opened the door of a room which was numbered,
+and left me there without a word. I cannot convey to any one the
+bewildered consternation with which I felt myself deposited here; and as
+the steps of my conductor died away in the long corridor, I sat down, and
+looking myself in the face, as it were, tried to make out what it was
+that had happened to me. The room was small and bare. There was but one
+thing hung upon the undecorated walls, and that was a long list of
+printed regulations which I had not the courage for the moment to look
+at. The light was indifferent, though the room was high up, and the
+street from the window looked far away below. I cannot tell how long I
+sat there thinking, and yet it could scarcely be called thought. I asked
+myself over and over again, Where am I? is it a prison? am I shut in, to
+leave this enclosure no more? what am I to do? how is the time to pass? I
+shut my eyes for a moment and tried to realize all that had happened to
+me; but nothing save a whirl through my head of disconnected thoughts
+seemed possible, and some force was upon me to open my eyes again, to
+see the blank room, the dull light, the vacancy round me in which there
+was nothing to interest the mind, nothing to please the eye,--a blank
+wherever I turned. Presently there came upon me a burning regret for
+everything I had left,--for the noisy town with all its tumults and
+cruelties, for the dark valley with all its dangers. Everything seemed
+bearable, almost agreeable, in comparison with this. I seemed to have
+been brought here to make acquaintance once more with myself, to learn
+over again what manner of man I was. Needless knowledge, acquaintance
+unnecessary, unhappy! for what was there in me to make me to myself a
+good companion? Never, I knew, could I separate myself from that eternal
+consciousness; but it was cruelty to force the contemplation upon me. All
+blank, blank around me, a prison! And was this to last forever?
+
+I do not know how long I sat, rapt in this gloomy vision; but at last it
+occurred to me to rise and try the door, which to my astonishment was
+open. I went out with a throb of new hope. After all, it might not be
+necessary to come back. There might be other expedients; I might fall
+among friends. I turned down the long echoing stairs, on which I met
+various people, who took no notice of me, and in whom I felt no interest
+save a desire to avoid them, and at last reached the street. To be out of
+doors in the air was something, though there was no wind, but a
+motionless still atmosphere which nothing disturbed. The streets, indeed,
+were full of movement, but not of life--though this seems a paradox. The
+passengers passed on their way in long regulated lines,--those who went
+towards the gates keeping rigorously to one side of the pavement, those
+who came, to the other. They talked to each other here and there; but
+whenever two men in uniform, such as those who had been my conductors,
+appeared, silence ensued, and the wayfarers shrank even from the looks of
+these persons in authority. I walked all about the spacious town.
+Everywhere there were tall houses, everywhere streams of people coming
+and going, but no one spoke to me, or remarked me at all. I was as lonely
+as if I had been in a wilderness. I was indeed in a wilderness of men,
+who were as though they did not see me, passing without even a look of
+human fellowship, each absorbed in his own concerns. I walked and walked
+till my limbs trembled under me, from one end to another of the great
+streets, up and down, and round and round. But no one said, How are you?
+Whence come you? What are you doing? At length in despair I turned again
+to the blank and miserable room, which had looked to me like a cell in a
+prison. I had wilfully made no note of its situation, trying to avoid
+rather than to find it, but my steps were drawn thither against my will.
+I found myself retracing my steps, mounting the long stairs, passing the
+same people, who streamed along with no recognition of me, as I desired
+nothing to do with them; and at last found myself within the same four
+blank walls as before.
+
+Soon after I returned I became conscious of measured steps passing the
+door, and of an eye upon me. I can say no more than this. From what point
+it was that I was inspected I cannot tell; but that I was inspected,
+closely scrutinized by some one, and that not only externally, but by a
+cold observation that went through and through me, I knew and felt beyond
+any possibility of mistake. This recurred from time to time, horribly, at
+uncertain moments, so that I never felt myself secure from it. I knew
+when the watcher was coming by tremors and shiverings through all my
+being; and no sensation so unsupportable has it ever been mine to bear.
+How much that is to say, no one can tell who has not gone through those
+regions of darkness, and learned what is in all their abysses. I tried at
+first to hide, to fling myself on the floor, to cover my face, to burrow
+in a dark corner. Useless attempts! The eyes that looked in upon me had
+powers beyond my powers. I felt sometimes conscious of the derisive smile
+with which my miserable subterfuges were regarded. They were all in vain.
+
+And what was still more strange was that I had not energy to think of
+attempting any escape. My steps, though watched, were not restrained in
+any way, so far as I was aware. The gates of the city stood open on all
+sides, free to those who went as well as to those who came; but I did not
+think of flight. Of flight! Whence should I go from myself? Though that
+horrible inspection was from the eyes of some unseen being, it was in
+some mysterious way connected with my own thinking and reflections, so
+that the thought came ever more and more strongly upon me, that from
+myself I could never escape. And that reflection took all energy, all
+impulse from me. I might have gone away when I pleased, beyond reach of
+the authority which regulated everything,--how one should walk, where
+one should live,--but never from my own consciousness. On the other side
+of the town lay a great plain, traversed by roads on every side. There
+was no reason why I should not continue my journey there; but I did not.
+I had no wish nor any power in me to go away.
+
+In one of my long, dreary, companionless walks, unshared by any human
+fellowship, I saw at last a face which I remembered; it was that of the
+cynical spectator who had spoken to me in the noisy street, in the
+midst of my early experiences. He gave a glance round him to see that
+there were no officials in sight, then left the file in which he was
+walking, and joined me. 'Ah!' he said, 'you are here already,' with the
+same derisive smile with which he had before regarded me. I hated the
+man and his sneer, yet that he should speak to me was something, almost
+a pleasure.
+
+'Yes,' said I, 'I am here.' Then, after a pause, in which I did not know
+what to say, 'It is quiet here,' I said.
+
+'Quiet enough. Do you like it better for that? To do whatever you please
+with no one to interfere; or to do nothing you please, but as you are
+forced to do it,--which do you think is best?'
+
+I felt myself instinctively glance round, as he had done, to make sure
+that no one was in sight. Then I answered, faltering, 'I have always held
+that law and order were necessary things; and the lawlessness of
+that--that place--I don't know its name--if there is such a place,' I
+cried, 'I thought it was a dream.'
+
+He laughed in his mocking way. 'Perhaps it is all a dream; who knows?' he
+said.
+
+'Sir,' said I, 'you have been longer here than I--'
+
+'Oh,' cried he, with a laugh that was dry and jarred upon the air almost
+like a shriek, 'since before your forefathers were born!' It seemed to me
+that he spoke like one who, out of bitterness and despite, made every
+darkness blacker still. A kind of madman in his way; for what was this
+claim of age?--a piece of bravado, no doubt, like the rest.
+
+'That is strange,' I said, assenting, as when there is such a
+hallucination it is best to do. 'You can tell me, then, whence all this
+authority comes, and why we are obliged to obey.'
+
+He looked at me as if he were thinking in his mind how to hurt me most.
+Then, with that dry laugh, 'We make trial of all things in this world,'
+he said, 'to see if perhaps we can find something we shall
+like.--discipline here, freedom in the other place. When you have gone
+all the round like me, then perhaps you will be able to choose.'
+
+'Have you chosen?' I asked.
+
+He only answered with a laugh. 'Come,' he said, 'there is amusement to be
+had too, and that of the most elevated kind. We make researches here into
+the moral nature of man. Will you come? But you must take the risk,' he
+added with a smile which afterwards I understood.
+
+We went on together after this till we reached the centre of the place,
+in which stood an immense building with a dome, which dominated the city,
+and into a great hall in the centre of that, where a crowd of people were
+assembled. The sound of human speech, which murmured all around, brought
+new life to my heart. And as I gazed at a curious apparatus erected on a
+platform, several people spoke to me.
+
+'We have again,' said one, 'the old subject to-day.'
+
+'Is it something about the constitution of the place?' I asked in the
+bewilderment of my mind. My neighbors looked at me with alarm, glancing
+behind them to see what officials might be near.
+
+'The constitution of the place is the result of the sense of the
+inhabitants that order must be preserved,' said the one, who had spoken
+to me first. 'The lawless can find refuge in other places. Here we have
+chosen to have supervision, nuisances removed, and order kept. That is
+enough. The constitution is not under discussion.'
+
+'But man is,' said a second speaker. 'Let us keep to that in which we can
+mend nothing. Sir, you may have to contribute your quota to our
+enlightenment. We are investigating the rise of thought. You are a
+stranger; you may be able to help us.'
+
+'I am no philosopher,' I said with a panic which I could not explain
+to myself.
+
+'That does not matter. You are a fresh subject.' The speaker made a
+slight movement with his hand, and I turned round to escape in wild,
+sudden fright, though I had no conception what could be done to me; but
+the crowd had pressed close round me, hemming one in on every side. I was
+so wildly alarmed that I struggled among them, pushing backwards with all
+my force, and clearing a space round me with my arms; but my efforts were
+vain. Two of the officers suddenly appeared out of the crowd, and
+seizing me by the arms, forced me forwards. The throng dispersed before
+them on either side, and I was half dragged, half lifted up upon the
+platform, where stood the strange apparatus which I had contemplated with
+a dull wonder when I came into the hall. My wonder did not last long. I
+felt myself fixed in it, standing supported in that position by bands and
+springs, so that no effort of mine was necessary to hold myself up, and
+none possible to release myself. I was caught by every joint, sustained,
+supported, exposed to the gaze of what seemed a world of upturned faces;
+among which I saw, with a sneer upon it, keeping a little behind the
+crowd, the face of the man who had led me here. Above my head was a
+strong light, more brilliant than anything I had ever seen, and which
+blazed upon my brain till the hair seemed to singe and the skin shrink. I
+hope I may never feel such a sensation again. The pitiless light went
+into me like a knife; but even my cries were stopped by the framework in
+which I was bound. I could breathe and suffer, but that was all.
+
+Then some one got up on the platform above me and began to speak. He
+said, so far as I could comprehend in the anguish and torture in which I
+was held, that the origin of thought was the question he was
+investigating, but that in every previous subject the confusion of ideas
+had bewildered them, and the rapidity with which one followed another.
+'The present example has been found to exhibit great persistency of
+idea,' he said. 'We hope that by his means some clearer theory may be
+arrived at.' Then he pulled over me a great movable lens as of a
+microscope, which concentrated the insupportable light. The wild,
+hopeless passion that raged within my soul had no outlet in the immovable
+apparatus that held me. I was let down among the crowd, and exhibited to
+them every secret movement of my being, by some awful process which I
+have never fathomed. A burning fire was in my brain; flame seemed to run
+along all my nerves; speechless, horrible, incommunicable fury raged in
+my soul. But I was like a child--nay, like an image of wood or wax--in
+the pitiless hands that held me. What was the cut of a surgeon's knife to
+this? And I had thought _that_ cruel! And I was powerless, and could do
+nothing--to blast, to destroy, to burn with this same horrible flame the
+fiends that surrounded me, as I desired to do.
+
+Suddenly, in the raging fever of my thoughts, there surged up the
+recollection of that word which had paralyzed all around, and myself
+with them. The thought that I must share the anguish did not restrain me
+from my revenge. With a tremendous effort I got my voice, though the
+instrument pressed upon my lips. I know not what I articulated save
+'God,' whether it was a curse or a blessing. I had been swung out into
+the middle of the hall, and hung amid the crowd, exposed to all their
+observations, when I succeeded in gaining utterance. My God! my God!
+Another moment and I had forgotten them and all my fury in the tortures
+that arose within myself. What, then, was the light that racked my brain?
+Once more my life from its beginning to its end rose up before me,--each
+scene like a spectre, like the harpies of the old fables rending me with
+tooth and claw. Once more I saw what might have been, the noble things I
+might have done, the happiness I had lost, the turnings of the fated road
+which I might have taken,--everything that was once so possible, so
+possible, so easy! but now possible no more. My anguish was immeasurable;
+I turned and wrenched myself, in the strength of pain, out of the
+machinery that held me, and fell down, down among all the curses that
+were being hurled at me,--among the horrible and miserable crowd. I had
+brought upon them the evil which I shared, and they fell upon me with a
+fury which was like that which had prompted myself a few minutes before;
+but they could do nothing to me so tremendous as the vengeance I had
+taken upon them. I was too miserable to feel the blows that rained upon
+me, but presently I suppose I lost consciousness altogether, being almost
+torn to pieces by the multitude.
+
+While this lasted, it seemed to me that I had a dream. I felt the blows
+raining down upon me, and my body struggling upon the ground; and yet
+it seemed to me that I was lying outside upon the ground, and above me
+the pale sky which never brightened at the touch of the sun. And I
+thought that dull, persistent cloud wavered and broke for an instant,
+and that I saw behind a glimpse of that blue which is heaven when we
+are on the earth--the blue sky--which is nowhere to be seen but in the
+mortal life; which is heaven enough, which is delight enough, for those
+who can look up to it, and feel themselves in the land of hope. It
+might be but a dream; in this strange world who could tell what was
+vision and what was true?
+
+The next thing I remember was that I found myself lying on the floor of
+a great room full of people with every kind of disease and deformity,
+some pale with sickness, some with fresh wounds, the lame, and the
+maimed, and the miserable. They lay round me in every attitude of pain,
+many with sores, some bleeding, with broken limbs, but all struggling,
+some on hands and knees, dragging themselves up from the ground to stare
+at me. They roused in my mind a loathing and sense of disgust which it is
+impossible to express. I could scarcely tolerate the thought that I--I!
+should be forced to remain a moment in this lazar-house. The feeling with
+which I had regarded the miserable creature who shared the corner of the
+wall with me, and who had cursed me for being sorry for him, had
+altogether gone out of my mind. I called out, to whom I know not,
+adjuring some one to open the door and set me free; but my cry was
+answered only by a shout from my companions in trouble. 'Who do you think
+will let you out?' 'Who is going to help you more than the rest?' My
+whole body was racked with pain; I could not move from the floor, on
+which I lay. I had to put up with the stares of the curious, and the
+mockeries and remarks on me of whoever chose to criticise. Among them
+was the lame man whom I had seen thrust in by the two officers who had
+taken me from the gate. He was the first to jibe. 'But for him they would
+never have seen me,' he said. 'I should have been well by this time in
+the fresh air.' 'It is his turn now,' said another. I turned my head as
+well as I could and spoke to them all.
+
+'I am a stranger here,' I cried. 'They have made my brain burn with their
+experiments. Will nobody help me? It is no fault of mine, it is their
+fault. If I am to be left here uncared for, I shall die.'
+
+At this a sort of dreadful chuckle ran round the place. 'If that is what
+you are afraid of, you will not die,' somebody said, touching me on my
+head in a way which gave me intolerable pain. 'Don't touch me,' I cried.
+'Why shouldn't I?' said the other, and pushed me again upon the throbbing
+brain. So far as my sensations went, there were no coverings at all,
+neither skull nor skin upon the intolerable throbbing of my head, which
+had been exposed to the curiosity of the crowd, and every touch was
+agony; but my cry brought no guardian, nor any defence or soothing. I
+dragged myself into a corner after a time, from which some other wretch
+had been rolled out in the course of a quarrel; and as I found that
+silence was the only policy, I kept silent, with rage consuming my heart.
+
+Presently I discovered by means of the new arrivals which kept coming in,
+hurled into the midst of us without thought or question, that this was
+the common fate of all who were repulsive to the sight, or who had any
+weakness or imperfection which offended the eyes of the population. They
+were tossed in among us, not to be healed, or for repose or safety, but
+to be out of sight, that they might not disgust or annoy those who were
+more fortunate, to whom no injury had happened; and because in their
+sickness and imperfection they were of no use in the studies of the
+place, and disturbed the good order of the streets. And there they lay
+one above another,--a mass of bruised and broken creatures, most of them
+suffering from injuries which they had sustained in what would have been
+called in other regions the service of the State. They had served like
+myself as objects of experiments. They had fallen from heights where they
+had been placed in illustration of some theory. They had been tortured or
+twisted to give satisfaction to some question. And then, that the
+consequences of these proceedings might offend no one's eyes, they were
+flung into this receptacle, to be released if chance or strength enabled
+them to push their way out when others were brought in, or when their
+importunate knocking wearied some watchman, and brought him angry and
+threatening to hear what was wanted. The sound of this knocking against
+the door, and of the cries that accompanied it, and the rush towards the
+opening when any one was brought in, caused a hideous continuous noise
+and scuffle which was agony to my brain. Every one pushed before the
+other; there was an endless rising and falling as in the changes of a
+feverish dream, each man as he got strength to struggle forwards himself,
+thrusting back his neighbors, and those who were nearest to the door
+beating upon it without cease, like the beating of a drum without cadence
+or measure, sometimes a dozen passionate hands together, making a
+horrible din and riot. As I lay unable to join in that struggle, and
+moved by rage unspeakable towards all who could, I reflected strangely
+that I had never heard when outside this horrible continual appeal of the
+suffering. In the streets of the city, as I now reflected, quiet reigned.
+I had even made comparisons on my first entrance, in the moment of
+pleasant anticipation which came over me, of the happy stillness here
+with the horror and tumult of that place of unrule which I had left.
+
+When my thoughts reached this point I was answered by the voice of some
+one on a level with myself, lying helpless like me on the floor of the
+lazar-house. 'They have taken their precautions,' he said; 'if they will
+not endure the sight of suffering, how should they hear the sound of it?
+Every cry is silenced there.'
+
+'I wish they could be silenced within too,' I cried savagely; 'I would
+make them dumb had I the power.'
+
+'The spirit of the place is in you,' said the other voice.
+
+'And not in you?' I said, raising my head, though every movement was
+agony; but this pretence of superiority was more than I could bear.
+
+The other made no answer for a moment; then he said faintly, 'If it is
+so, it is but for greater misery.'
+
+And then his voice died away, and the hubbub of beating and crying and
+cursing and groaning filled all the echoes. They cried, but no one
+listened to them. They thundered on the door, but in vain. They
+aggravated all their pangs in that mad struggle to get free. After a
+while my companion, whoever he was, spoke again.
+
+'They would rather,' he said, 'lie on the roadside to be kicked and
+trodden on, as we have seen; though to see that made you miserable.'
+
+'Made me miserable! You mock me,' I said. 'Why should a man be miserable
+save for suffering of his own?'
+
+'You thought otherwise once,' my neighbor said.
+
+And then I remembered the wretch in the corner of the wall in the
+other town, who had cursed me for pitying him. I cursed myself now for
+that folly. Pity him! was he not better off than I? 'I wish,' I cried,
+'that I could crush them into nothing, and be rid of this infernal
+noise they make!'
+
+'The spirit of the place has entered into you,' said that voice.
+
+I raised my arm to strike him; but my hand fell on the stone floor
+instead, and sent a jar of new pain all through my battered frame. And
+then I mastered my rage and lay still, for I knew there was no way but
+this of recovering my strength,--the strength with which, when I got it
+back, I would annihilate that reproachful voice and crush the life out of
+those groaning fools, whose cries and impotent struggles I could not
+endure. And we lay a long time without moving, with always that tumult
+raging in our ears. At last there came into my mind a longing to hear
+spoken words again. I said, 'Are you still there?'
+
+'I shall be here,' he said, 'till I am able to begin again.'
+
+'To begin! Is there here, then, either beginning or ending? Go on; speak
+to me; it makes me a little forget my pain.'
+
+'I have a fire in my heart,' he said; 'I must begin and begin--till
+perhaps I find the way.'
+
+'What way?' I cried, feverish and eager; for though I despised him, yet
+it made me wonder to think that he should speak riddles which I could not
+understand.
+
+He answered very faintly, 'I do not know.' The fool! then it was only
+folly, as from the first I knew it was. I felt then that I could treat
+him roughly, after the fashion of the place--which he said had got into
+me. 'Poor wretch!' I said, 'you have hopes, have you? Where have you come
+from? You might have learned better before now.'
+
+'I have come,' he said, 'from where we met before. I have come by the
+valley of gold. I have worked in the mines. I have served in the troops
+of those who are masters there. I have lived in this town of tyrants, and
+lain in this lazar-house before. Everything has happened to me, more and
+worse than you dream of.'
+
+'And still you go on? I would dash my head against the wall and die.'
+
+'When will you learn,' he said with a strange tone in his voice, which,
+though no one had been listening to us, made a sudden silence for a
+moment, it was so strange; it moved me like that glimmer of the blue
+sky in my dream, and roused all the sufferers round with an
+expectation--though I know not what. The cries stopped; the hands beat no
+longer. I think all the miserable crowd were still, and turned to where
+he lay. 'When will you learn--that you have died, and can die no more?'
+
+There was a shout of fury all around me. 'Is that all you have to say?'
+the crowd burst forth; and I think they rushed upon him and killed him,
+for I heard no more until the hubbub began again more wild than ever,
+with furious hands beating, beating against the locked door.
+
+After a while I began to feel my strength come back. I raised my head. I
+sat up. I began to see the faces of those around me, and the groups
+into which they gathered; the noise was no longer so insupportable,--my
+racked nerves were regaining health. It was with a mixture of pleasure
+and despair that I became conscious of this. I had been through many
+deaths; but I did not die, perhaps could not, as that man had said. I
+looked about for him, to see if he had contradicted his own theory. But
+he was not dead. He was lying close to me, covered with wounds; but he
+opened his eyes, and something like a smile came upon his lips. A
+smile,--I had heard laughter, and seen ridicule and derision, but this I
+had not seen. I could not bear it. To seize him and shake the little
+remaining life out of him was my impulse; but neither did I obey that.
+Again he reminded me of my dream--was it a dream?--of the opening in the
+clouds. From that moment I tried to shelter him, and as I grew stronger
+and stronger and pushed my way to the door, I dragged him along with me.
+How long the struggle was I cannot tell, or how often I was balked, or
+how many darted through before me when the door was opened. But I
+did not let him go; and at last, for now I was as strong as
+before,--stronger than most about me,--I got out into the air and
+brought him with me. Into the air! it was an atmosphere so still and
+motionless that there was no feeling of life in it, as I have said; but
+the change seemed to me happiness for the moment. It was freedom. The
+noise of the struggle was over; the horrible sights were left behind. My
+spirit sprang up as if I had been born into new life. It had the same
+effect, I suppose, upon my companion, though he was much weaker than I,
+for he rose to his feet at once with almost a leap of eagerness, and
+turned instantaneously towards the other side of the city.
+
+'Not that way,' I said; 'come with me and rest.'
+
+'No rest--no rest--my rest is to go on;' and then he turned towards me
+and smiled and said, 'Thanks'--looking into my face. What a word to hear!
+I had not heard it since--A rush of strange and sweet and dreadful
+thoughts came into my mind. I shrank and trembled, and let go his arm,
+which I had been holding; but when I left that hold I seemed to fall back
+into depths of blank pain and longing. I put out my hand again and caught
+him. 'I will go,' I said, 'where you go.'
+
+A pair of the officials of the place passed as I spoke. They looked at
+me with a threatening glance, and half paused, but then passed on. It
+was I now who hurried my companion along. I recollected him now. He
+was a man who had met me in the streets of the other city when I was
+still ignorant, who had convulsed me with the utterance of that name
+which, in all this world where we were, is never named but for
+punishment,--the name which I had named once more in the great hall in
+the midst of my torture, so that all who heard me were transfixed with
+that suffering too. He had been haggard then, but he was more haggard
+now. His features were sharp with continual pain; his eyes were wild
+with weakness and trouble, though there was a meaning in them which
+went to my heart. It seemed to me that in his touch there was a certain
+help, though he was weak and tottered, and every moment seemed full of
+suffering. Hope sprang up in my mind,--the hope that where he was so
+eager to go there would be something better, a life more livable than
+in this place. In every new place there is new hope. I was not worn out
+of that human impulse. I forgot the nightmare which had crushed me
+before,--the horrible sense that from myself there was no escape,--and
+holding fast to his arm, I hurried on with him, not heeding where. We
+went aside into less frequented streets, that we might escape
+observation. I seemed to myself the guide, though I was the follower.
+A great faith in this man sprang up in my breast. I was ready to go
+with him wherever he went, anywhere--anywhere must be better than this.
+Thus I pushed him on, holding by his arm, till we reached the very
+outmost limits of the city. Here he stood still for a moment, turning
+upon me, and took me by the hands.
+
+'Friend,' he said, 'before you were born into the pleasant earth I had
+come here. I have gone all the weary round. Listen to one who knows: all
+is harder, harder, as you go on. You are stirred to go on by the
+restlessness in your heart, and each new place you come to, the spirit of
+that place enters into you. You are better here than you will be farther
+on. You were better where you were at first, or even in the mines, than
+here. Come no farther. Stay; unless--' but here his voice gave way. He
+looked at me with anxiety in his eyes, and said no more.
+
+'Then why,' I cried, 'do you go on? Why do you not stay?'
+
+He shook his head, and his eyes grew more and more soft. 'I am going,' he
+said, and his voice shook again. 'I am going--to try--the most awful and
+the most dangerous journey--' His voice died away altogether, and he only
+looked at me to say the rest.
+
+'A journey? Where?'
+
+I can tell no man what his eyes said. I understood, I cannot tell how;
+and with trembling all my limbs seemed to drop out of joint and my face
+grow moist with terror. I could not speak any more than he, but with my
+lips shaped, How? The awful thought made a tremor in the very air around.
+He shook his head slowly as he looked at me, his eyes, all circled with
+deep lines, looking out of caves of anguish and anxiety; and then I
+remembered how he had said, and I had scoffed at him, that the way he
+sought was one he did not know. I had dropped his hands in my fear; and
+yet to leave him seemed dragging the heart out of my breast, for none but
+he had spoken to me like a brother, had taken my hand and thanked me. I
+looked out across the plain, and the roads seemed tranquil and still.
+There was a coolness in the air. It looked like evening, as if somewhere
+in those far distances there might be a place where a weary soul might
+rest; and I looked behind me, and thought what I had suffered, and
+remembered the lazar-house and the voices that cried and the hands that
+beat against the door, and also the horrible quiet of the room in which I
+lived, and the eyes which looked in at me and turned my gaze upon myself.
+Then I rushed after him, for he had turned to go on upon his way, and
+caught at his clothes, crying, 'Behold me, behold me! I will go too!'
+
+He reached me his hand and went on without a word; and I with terror
+crept after him, treading in his steps, following like his shadow. What
+it was to walk with another, and follow, and be at one, is more than I
+can tell; but likewise my heart failed me for fear, for dread of what we
+might encounter, and of hearing that name or entering that presence which
+was more terrible than all torture. I wondered how it could be that one
+should willingly face _that_ which racked the soul, and how he had
+learned that it was possible, and where he had heard of the way. And as
+we went on I said no word, for he began to seem to me a being of another
+kind, a figure full of awe; and I followed as one might follow a ghost.
+Where would he go? Were we not fixed here forever, where our lot had been
+cast? And there were still many other great cities where there might be
+much to see, and something to distract the mind, and where it might be
+more possible to live than it had proved in the other places. There might
+be no tyrants there, nor cruelty, nor horrible noises, nor dreadful
+silence. Towards the right hand, across the plain, there seemed to rise
+out of the gray distance a cluster of towers and roofs like another
+habitable place; and who could tell that something better might not be
+there? Surely everything could not turn to torture and misery. I dragged
+on behind him, with all these thoughts hurrying through my mind. He was
+going--I dare to say it now, though I did not dare then--to seek out a
+way to God; to try, if it was possible, to find the road that led
+back,--that road which had been open once to all. But for me, I trembled
+at the thought of that road. I feared the name, which was as the plunging
+of a sword into my inmost parts. All things could be borne but that. I
+dared not even think upon that name. To feel my hand in another man's
+hand was much, but to be led into that awful presence, by awful ways,
+which none knew--how could I bear it? My spirits failed me, and my
+strength. My hand became loose in his hand; he grasped me still, but my
+hold failed, and ever with slower and slower steps I followed, while he
+seemed to acquire strength with every winding of the way. At length he
+said to me, looking back upon me, 'I cannot stop; but your heart falls
+you. Shall I loose my hand and let you go?'
+
+'I am afraid; I am afraid!' I cried.
+
+'And I too am afraid; but it is better to suffer more and to escape than
+to suffer less and to remain.'
+
+'Has it ever been known that one escaped? No one has ever escaped. This
+is our place,' I said; 'there is no other world.'
+
+'There are other worlds; there is a world where every way leads to One
+who loves us still.'
+
+I cried out with a great cry of misery and scorn. 'There is no
+love!' I said.
+
+He stood still for a moment and turned and looked at me. His eyes seemed
+to melt my soul. A great cloud passed over them, as in the pleasant earth
+a cloud will sweep across the moon; and then the light came out and
+looked at me again, for neither did he know. Where he was going all might
+end in despair and double and double pain. But if it were possible that
+at the end there should be found that for which he longed, upon which his
+heart was set! He said with a faltering voice, 'Among all whom I have
+questioned and seen, there was but one who found the way. But if one has
+found it, so may I. If you will not come, yet let me go.'
+
+'They will tear you limb from limb; they will burn you in the endless
+fires,' I said. But what is it to be torn limb from limb, or burned with
+fire? There came upon his face a smile, and in my heart even I laughed to
+scorn what I had said.
+
+'If I were dragged every nerve apart, and every thought turned into a
+fiery dart,--and that is so,' he said,--'yet will I go, if but perhaps I
+may see Love at the end.'
+
+'There is no love!' I cried again with a sharp and bitter cry; and the
+echo seemed to come back and back from every side, No love! no love! till
+the man who was my friend faltered and stumbled like a drunken man; but
+afterwards he recovered strength and resumed his way.
+
+And thus once more we went on. On the right hand was that city, growing
+ever clearer, with noble towers rising up to the sky, and battlements and
+lofty roofs, and behind a yellow clearness, as of a golden sunset. My
+heart drew me there; it sprang up in my breast and sang in my ears, Come,
+and come. Myself invited me to this new place as to a home. The others
+were wretched, but this will be happy,--delights and pleasures will be
+there. And before us the way grew dark with storms, and there grew
+visible among the mists a black line of mountains, perpendicular cliffs,
+and awful precipices, which seemed to bar the way. I turned from that
+line of gloomy heights, and gazed along the path to where the towers
+stood up against the sky. And presently my hand dropped by my side, that
+had been held in my companion's hand; and I saw him no more.
+
+I went on to the city of the evening light. Ever and ever, as I proceeded
+on my way, the sense of haste and restless impatience grew upon me, so
+that I felt myself incapable of remaining long in a place, and my desire
+grew stronger to hasten on and on; but when I entered the gates of the
+city this longing vanished from my mind. There seemed some great festival
+or public holiday going on there. The streets were full of
+pleasure-parties, and in every open place (of which there were many) were
+bands of dancers, and music playing; and the houses about were hung with
+tapestries and embroideries and garlands of flowers. A load seemed to be
+taken from my spirit when I saw all this,--for a whole population does
+not rejoice in such a way without some cause. And to think that after
+all I had found a place in which I might live and forget the misery and
+pain which I had known, and all that was behind me, was delightful to my
+soul. It seemed to me that all the dancers were beautiful and young,
+their steps went gayly to the music, their faces were bright with smiles.
+Here and there was a master of the feast, who arranged the dances and
+guided the musicians, yet seemed to have a look and smile for new-comers
+too. One of these came forwards to meet me, and received me with a
+welcome, and showed me a vacant place at the table, on which were
+beautiful fruits piled up in baskets, and all the provisions for a meal.
+'You were expected, you perceive,' he said. A delightful sense of
+well-being came into my mind. I sat down in the sweetness of ease after
+fatigue, of refreshment after weariness, of pleasant sounds and sights
+after the arid way. I said to myself that my past experiences had been a
+mistake, that this was where I ought to have come from the first, that
+life here would be happy, and that all intruding thoughts must soon
+vanish and die away.
+
+After I had rested, I strolled about, and entered fully into the
+pleasures of the place. Wherever I went, through all the city, there was
+nothing but brightness and pleasure, music playing, and flags waving, and
+flowers and dancers and everything that was most gay. I asked several
+people whom I met what was the cause of the rejoicing; but either they
+were too much occupied with their own pleasures, or my question was lost
+in the hum of merriment, the sound of the instruments and of the dancers'
+feet. When I had seen as much as I desired of the pleasure out of doors,
+I was taken by some to see the interiors of houses, which were all
+decorated for this festival, whatever it was, lighted up with curious
+varieties of lighting, in tints of different colors. The doors and
+windows were all open; and whosoever would could come in from the dance
+or from the laden tables, and sit down where they pleased and rest,
+always with a pleasant view out upon the streets, so that they should
+lose nothing of the spectacle. And the dresses, both of women and men,
+were beautiful in form and color, made in the finest fabrics, and
+affording delightful combinations to the eye. The pleasure which I took
+in all I saw and heard was enhanced by the surprise of it, and by the
+aspect of the places from which I had come, where there was no regard to
+beauty nor anything lovely or bright. Before my arrival here I had come
+in my thoughts to the conclusion that life had no brightness in these
+regions, and that whatever occupation or study there might be, pleasure
+had ended and was over, and everything that had been sweet in the former
+life. I changed that opinion with a sense of relief, which was more warm
+even than the pleasure of the present moment; for having made one such
+mistake, how could I tell that there were not more discoveries awaiting
+me, that life might not prove more endurable, might not rise to something
+grander and more powerful? The old prejudices, the old foregone
+conclusion of earth that this was a world of punishment, had warped my
+vision and my thoughts. With so many added faculties of being, incapable
+of fatigue as we were, incapable of death, recovering from every wound or
+accident as I had myself done, and with no foolish restraint as to what
+we should or should not do, why might not we rise in this land to
+strength unexampled, to the highest powers? I rejoiced that I had dropped
+my companion's hand, that I had not followed him in his mad quest.
+Sometime, I said to myself, I would make a pilgrimage to the foot of
+those gloomy mountains, and bring him back, all racked and tortured as
+he was, and show him the pleasant place which he had missed.
+
+In the mean time the music and the dance went on. But it began to
+surprise me a little that there was no pause, that the festival continued
+without intermission. I went up to one of those who seemed the masters of
+ceremony, directing what was going on. He was an old man, with a flowing
+robe of brocade, and a chain and badge which denoted his office. He stood
+with a smile upon his lips, beating time with his hand to the music,
+watching the figure of the dance.
+
+'I can get no one to tell me,' I said, 'what the occasion of all this
+rejoicing is.'
+
+'It is for your coming,' he replied without hesitation, with a smile
+and a bow.
+
+For the moment a wonderful elation came over me. 'For my coming!' But
+then I paused and shook my head. 'There are others coming besides me.
+See! they arrive every moment.'
+
+'It is for their coming too,' he said with another smile and a still
+deeper bow; 'but you are the first as you are the chief.'
+
+This was what I could not understand; but it was pleasant to hear, and I
+made no further objection. 'And how long will it go on?' I said.
+
+'So long as it pleases you,' said the old courtier.
+
+How he smiled! His smile did not please me. He saw this, and distracted
+my attention. 'Look at this dance,' he said; 'how beautiful are those
+round young limbs! Look how the dress conceals yet shows the form and
+beautiful movements! It was invented in your honor. All that is lovely
+is for you. Choose where you will, all is yours. We live only for this;
+all is for you.' While he spoke, the dancers came nearer and nearer till
+they circled us round, and danced and made their pretty obeisances, and
+sang, 'All is yours; all is for you;' then breaking their lines, floated
+away in other circles and processions and endless groups, singing and
+laughing till it seemed to ring from every side, 'Everything is yours;
+all is for you.'
+
+I accepted this flattery I know not why, for I soon became aware that I
+was no more than others, and that the same words were said to every
+new-comer. Yet my heart was elated, and I threw myself into all that was
+set before me. But there was always in my mind an expectation that
+presently the music and the dancing would cease, and the tables be
+withdrawn, and a pause come. At one of the feasts I was placed by the
+side of a lady very fair and richly dressed, but with a look of great
+weariness in her eyes. She turned her beautiful face to me, not with any
+show of pleasure, and there was something like compassion in her look.
+She said, 'You are very tired,' as she made room for me by her side.
+
+'Yes,' I said, though with surprise, for I had not yet acknowledged
+that even to myself. 'There is so much to enjoy. We have need of a
+little rest.'
+
+'Of rest!' said she, shaking her head, 'this is not the place for rest.'
+
+'Yet pleasure requires it,' I said, 'as much as--' I was about to say
+pain; but why should one speak of pain in a place given up to
+pleasure? She smiled faintly and shook her head again. All her
+movements were languid and faint; her eyelids drooped over her eyes.
+Yet when I turned to her, she made an effort to smile. 'I think you
+are also tired,' I said.
+
+At this she roused herself a little. 'We must not say so; nor do I say
+so. Pleasure is very exacting. It demands more of you than anything else.
+One must be always ready--'
+
+'For what?'
+
+'To give enjoyment and to receive it.' There was an effort in her voice
+to rise to this sentiment, but it fell back into weariness again.
+
+'I hope you receive as well as give,' I said.
+
+The lady turned her eyes to me with a look which I cannot forget, and
+life seemed once more to be roused within her, but not the life of
+pleasure; her eyes were full of loathing and fatigue and disgust and
+despair. 'Are you so new to this place,' she said, 'and have not learned
+even yet what is the height of all misery and all weariness; what is
+worse than pain and trouble, more dreadful than the lawless streets and
+the burning mines, and the torture of the great hall and the misery of
+the lazar-house--'
+
+'Oh, lady,' I said, 'have you been there?'
+
+She answered me with her eyes alone; there was no need of more. 'But
+pleasure is more terrible than all,' she said; and I knew in my heart
+that what she said was true.
+
+There is no record of time in that place. I could not count it by days or
+nights; but soon after this it happened to me that the dances and the
+music became no more than a dizzy maze of sound and sight which made my
+brain whirl round and round, and I too loathed what was spread on the
+table, and the soft couches, and the garlands, and the fluttering flags
+and ornaments. To sit forever at a feast, to see forever the merrymakers
+turn round and round, to hear in your ears forever the whirl of the
+music, the laughter, the cries of pleasure! There were some who went on
+and on, and never seemed to tire; but to me the endless round came at
+last to be a torture from which I could not escape. Finally, I could
+distinguish nothing,--neither what I heard nor what I saw; and only a
+consciousness of something intolerable buzzed and echoed in my brain. I
+longed for the quiet of the place I had left; I longed for the noise in
+the streets, and the hubbub and tumult of my first experiences. Anything,
+anything rather than this! I said to myself; and still the dancers
+turned, the music sounded, the bystanders smiled, and everything went on
+and on. My eyes grew weary with seeing, and my ears with hearing. To
+watch the new-comers rush in, all pleased and eager, to see the eyes of
+the others glaze with weariness, wrought upon my strained nerves. I could
+not think, I could not rest, I could not endure. Music forever and
+ever,--a whirl, a rush of music, always going on and on; and ever that
+maze of movement, till the eyes were feverish and the mouth parched;
+ever that mist of faces, now one gleaming out of the chaos, now another,
+some like the faces of angels, some miserable, weary, strained with
+smiling, with the monotony, and the endless, aimless, never-changing
+round. I heard myself calling to them to be still--to be still! to pause
+a moment. I felt myself stumble and turn round in the giddiness and
+horror of that movement without repose. And finally, I fell under the
+feet of the crowd, and felt the whirl go over and over me, and beat upon
+my brain, until I was pushed and thrust out of the way lest I should
+stop the measure. There I lay, sick, satiate, for I know not how
+long,--loathing everything around me, ready to give all I had (but what
+had I to give?) for one moment of silence. But always the music went on,
+and the dancers danced, and the people feasted, and the songs and the
+voices echoed up to the skies.
+
+How at last I stumbled forth I cannot tell. Desperation must have moved
+me, and that impatience which after every hope and disappointment comes
+back and back,--the one sensation that never fails. I dragged myself at
+last by intervals, like a sick dog, outside the revels, still hearing
+them, which was torture to me, even when at last I got beyond the crowd.
+It was something to lie still upon the ground, though without power to
+move, and sick beyond all thought, loathing myself and all that I had
+been and seen. For I had not even the sense that I had been wronged to
+keep me up, but only a nausea and horror of movement, a giddiness and
+whirl of every sense. I lay like a log upon the ground.
+
+When I recovered my faculties a little, it was to find myself once more
+in the great vacant plain which surrounded that accursed home of
+pleasure,--a great and desolate waste upon which I could see no track,
+which my heart fainted to look at, which no longer roused any hope in me,
+as if it might lead to another beginning, or any place in which yet at
+the last it might be possible to live. As I lay in that horrible
+giddiness and faintness, I loathed life and this continuance which
+brought me through one misery after another, and forbade me to die. Oh
+that death would come,--death, which is silent and still, which makes no
+movement and hears no sound! that I might end and be no more! Oh that I
+could go back even to the stillness of that chamber which I had not been
+able to endure! Oh that I could return,--return! to what? To other
+miseries and other pain, which looked less because they were past. But I
+knew now that return was impossible until I had circled all the dreadful
+round; and already I felt again the burning of that desire that pricked
+and drove me on,--not back, for that was impossible. Little by little I
+had learned to understand, each step printed upon my brain as with
+red-hot irons: not back, but on, and on--to greater anguish, yes; but on,
+to fuller despair, to experiences more terrible,--but on, and on, and on.
+I arose again, for this was my fate. I could not pause even for all the
+teachings of despair.
+
+The waste stretched far as eyes could see. It was wild and terrible, with
+neither vegetation nor sign of life. Here and there were heaps of ruin,
+which had been villages and cities; but nothing was in them save reptiles
+and crawling poisonous life and traps for the unwary wanderer. How often
+I stumbled and fell among these ashes and dust-heaps of the past! Through
+what dread moments I lay, with cold and slimy things leaving their trace
+upon my flesh! The horrors which seized me, so that I beat my head
+against a stone,--why should I tell? These were nought; they touched not
+the soul. They were but accidents of the way.
+
+At length, when body and soul were low and worn out with misery and
+weariness, I came to another place, where all was so different from the
+last that the sight gave me a momentary solace. It was full of furnaces
+and clanking machinery and endless work. The whole air round was aglow
+with the fury of the fires; and men went and came like demons in the
+flames, with red-hot melting metal, pouring it into moulds and beating
+it on anvils. In the huge workshops in the background there was a
+perpetual whir of machinery, of wheels turning and turning, and pistons
+beating, and all the din of labor, which for a time renewed the anguish
+of my brain, yet also soothed it,--for there was meaning in the beatings
+and the whirlings. And a hope rose within me that with all the forces
+that were here, some revolution might be possible,--something that would
+change the features of this place and overturn the worlds. I went from
+workshop to workshop, and examined all that was being done, and
+understood,--for I had known a little upon the earth, and my old
+knowledge came back, and to learn so much more filled me with new life.
+The master of all was one who never rested, nor seemed to feel
+weariness nor pain nor pleasure. He had everything in his hand. All who
+were there were his workmen or his assistants or his servants. No one
+shared with him in his councils. He was more than a prince among them;
+he was as a god. And the things he planned and made, and at which in
+armies and legions his workmen toiled and labored, were like living
+things. They were made of steel and iron, but they moved like the brains
+and nerves of men. They went where he directed them, and did what he
+commanded, and moved at a touch. And though he talked little, when he
+saw how I followed all that he did, he was a little moved towards me,
+and spoke and explained to me the conceptions that were in his mind, one
+rising out of another, like the leaf out of the stem and the flower out
+of the bud. For nothing pleased him that he did, and necessity was upon
+him to go on and on.
+
+'They are like living things,' I said; 'they do your bidding, whatever
+you command them. They are like another and a stronger race of men.'
+
+'Men!' he said, 'what are men? The most contemptible of all things that
+are made,--creatures who will undo in a moment what it has taken
+millions of years, and all the skill and all the strength of generations
+to do. These are better than men. They cannot think or feel. They cannot
+stop but at my bidding, or begin unless I will. Had men been made so, we
+should be masters of the world.'
+
+'Had men been made so, you would never have been,--for what could genius
+have done or thought?--you would have been a machine like all the rest.'
+
+'And better so!' he said, and turned away; for at that moment, watching
+keenly as he spoke the action of a delicate combination of movements, all
+made and balanced to a hair's breadth, there had come to him suddenly the
+idea of something which made it a hundredfold more strong and terrible.
+For they were terrible, these things that lived yet did not live, which
+were his slaves and moved at his will. When he had done this, he looked
+at me, and a smile came upon his mouth; but his eyes smiled not, nor ever
+changed from the set look they wore. And the words he spoke were familiar
+words, not his, but out of the old life. 'What a piece of work is a man!'
+he said; 'how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! in form and
+moving how express and admirable! And yet to me what is this
+quintessence of dust?' His mind had followed another strain of thought,
+which to me was bewildering, so that I did not know how to reply. I
+answered like a child, upon his last word.
+
+'We are dust no more,' I cried, for pride was in my heart,--pride of him
+and his wonderful strength, and his thoughts which created strength, and
+all the marvels he did; 'those things which hindered are removed. Go on;
+go on! you want but another step. What is to prevent that you should not
+shake the universe, and overturn this doom, and break all our bonds?
+There is enough here to explode this gray fiction of a firmament, and to
+rend those precipices, and to dissolve that waste,--as at the time when
+the primeval seas dried up, and those infernal mountains rose.'
+
+He laughed, and the echoes caught the sound and gave it back as if
+they mocked it. 'There is enough to rend us all into shreds,' he said,
+'and shake, as you say, both heaven and earth, and these plains and
+those hills.'
+
+'Then why,' I cried in my haste, with a dreadful hope piercing through my
+soul--'why do you create and perfect, but never employ? When we had
+armies on the earth, we used them. You have more than armies; you have
+force beyond the thoughts of man, but all without use as yet.'
+
+'All,' he cried, 'for no use! All in vain!--in vain!'
+
+'O master!' I said, 'great and more great in time to come, why?--why?'
+
+He took me by the arm and drew me close.
+
+'Have you strength,' he said, 'to bear it if I tell you why?'
+
+I knew what he was about to say. I felt it in the quivering of my veins,
+and my heart that bounded as if it would escape from my breast; but I
+would not quail from what he did not shrink to utter. I could speak no
+word, but I looked him in the face and waited--for that which was more
+terrible than all.
+
+He held me by the arm, as if he would hold me up when the shock of
+anguish came. 'They are in vain,' he said, 'in vain--because God rules
+over all.'
+
+His arm was strong; but I fell at his feet like a dead man.
+
+How miserable is that image, and how unfit to use! Death is still and
+cool and sweet. There is nothing in it that pierces like a sword, that
+burns like fire, that rends and tears like the turning wheels. O life, O
+pain, O terrible name of God in which is all succor and all torment!
+What are pangs and tortures to that, which ever increases in its awful
+power, and has no limit nor any alleviation, but whenever it is spoken
+penetrates through and through the miserable soul? O God, whom once I
+called my Father! O Thou who gavest me being, against whom I have fought,
+whom I fight to the end, shall there never be anything but anguish in the
+sound of Thy great name?
+
+When I returned to such command of myself as one can have who has been
+transfixed by that sword of fire, the master stood by me still. He had
+not fallen like me, but his face was drawn with anguish and sorrow like
+the face of my friend who had been with me in the lazar-house, who had
+disappeared on the dark mountains. And as I looked at him, terror seized
+hold upon me, and a desire to flee and save myself, that I might not be
+drawn after him by the longing that was in his eyes.
+
+The master gave me his hand to help me to rise, and it trembled, but not
+like mine.
+
+'Sir,' I cried, 'have not we enough to bear? Is it for hatred, is it for
+vengeance, that you speak that name?'
+
+'O friend,' he said, 'neither for hatred nor revenge. It is like a fire
+in my veins; if one could find Him again!'
+
+'You, who are as a god, who can make and destroy,--you, who could shake
+His throne!'
+
+He put up his hand. 'I who am His creature, even here--and still His
+child, though I am so far, so far--' He caught my hand in his, and
+pointed with the other trembling. 'Look! your eyes are more clear
+than mine, for they are not anxious like mine. Can you see anything
+upon the way?'
+
+The waste lay wild before us, dark with a faintly-rising cloud, for
+darkness and cloud and the gloom of death attended upon that name. I
+thought, in his great genius and splendor of intellect, he had gone mad,
+as sometimes may be. 'There is nothing,' I said, and scorn came into my
+soul; but even as I spoke I saw--I cannot tell what I saw--a moving spot
+of milky whiteness in that dark and miserable wilderness, no bigger than
+a man's hand, no bigger than a flower. 'There is something,' I said
+unwillingly; 'it has no shape nor form. It is a gossamer-web upon some
+bush, or a butterfly blown on the wind.'
+
+'There are neither butterflies nor gossamers here.'
+
+'Look for yourself, then!' I cried, flinging his hand from me. I was
+angry with a rage which had no cause. I turned from him, though I loved
+him, with a desire to kill him in my heart, and hurriedly took the other
+way. The waste was wild; but rather that than to see the man who might
+have shaken earth and hell thus turning, turning to madness and the awful
+journey. For I knew what in his heart he thought; and I knew that it was
+so. It was something from that other sphere; can I tell you what? A child
+perhaps--O thought that wrings the heart!--for do you know what manner of
+thing a child is? There are none in the land of darkness. I turned my
+back upon the place where that whiteness was. On, on, across the waste!
+On to the cities of the night! On, far away from maddening thought, from
+hope that is torment, and from the awful Name!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The above narrative, though it is necessary to a full understanding of
+the experiences of the Little Pilgrim in the Unseen, does not belong to
+her personal story in any way, but is drawn from the Archives in the
+Heavenly City, where all the records of the human race are laid up.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Pilgrim: Further
+Experiences., by Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10051 ***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #10051 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10051)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences.
+by Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences.
+       Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.
+
+Author: Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
+
+Release Date: November 11, 2003 [EBook #10051]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FURTHER EXPERIENCES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Stan Goodman, Mary Meehan
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+                          THE LITTLE PILGRIM:
+
+                          Further Experiences
+
+                   By Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+THE LITTLE PILGRIM IN THE SEEN AND UNSEEN.
+
+
+The little Pilgrim, whose story has been told in another place, and who
+had arrived but lately on the other side, among those who know trouble
+and sorrow no more, was one whose heart was always full of pity for the
+suffering. And after the first rapture of her arrival, and of the blessed
+work which had been given to her to do, and all the wonderful things she
+had learned of the new life, there returned to her in the midst of her
+happiness so many questions and longing thoughts that They were touched
+by them who have the care of the younger brethren, the simple ones of
+heaven. These questions did not disturb her peace or joy, for she knew
+that which is so often veiled on earth,--that all is accomplished by the
+will of the Father, and that nothing can happen but according to His
+appointment and under His care. And she was also aware that the end
+is as the beginning to Him who knows all, and that nothing is lost that
+is in His hand. But though she would herself have willingly borne the
+sufferings of earth ten times over for the sake of all that was now hers,
+yet it pierced her soul to think of those who were struggling in
+darkness, and whose hearts were stifled within them by all the bitterness
+of the mortal life. Sometimes she would be ready to cry out with wonder
+that the Lord did not hasten His steps and go down again upon the earth
+to make all plain; or how the Father himself could restrain His power,
+and did not send down ten legions of angels to make all that was wrong
+right, and turn all that was mournful into joy.
+
+'It is but for a little time,' said her companions. 'When we have reached
+this place we remember no more the anguish.' 'But to them in their
+trouble it does not seem a little time,' the Pilgrim  said. And in her
+heart there rose a great longing. Oh that He would send me! that I might
+tell my brethren,--not like the poor man in the land of darkness, of the
+gloom and misery of that distant place, but a happier message, of the
+light and brightness of this, and how soon all pain would be over. She
+would not put this into a prayer, for she knew that to refuse a prayer
+is pain to the Father, if in His great glory any pain can be. And then
+she reasoned with herself and said, 'What can I tell them, except that
+all will soon be well? and this they know, for our Lord has said it; but
+I am like them, and I do not understand.'
+
+One fair morning while she turned over these thoughts in her mind there
+suddenly came towards her one whom she knew as a sage, of the number of
+those who know many mysteries and search into the deep things of the
+Father. For a moment she wondered if perhaps he came to reprove her for
+too many questionings, and rose up and advanced a little towards him with
+folded hands and a thankful heart, to receive the reproof if it should be
+so,--for whether it were praise or whether it were blame, it was from the
+Father, and a great honor and happiness to receive. But as he came
+towards her he smiled and bade her not to fear. 'I am come,' he said, 'to
+tell you some things you long to know, and to show you some things that
+are hidden to most. Little sister, you are not to be charged with any
+mission--'
+
+'Oh, no,' she said, 'oh, no. I was not so presuming--'
+
+'It is not presuming to wish to carry comfort to any soul; but it is
+permitted to me to open up to you, so far as I may, some of the secrets.
+The secrets of the Father are all beautiful, but there is sorrow in them
+as well as joy; and Pain, you know, is one of the great angels at the
+door.'
+
+'Is his name Pain? and I took him for Consolation!' the little Pilgrim
+said.
+
+'He is not Consolation; he is the schoolmaster whose face is often stern.
+But I did not come to tell you of him whom you know; I am going to take
+you--back,' the wise man said.
+
+'Back!' She knew what this meant, and a great pleasure, yet mingled with
+fear, came into her mind. She hesitated, and looked at him, and did not
+know how to accept, though she longed to do so, for at the same time she
+was afraid. He smiled when he saw the alarm in her face.
+
+'Do you think,' he said, 'that you are to go this journey on your own
+charges? Had you insisted, as some do, to go at all hazards, you might
+indeed have feared. And even now I cannot promise that you will not feel
+the thorns of the earth as you pass; but you will be cared for, so that
+no harm can come.'
+
+'Ah,' she said wistfully, 'it is not for harm--' and could say nothing
+more.
+
+He laid his hand upon her arm, and he said, 'Do not fear; though they see
+you not, it is yet sweet for a moment to be there, and as you pass, it
+brings thoughts of you to their minds.'
+
+For these two understood each other, and knew that to see and yet not be
+seen is only a pleasure for those who are most like the Father, and can
+love without thought of love in return.
+
+When he touched her, it seemed to the little Pilgrim suddenly that
+everything changed round her, and that she was no longer in her own
+place, but walking along a weary length of road. It was narrow and rough,
+and the skies were dim; and as she went on by the side of her guide she
+saw houses and gardens which were to her like the houses that children
+build, and the little gardens in which they sow seeds and plant flowers,
+and take them up again to see if they are growing. She turned to the
+Sage, saying, 'What are--?' and then stopped and gazed again, and burst
+out into something that was between laughing and tears. 'For it is home,'
+she cried, 'and I did not know it! dear home!' Her heart was remorseful,
+as if she had wounded the little diminished place.
+
+'This is what happens with those who have been living in the king's
+palaces,' he said with a smile.
+
+'But I love it dearly, I love it dearly!' the little Pilgrim said,
+stretching out her hands as if for pardon. He smiled at her, consoling
+her; and then his face changed and grew very grave.
+
+'Little sister,' he said, 'you have come not to see happiness but pain.
+We want no explanation of the joy, for that flows freely from the heart
+of the Father, and all is clear between us and Him; but that which you
+desire to know is why trouble should be. Therefore you must think of Him
+and be strong, for here is what will rend your heart.'
+
+The little Pilgrim was seized once more with mortal fear. 'O friend,' she
+cried, 'I have done with pain. Must I go and see others suffering and do
+nothing for them?'
+
+'If anything comes into your heart to do or say, it will be well for
+them,' the Sage replied: and he took her by the hand and led her into a
+house she knew. She began to know them all now, as her vision became
+accustomed to the atmosphere of the earth. She perceived that the sun was
+shining, though it had appeared so dim, and that it was a clear summer
+morning, very early, with still the colors of the dawn in the east. When
+she went indoors, at first she saw nothing, for the room was darkened,
+the windows all closed, and a miserable watch-light only burning. In the
+bed there lay a child whom she knew. She knew them all,--the mother at
+the bedside, the father near the door, even the nurse who was flitting
+about disturbing the silence. Her heart gave a great throb when she
+recognized them all; and though she had been glad for the first moment to
+think that she had come just in time to give welcome to a little brother
+stepping out of earth into the better country, a shadow of trouble and
+pain enveloped her when she saw the others and remembered and knew. For
+he was their beloved child; on all the earth there was nothing they held
+so dear. They would have given up their home and all they possessed, and
+become poor and homeless and wanderers with joy, if God, as they said,
+would have but spared their child. She saw into their hearts and read all
+this there; and knowing them, she knew it without even that insight.
+Everything they would have given up and rejoiced, if but they might have
+kept him. And there he lay, and was about to die. The little Pilgrim
+forgot all but the pity of it, and their hearts that were breaking, and
+the vacant place that was soon to be. She cried out aloud upon the Father
+with a great cry. She forgot that it was a grief to Him in His great
+glory to refuse.
+
+There came no reply; but the room grew light as with a reflection out of
+heaven, and the child in the bed, who had been moving restlessly in the
+weariness of ending life, turned his head towards her, and his eyes
+opened wide, and he saw her where she stood. He cried out, 'Look! mother,
+mother!' The mother, who was on her knees by the bedside, lifted her head
+and cried, 'What is it, what is it, O my darling?' and the father, who
+had turned away his face not to see the child die, came nearer to the
+bed, hoping they knew not what. Their faces were paler than the face of
+the dying, upon which there was light; but no light came to them out of
+the hidden heaven. 'Look! she has come for me,' he said; but his voice
+was so weak they could not hear him, nor take any comfort. At this the
+little Pilgrim put out her arms to him, forgetting in her joy the poor
+people who were mourning, and cried out, 'Oh, but I must go with him! I
+must take him home!' For this was her own work, and she thought of her
+wonderings and her questions no more.
+
+Some one touched her on the shoulder, and she looked round; and behind
+her was a great company of the dear children from the better country,
+whom the Father had sent, and not her,--lest he should grieve for those
+he had left behind,--to come for the child and show him the way. She
+paused for a moment, scarcely willing to give him up; but then her
+companion touched her and pointed to the other side. Ah, that was
+different! The mother lay by the side of the bed, her face turned only to
+the little white body which her child had dropped from him as he came out
+of his sickness,--her eyes wild with misery, without tears; her feverish
+mouth open, but no cry in it. The sword of the angel had gone through and
+through her. She did not even writhe upon it, but lay motionless, cut
+down, dumb with anguish. The father had turned round again and leaned his
+head upon the wall. All was over,--all over! The love and the hope of a
+dozen lovely years, the little sweet companion, the daily joy, the future
+trust--all--over--as if a child had never been born. Then there rose in
+the stillness a great and exceeding bitter cry, 'God!' that was all,
+pealing up to heaven, to the Father, whom they could not see in their
+anguish, accusing Him, reproaching Him who had done it. Was He their
+enemy that He had done it? No man was ever so wicked, ever so cruel but
+he would have spared them their boy,--taken everything and spared them
+their boy; but God, God! The little Pilgrim stood by and wept. She could
+do nothing but weep, weep, her heart aching with the pity and the
+anguish. How were they to be told that it was not God, but the Father;
+that God was only His common name, His name in law, and that He was the
+Father. This was all she could think of; she had not a word to say. And
+the boy had shaken his little bright soul out of the sickness and the
+weakness with such a look of delight! He knew in a moment! But they--oh,
+when, when would they know?
+
+Presently she sat outside in the soft breathing airs and little morning
+breezes, and dried her aching eyes. And the Sage who was her companion
+soothed her with kind words. 'I said you would feel the thorns as you
+passed,' he said. 'We cannot be free of them, we who are of mankind.'
+
+'But oh,' she cried amid her tears, 'why,--why? The air of the earth is
+in my eyes, I cannot see. Oh, what pain it is, what misery! Was it
+because they loved him too much, and that he drew their hearts away?'
+
+The Sage only shook his head at her, smiling. 'Can one love too much?' he
+said.
+
+'O brother, it is very hard to live and to see another--I am confused in
+my mind,' said the little Pilgrim, putting her hand to her eyes. 'The
+tears of those that weep have got into my soul. To live and see another
+die,--that was what I was saying; but the child lives like you and me.
+Tell me, for I am confused in my mind.'
+
+'Listen!' said the Sage; and when she listened she heard the sound of the
+children going back with a great murmur and ringing of pleasant voices
+like silver bells in the air, and among them the voice of the child
+asking a thousand questions, calling them by their names. The two
+pilgrims listened and laughed to each other for love at the sound of the
+children. 'Is it for the little brother that you are troubled?' the Sage
+said in her ear.
+
+Then she was ashamed, and turned from the joyful sounds that were
+ascending ever higher and higher to the little house that stood below,
+with all its windows closed upon the light. It was wrapped in darkness
+though the sun was shining, the windows closed as if they never would
+open more, and the people within turning their faces to the wall,
+covering their eyes that they might not see the light of day. 'O
+miserable day!' they were saying; 'O dark hour! O life that will never
+smile again!' She sat between earth and heaven, her eyes smiling, but her
+mouth beginning to quiver once more. 'Is it to raise their thoughts and
+their hearts?' she said.
+
+'Little sister,' said he, 'when the Father speaks to you, it is not for
+me nor for another that He speaks. And what He says to you is--' 'Ah,'
+said the little Pilgrim, with joy, 'it is for myself, myself alone! As if
+I were a great angel, as if I were a saint. It drops into my heart like
+the dew. It is what I need, not for you, though I love you, but for me
+only. It is my secret between me and Him.'
+
+Her companion bowed his head. 'It is so. And thus has He spoken to the
+little child. But what He said or why He said it, is not for you or me to
+know. It is His secret; it is between the little one and his Father. Who
+can interfere between these two? Many and many are there born on earth
+whose work and whose life are ordained elsewhere,--for there is no way of
+entrance into the race of man which is the nature of the Lord, but by the
+gates of birth; and the work which the Father has to do is so great and
+manifold that there are multitudes who do but pass through those gates to
+ascend to their work elsewhere. But the Father alone knows whom he has
+chosen. It is between the child and Him. It is their secret; it is as you
+have said.'
+
+The little Pilgrim was silent for a moment, but then turned her head from
+the bright shining of the skies and the voices of the children which
+floated farther and farther off, and looked at the house in which there
+was sorrow and despair. She pointed towards it, and looked at him who was
+her instructor, and had come to show her how these things were.
+
+'They are to blame,' he said; 'but none will blame them. The little life
+is hard. The Father, though He is very near, seems far off; and sometimes
+even His word is as a dream. It is to them as if they had lost their
+child. Can you not remember?--that was what we said. We have lost--'
+
+Then the little Pilgrim, musing, began to smile, but wept again as she
+thought of the father and the mother. 'If we were to go,' she said, 'hand
+in hand, you and I, and tell them that the Father had need of him, that
+it was not for the little life but for the great and beautiful world
+above that the child was born; and that he had got great promotion and
+was gone with the princes and the angels according as was ordained?
+And why should they mourn? Let us go and tell them--'
+
+He shook his head. 'They could not see us; they would not know us. We
+should be to them as dreams. If they do not take comfort from our Lord,
+how could they take comfort from you and me? We could not bring them back
+their child. They want their child, not only to know that all is well
+with him,--for they know that all is well with him,--but what they want
+is their child. They are to blame; but who shall blame them? Not any one
+that is born of woman. How can we tell them what is the Father's secret
+and the child's?'
+
+'And yet we could tell them why it must be so?' said the little Pilgrim.
+'For they prayed and besought the Lord. O brother, I have no
+understanding. For the Lord said, "Ask, and it shall be given you;" and
+they asked, yet they are refused.'
+
+'Little sister, the Father must judge between His children; and he must
+first be heard who is most concerned. While they were praying, the Father
+and the child talked together and said what we know not; but this we
+know, that his heart was satisfied with that which was said to him. Must
+not the Father do what is best for the child He loves, whatever the other
+children may say? Nay, did not our own fathers do this on earth, and we
+submitted to them; how much more He who sees all?'
+
+The little Pilgrim stole softly from his side when he had done speaking,
+and went back into the darkened house, and saw the mother where she sat
+weeping and refusing to be comforted, in her sorrow perceiving not heaven
+nor any consolation, nor understanding that her child had gone joyfully
+to his Father and her Father, as his soul had required, and as the Lord
+had willed. Yet though she had not joy but only anguish in her faith, and
+though her eyes were darkened that she could not see, yet the woman
+ceased not to call upon God, God, and to hold by Him who had smitten her.
+And the father of the child had gone into his chamber and shut the door,
+and sat dumb, opening not his mouth, thinking upon his delightsome boy,
+and how they had walked together and talked together, and should do so
+again nevermore. And in their hearts they reproached their God, the giver
+of all, and accused the Lord to His face, as if He had deceived them, yet
+clung to Him still, weeping and upbraiding, and would not let Him go. The
+little Pilgrim wept too, and said many things to them which they could
+not hear. But when she saw that though they were in darkness and misery,
+God was in all their thoughts, she bethought herself suddenly of what the
+poet had said in the celestial city, and of the songs he sang, which were
+a wonder to the Angels and Powers, of the little life and the sorrowful
+earth, where men endured all things, yet overcame by the name of the
+Lord. When this came into her mind, she rose up again softly with a
+sacred awe, and wept not, but did them reverence; for without any light
+or guidance in their anguish they yet wavered not, died not, but endured,
+and in the end would overcome. It seemed to her that she saw the great
+beautiful angels looking on, the great souls that are called to love and
+to serve, but not to suffer like the little brethren of the earth; and
+that among the princes of heaven there was reverence and awe, and even
+envy of those who thus had their garments bathed in blood, and suffered
+loss and pain and misery, yet never abandoned their life and the work
+that had been given them to do.
+
+As she came forth again comforted, she found the Sage standing with his
+face lifted to heaven, smiling still at the sound, though faint and
+distant, of the children all calling to each other and shouting together
+as they reached the gate. 'Oh, hush!' she said; 'let not the mother hear
+them! for it will make her heart more bitter to think she can never hear
+again her child's voice.'
+
+'But it is her child's voice,' he said; then very gently, 'they are to
+blame; but no one will be found to blame them either in earth or heaven.'
+
+The earth pilgrims went far after this, yet more softly than when they
+first left their beautiful country,--for then the little Pilgrim had been
+glad, believing that as all had been made clear to her in her own life,
+so that all that concerned the life of man should be made clear; but this
+was more hard and encompassed with pain and darkness, as that which is in
+the doing is always more hard to understand than that which is
+accomplished. And she learned now what she had not understood, though her
+companion warned her, how sharp are those thorns of earth that pierce the
+wayfarer's foot, and that those who come back cannot help but suffer
+because of love and fellow-feeling. And she learned that though she could
+smile and give thanks to the Father in the recollection of her own griefs
+that were past, yet those that are present are too poignant, and to look
+upon others in their hour of darkness makes His ways more hard to
+comprehend than even when the sorrow is your own.
+
+While she mused thus, there was suddenly revealed to her another sight.
+They had gone far before they came to this new scene. Night had crept
+over the skies all gray and dark; and the sea came in with a whisper
+which sounded to some like the hush of peace, and to some like the voice
+of sorrow and moaning, and to some was but the monotony of endless
+recurrence, in which was no soul. The skies were dark overhead, but
+opened with a clear shining of light which had no color, towards the
+west,--for the sun had long gone down, and it was night. The two
+travellers perceived a woman who came out of a house all lit with lamps
+and firelight, and took the lonely path towards the sea. And the little
+Pilgrim knew her, as she had known the father and mother in the darkened
+house, and would have joined her with a cry of pleasure; but she
+remembered that the friend could not see her or hear her, being wrapped
+still in the mortal body, and in a close enveloping mantle of thoughts
+and cares. The Sage made her a sign to follow, and these two tender
+companions accompanied her who saw them not, walking darkling by the
+silent way. The heart of the woman was heavy in her breast. It was so
+sore by reason of trouble, and for all the bitter wounds of the past, and
+all the fears that beset her life to come, that she walked, not weeping
+because of being beyond tears, but as it were bleeding, her thoughts
+being in her little way like those of His upon whose brow there once
+stood drops as it were of blood; and out of her heart there came a
+moaning which was without words. If words had been possible, they would
+have been as His also, who said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not
+what they do.' For those who had wounded her were those whom in all the
+world she loved most dear; and the quivering of anguish was in her as she
+walked, seeking the darkness and the silence, and to hide herself, if
+that might be, from her own thoughts. She went along the lonely path with
+the stinging of her wounds so keen and sharp that all her body and soul
+were as one pain. Greater grief hath no man than this, to be slain and
+tortured by those whom he loves. When her soul could speak, this was what
+it said 'Father, forgive them! Father, save them!' She had no strength
+for more.
+
+This the heavenly pilgrims saw,--for they stood by her as in their own
+country, where every thought is clear, and saw her heart. But as they
+followed her and looked into her soul--with their hearts, which were
+human too, wrung at the sight of hers in its anguish--there suddenly
+became visible before them a strange sight such as they had never seen
+before. It was like the rising of the sun; but it was not the sun.
+Suddenly into the heart upon which they looked there came a great silence
+and calm. There was nothing said that even they could hear, nor done that
+they could see; but for a moment the throbbing was stilled, and the
+anguish calmed, and there came a great peace. The woman in whom this
+wonder was wrought was astonished, as they were. She gave a low cry in
+the darkness for wonder that the pain had gone from her in an instant, in
+the twinkling of an eye. There was no promise made to her that her prayer
+would be granted, and no new light given to guide her for the time to
+come; but her pain was taken away. She stood hushed, and lifted her eyes;
+and the gray of the sea, and the low cloud that was like a canopy above,
+and the lightening of colorless light towards the west, entered with
+their great quiet into her heart. 'Is this the peace that passeth all
+understanding?' she said to herself, confused with the sudden calm. In
+all her life it had never so happened to her before,--to be healed of her
+grievous wounds, yet without cause; and while no change was wrought, yet
+to be put to rest.
+
+'It is our Brother,' said the little Pilgrim, shedding tears of joy. 'It
+is the secret of the Lord,' said the Sage; but not even they had seen Him
+passing by.
+
+They walked with her softly in the silence, in the sound of the sea, till
+the wonder in her was hushed like the pain, and talked with her, though
+she knew it not. For very soon questions arose in her heart. 'And oh,'
+she said, 'is this the Lord's reply?' with thankfulness and awe; but
+because she was human, and knew so little, and was full of impatience,
+'Oh, and is this _all_?' was what she next said. 'I asked for _them_, and
+Thou hast given to _me_--' then the voice of her heart grew louder, and
+she cried, with the sound of the pain coming back, 'I ask one thing, and
+Thou givest another. I asked no blessing for me. I asked for them, my
+Lord, my God. Give it to them--to them!' with disappointment rising in
+her heart. The little Pilgrim laid her hand upon the woman's arm,--for
+she was afraid lest our Lord might be displeased, forgetting (for she was
+still imperfect) that He sees all that is in the soul, and understands
+and takes no offence,--and said quickly, 'Oh, be not afraid; He will save
+them too. The blessing will come for them too.'
+
+'At His own time,' said the Sage, 'and in His own way.'
+
+These thoughts rose in the woman's soul. She did not know that they were
+said to her, nor who said them, but accepted them as if they had come
+from her own thoughts. For she said to herself, 'This is what is meant by
+the answer of prayer. It is not what we ask; yet what I ask is according
+to Thy will, my Lord. It is not riches, nor honors, nor beauty, nor
+health, nor long life, nor anything of this world. If I have been
+impatient, this is my punishment,--that the Lord has thought, not of
+them, but of me. But I can bear all, O my Lord! that and a thousand times
+more, if Thou wilt but think of them and not of me!'
+
+Nevertheless she returned to her home stilled and comforted; for though
+her trouble returned to her and was not changed, yet for a moment it
+had been lifted from her, and the peace which passeth all understanding
+had entered her heart.
+
+'But why, then,' said the little Pilgrim to her companion, when the
+friend was gone, 'why will not the Father give to her what she asks? for
+I know what it is. It is that those whom she loves should love Him and
+serve Him; and that is His will too, for He would have all love Him, He
+who loves all.'
+
+'Little sister,' said her companion, 'you asked me why He did not let the
+child remain upon the earth.'
+
+'Ah, but that is different,' she cried; 'oh, it is different! When you
+said that the secret was between the child and the Father I knew that
+it was so; for it is just that the Father should consider us first one
+by one, and do for us what is best. But it is always best to serve Him.
+It is best to love him; it is best to give up all the world and cleave
+to Him, and follow wherever He goes. No man can say otherwise than
+this,--that to follow the Lord and serve Him, that is well for all, and
+always the best!'
+
+She spoke so hotly and hastily that her companion could find no room for
+reply. But he was in no haste; he waited till she had said what was in
+her heart. Then he replied, 'If it were even so, if the Father heard all
+prayers, and put forth His hand and forced those who were far off to come
+near--'
+
+The little Pilgrim looked up with horror in her face, as if he had
+blasphemed, and said, 'Forced! not so; not so!'
+
+'Yet it must be so,' he said, 'if it is against their desire and will.'
+
+'Oh, not so; not so!' she cried, 'but that He should change their
+hearts.'
+
+'Yet that too against their will,' he said.
+
+The little Pilgrim paused upon the way; and her heart rose against her
+companion, who spoke things so hard to be received, and that seemed to
+dishonor the work of the Lord. But she remembered that it could not be
+so, and paused before she spoke, and looked up at him with eyes that were
+full of wonder and almost of fear. 'Then must they perish?' she said,
+'and must her heart break?' and her voice sank low for pity and sorrow.
+Though she was herself among the blessed, yet the thorns and briers of
+the earth caught at her garments and pierced her tender feet.
+
+'Little sister,' said the Sage, 'to us who are born of the earth it is
+hard to remember that the child belongs not first to the parents, nor the
+husband to the wife, nor the wife to the husband, but that all are the
+children of the Father. And He is just; He will not neglect the little
+one because of those prayers which the father and the mother pour forth
+to Him, although they cry with anguish and with tears. Nor will He break
+His great law and violate the nature He has made, and compel His own
+child to what it wills not and loves not. The woman is comforted in the
+breaking of her heart; but those whom she loves, are not they also the
+children of the Father, who loves them more than she does? And each is to
+Him as if there were not another in the world. Nor is there any other in
+the world,--for none can come between the Father and the child.'
+
+A smile came upon the little Pilgrim's face, yet she trembled. 'It is dim
+before me,' she said, 'and I cannot see clearly. Oh, if the time would
+but hasten, that our Lord might come, and all struggles be ended, and the
+darkness vanish away!'
+
+'He will come when all things are ready,' said the Sage; and as they went
+upon their way be showed her other sights, and the mysteries of the heart
+of man, and the great patience of our Lord.
+
+It happened to them suddenly to perceive in their way a man returning
+home. These are words that are sweet to all who have lived upon the earth
+and known its ways; but far, far were they from that meaning which is
+sweet. The dark hours had passed, and men had slept; and the night was
+over. The sun was rising in the sky, which was keen and clear with the
+pleasure of the morning. The air was fresh with the dew, and the birds
+awaking in the trees, and the breeze so sweet that it seemed to blow from
+heaven; and to the two travellers it seemed almost in the joy of the new
+day as if the Lord had already come. But here was one who proved that it
+was not so. He had not slept all the night, nor had night been silent to
+him nor dark, but full of glaring light and noise and riot; his eyes were
+red with fever and weariness, and his soul was sick within him, and the
+morning looked him in the face and upbraided him as a sister might have
+upbraided him, who loved him. And he said in his heart, as one had said
+of old, that all was vanity; that it was vain to live, and evil to have
+been born; that the day of death was better than the day of birth, and
+all was delusion, and love but a word, and life a lie. His footsteps on
+the road seemed to sound all through the sleeping world; and when he
+looked the morning in the face he was ashamed, and cursed the light. The
+two went after him into a silent house, where everybody slept. The light
+that had burned for him all night was sick like a guilty thing in the eye
+of day, and all that had been prepared for his repose was ghastly to him
+in the hour of awaking, as if prepared not for sleep but for death. His
+heart was sick like the watch-light, and life flickered within him with
+disgust and disappointment. For why had he been born, if this were
+all?--for all was vanity. The night and the day had been passed in
+pleasure, and it was vanity; and now his soul loathed his pleasures, yet
+he knew that was vanity too, and that next day he would resume them as
+before. All was vain,--the morning and the evening, and the spirit of man
+and the ways of human life. He looked himself in the face and loathed
+this dream of existence, and knew that it was naught. So much as it had
+cost to be born, to be fed, and guarded and taught and cared for, and all
+for this! He said to himself that it was better to die than to live, and
+never to have been than to be.
+
+As these spectators stood by with much pity and tenderness looking into
+the weariness and sickness of this soul, there began to be enacted before
+them a scene such as no man could have seen, which no one was aware of
+save he who was concerned, and which even to him was not clear in its
+meanings, but rather like a phantasmagoria, a thing of the mists; yet
+which was great and solemn as is the council of a king in which great
+things are debated for the welfare of the nations. The air seemed in a
+moment to be full of the sound of footsteps, and of something more
+subtle, which the Sage and the Pilgrim knew to be wings; and as they
+looked, there grew before them the semblance of a court of justice, with
+accusers and defenders; but the judge and the criminal were one. Then was
+put forth that indictment which he had been making up in his soul against
+life and against the world; and again another indictment which was
+against himself. And then the advocates began their pleadings. Voices
+were there great and eloquent, such as are familiar in the courts above,
+which sounded forth in the spectators' ears earnest as those who plead
+for life and death. And these speakers declared that sin only is vanity,
+that life is noble and love sweet, and every man made in the image of
+God, to serve both God and man; and they set forth their reasons before
+the judge and showed him mysteries of life and death; and they took up
+the counter-indictment and proved to him how in all the world he had
+sought but himself, his own pleasure and profit, his own will, not the
+will of God, nor even the good desire of humble nature, but only that
+which pleased his sick fancies and his self-loving heart. And they
+besought him with a thousand arguments to return and choose again the
+better way. 'Arise,' they cried, 'thou, miserable, and become great;
+arise, thou vain soul, and become noble. Take thy birthright, O son, and
+behold the face of the Father.' And then there came a whispering of lower
+voices, very penetrating and sweet, like the voices of women and
+children, who murmured and cried, 'O father! O brother! O love! O my
+child!' The man who was the accused, yet who was the judge, listened; and
+his heart burned, and a longing arose within him for the face of the
+Father and the better way. But then there came a clang and clamor of
+sound on the other side; and voices called out to him as comrade, as
+lover, as friend, and reminded him of the delights which once had been so
+sweet to him, and of the freedom he loved; and boasted the right of man
+to seek what was pleasant and what was sweet, and flouted him as a coward
+whose aim was to save himself, and scorned him as a believer in old
+wives' tales and superstitions that men had outgrown. And their voices
+were so vehement and full of passion that by times they mastered the
+others, so that it was as if a tempest raged round the soul which sat in
+the midst, and who was the offender and yet the judge of all.
+
+The two spectators watched the conflict, as those who watch the trial
+upon which hangs a man's life. It seemed to the little Pilgrim that she
+could not keep silent, and that there were things which she could tell
+him which no one knew but she. She put her hand upon the arm of the Sage
+and called to him, 'Speak you, speak you! he will hear you; and I too
+will speak, and he will not resist what we say.' But even as she said
+this, eager and straining against her companion's control, the strangest
+thing ensued. The man who was set there to judge himself and his life; he
+who was the criminal, yet august upon his seat, to weigh all and give the
+decision; he before whom all those great advocates were pleading,--a haze
+stole over his eyes. He was but a man, and he was weary, and subject to
+the sway of the little over the great, the moment over the life, which is
+the condition of man. While yet the judgment was not given or the issue
+decided, while still the pleadings were in his ears, in a moment his head
+dropped back upon his pillow, and he fell asleep. He slept like a child,
+as if there was no evil, nor conflict, nor danger, nor questions, more
+than how best to rest when you are weary, in all the world. And
+straightway all was silent in the place. Those who had been conducting
+this great cause departed to other courts and tribunals, having done all
+that was permitted them to do. And the man slept, and when it was noon
+woke and remembered no more.
+
+The Sage led the little Pilgrim forth in a great confusion, so that she
+could not speak for wonder. But he said, 'This sleep also was from the
+Father; for the mind of the man was weary, and not able to form a
+judgment. It is adjourned until a better day.'
+
+The little Pilgrim hung her head and cried, 'I do not understand. Will
+not the Lord interfere? Will not the Father make it clear to him? Is he
+the judge between good and evil? Is it all in his own hand?'
+
+The Sage spoke softly, as if with awe. He said, 'This is the burden of
+our nature, which is not like the angels. There is none in heaven or on
+earth that can take from him what is his right and great honor among the
+creatures of God. The Father respects that which He has made. He will
+force no child of His. And there is no haste with Him; nor has it ever
+been fathomed among us how long He will wait, or if there is any end. The
+air is full of the coming and going of those who plead before the sons of
+men; and sometimes in great misery and trouble there will be a cause won
+and a judgment recorded which makes the universe rejoice. And in
+everything at the end it is proved that our Lord's way is the best, and
+that all can be accomplished in His name.'
+
+The little Pilgrim went on her way in silence, knowing that the longing
+in her heart which was to compel them to come in, like that king who
+sent to gather his guests from the highways and the hedges, could not
+be right, since it was not the Father's way, yet confused in her soul,
+and full of an eager desire to go back and wake that man and tell him
+all that had been in her heart while she watched him sitting on his
+judgment-seat. But there came recollections wafted across her mind as by
+breezes of the past, of scenes in her earthly life when she had spoken
+without avail, when she had said all that was in her heart and failed,
+and done harm when she had meant to do good. And slowly it came upon her
+that her companion spoke the truth, and that no man can save his brother;
+but each must sit and hear the pleadings and pronounce that judgment
+which is for life or death. 'But oh,' she cried, 'how long and how bitter
+it is for those who love them, and must stand by and can give no aid!'
+
+Then her companion unfolded to her the patience of the Lord, and how He
+is not discouraged, nor ever weary, but opens His great assizes year by
+year and day by day; and how the cause was argued again, as she had seen
+it, before the souls of men, sometimes again and again and over and over,
+till the pleadings of the advocates carried conviction, and the judge
+perceived the truth and consented to it. He showed her that this was the
+great thing in human life, and that though it was not enough to make a
+man perfect, yet that he who sinned against his will was different from
+the man who sinned with his will; and how in all things the choice of the
+man for good or evil was all in all. And he led her about the world so
+that she could see how everywhere the heavenly advocates were travelling,
+entering into the secret places of the souls, and pleading with each man
+to his face. And the little Pilgrim looked on with pitying and tender
+eyes, and it seemed to her that the heart of the judge, before whom that
+great question was debated, leaned mostly to the right, and acknowledged
+that the way of the Lord was the best way; but either that sleep
+overpowered him and weariness, or the other voices deafened his ears, or
+something betrayed him that he forgot the reasons of the wise and the
+judgment of his own soul. At first it comforted her to see how something
+nobler in every man would answer to the pleadings; and then her heart
+failed her, to perceive that notwithstanding this the judge would leave
+his seat without a decision, and all would end in vanity. 'And oh,
+friend,' she cried, 'what shall be done to those who see and yet
+refuse?'--her heart being wrung by the disappointment and the failure.
+But her companion smiled still, and he said, 'They are the children of
+the Father. Can a woman forget her child that she should not have
+compassion on the son of her womb? She may forget; yet will not He
+forget.' And thus they went on and on.
+
+But time would not suffice to tell what these two pilgrims saw as they
+wandered among the ways of men. They saw poverty and misery and pain,
+which came of the evil which man had done upon the earth, and were his
+punishment, and could be cured by nothing but by the return of each to
+his Father, and the giving up of all self-worship and self-seeking and
+sin. But amid all the confusion and among those who had fallen the lowest
+they found not one who was forsaken, whose name the Father had forgotten,
+or who was not made to pause in his appointed moment, and to sit upon his
+throne and hear the pleadings before him of the great advocates of God,
+reasoning of temperance and righteousness and judgment to come.
+
+But once before they returned to their home, a great thing befell them;
+and they beheld that court sit, and the pleadings made, for the last time
+upon earth, which was a sight more solemn and terrible than anything they
+had yet seen. They found themselves in a chamber where sat a man who had
+lived long and known both good and evil, and fulfilled many great
+offices, so that he was famed and honored among men. He was a man who was
+wise in all the learning of the earth, standing but a little way below
+those who have begun the higher learning in the world beyond, and lifting
+up his head as if he would reach the stars. The travellers stood by him
+in his beautiful house, which was as the palace of wisdom, and saw him in
+the midst of all his honors. The lamps were lit within, and the night was
+sweet without, breathing of rest and happy ease, and riches and
+knowledge, as if they would endure forever. And the man looked round on
+all he had, and all he had achieved, and everything which he possessed,
+to enjoy it. For of wisdom and of glory he had his fill, and his soul was
+yet strong to take pleasure in what was his, and he looked around him
+like God, and said that everything was good; so that the little Pilgrim
+gazed, and wondered whether this could indeed be one of the brethren of
+the earth, or if he was one who had wandered hither from another sphere.
+
+But as the thought arose, she heard, and lo! the steps of the pleaders
+and the sound of their entry. They came slowly like a solemn procession,
+more grave and awful in their looks than any she had seen, for they were
+great and the greatest of all, such as come forth but rarely when the
+last word is to be said. The words they said were few; but they stood
+round him reminding him of all that had been, and of what must be, and of
+many things which were known but to God and him alone, and calling upon
+him yet once more before time should come to an end and life be lost. But
+the sound of their voices in his ear was but as some great strain of
+music which he had heard many times and knew and heeded not. He turned to
+the goods which he had laid up for many years, and all the knowledge he
+had stored, and said to himself, 'Soul, take thine ease.' And to the
+heavenly advocates he smiled and replied that life was strong and wisdom
+the master of all. Then there came a chill and a shiver over all, as if
+the earth had been stopped in her career or the sun fallen from the sky;
+and the little Pilgrim, looking on, could see the heavenly pleaders come
+forth with bowed heads and the door of hope shut to, and a whisper which
+crept about from sea to sea and said, 'In vain! in vain!' And as they
+went forth from the gates an icy breath swept in, and the voice of the
+Death-Angel saying, 'Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of
+thee!' The sound went through her heart as if it had been pierced by a
+sword, and she gave a cry of anguish, for she could not bear that a
+brother should be lost. But when she looked up at the face of her
+companion, though it was pale with the pity and the terror of that which
+had been thus accomplished, there was still upon it a smile; and he said,
+'Not yet; not yet. The Father loves not less, but more than ever.' 'O
+friend,' she cried, 'will there ever come a moment when the Father will
+forget? IS there any place where He cannot go?'
+
+Then he who was wise turned towards her, and a great light came upon his
+face; and he said, 'We have searched the records, and heard all witnesses
+from the beginnings of time; but we have never found the boundary of His
+mercy, and there is no country known to man that is without his presence.
+And never has it been known that He has shut His ear to those who called
+upon Him, or forgotten one who is His. The heavenly pleaders may be
+silenced, but never our Lord, who pleads for all; and heaven and earth
+may forget, yet will He never forget who is the Father of all. And every
+child of His is to Him as if there was none other in the world.'
+
+Then the little Pilgrim lifted her face and beheld that radiance which is
+over all, which is the love that lights the world, both angels and the
+great spheres above and the little brethren who stumble and struggle and
+weep; and in that light there was no darkness at all, but everything
+shone as in the morning, sweet yet terrible, but ever clear and fair. And
+immediately, ere she was aware, the rough roads of the earth were left
+far behind, and she had returned to her place, and to her peaceful state,
+and to the work which had been given her,--to receive the wanderers and
+to bid them a happy welcome as the doors opened and they entered into
+their inheritance. And thus her soul was satisfied, though she knew now
+nothing more than she had known always,--that the eye of the Father is
+over all, and that He can neither forget nor forsake.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+ON THE DARK MOUNTAINS.
+
+
+When the little Pilgrim had been thus permitted to see the secret
+workings of God in earthly places, and among the brethren who are still
+in the land of hope,--these being things which the angels desire to look
+into, and which are the subject of story and of song not only in the
+little world below, but in the great realms above,--her heart for a long
+time reposed and was satisfied, and asked no further question. For she
+had seen what the dealings of the Father were in the hearts of men, and
+how till the end came He did not cease to send His messengers to plead in
+every heart, and to hold a court of justice that no man might be
+deceived, but each know whither his steps were tending, and what was the
+way of wisdom. After this it was permitted to her to read in the archives
+of the heavenly country the story of one, who, neglecting all that the
+advocates of God could say, had found himself, when the little life was
+completed, not upon the threshold of a better country, but in the midst
+of the Land of Darkness,--that region in which the souls of men are left
+by God to their own devices, and the Father stands aloof, and hides His
+face and calls them not, neither persuades them more. Over this story the
+little Pilgrim had shed many tears; for she knew well, being enlightened
+in her great simplicity by the heavenly wisdom, that it was pain and
+grief to the Father to turn away His face; and that no one who has but
+the little heart of a man can imagine to himself what that sorrow is in
+the being of the great God. And a great awe came over her mind at the
+thought, which seemed well-nigh a blasphemy, that He could grieve; yet in
+her heart, being His child, she knew that it was true. And her own little
+spirit throbbed through and through with longing and with desire to help
+those who were thus utterly lost. 'And oh!' she said, 'if I could but go!
+There is nothing which could make a child afraid, save to see them
+suffer. What are darkness and terror when the Father is with you? I am
+not afraid--if I might but go!' And by reason of her often pleading, and
+of the thought that was ever in her mind, it was at last said that one of
+those who knew might instruct her, and show her by what way alone the
+travellers who come from that miserable land could approach and be
+admitted on high.
+
+'I know,' she said, 'that between us and them there is a gulf fixed, and
+that they who would come from thence cannot come, neither can any one--'
+
+But here she stopped in great dismay, for it seemed that she had thus
+answered her own longing and prayer.
+
+The guide who had come for her smiled upon her and said, 'But that was
+before the Lord had ended His work. And now all the paths are free
+wherever there is a mountain-pass or a river-ford; the roads are all
+blessed, and they are all open, and no barriers for those who will.'
+
+'Oh,' she cried, 'dear friend, is that true for all?'
+
+He looked away from her into the depths of the lovely air, and he
+replied: 'Little sister, our faith is without bounds, but not our
+knowledge. I who speak to you am no more than a man. The princes and
+powers that are in high places know more than I; but if there be any
+place where a heart can stir and cry out to the Father and He take no
+heed,--if it be only in a groan, if it be only with a sigh,--I know not
+that place, yet many depths I know.' He put out his hand and took hers
+after a pause; and then he said, 'There are some who are stumbling upon
+the dark mountains. Come and see.'
+
+As they passed along, there were many who paused to look at them, for
+he had the mien of a great prince, a lord among men; and his face still
+bore the trace of sorrow and toil, and there was about him an awe and
+wonder which was more than could be put in words. So that those who saw
+him understood as he went by, not who he was, nor what he had been, but
+that he had come out of great tribulation, of sorrow beyond the sorrows
+of men. The sweetness of the heavenly country had soothed away his
+care, and taken the cloud from his face; but he was as yet unaccustomed
+to smile,--though when he remembered and looked round him and saw that
+all was well, his countenance lightened like the morning sky, and his
+eyes woke up in splendor like the sun rising. The little Pilgrim did
+not know who her brother was, but yet gave thanks to God for him, she
+knew not why.
+
+How far they went cannot be estimated in words, for distance matters
+little in that place; but at the end they came to a path which sloped a
+little downwards to the edge of a delightful moorland country, all
+brilliant with the hues of the mountain flowers. It was like a flowery
+plateau high among the hills, in a region where are no frosts to check
+the glow of the flowers, or scorch the grass. It spread far around in
+hollows and ravines and softly swelling hills, with the rush over them of
+a cheerful breeze full of mountain scents and sounds; and high above them
+rose the mountain heights of the celestial world, veiled in those blue
+breadths of distance which are heaven itself when man's fancy ascends to
+them from the low world at their feet. All the little earth can do in
+color and mists, and travelling shadows fleet as the breath, and the
+sweet steadfast shining of the sun, was there, but with a ten-fold
+splendor. They rose up into the sky, every peak and jagged rock all
+touched with the light and the smile of God, and every little blossom on
+the turf rejoicing in the warmth and freedom and peace. The heart of the
+little Pilgrim swelled, and she cried out, 'There is nothing so glorious
+as the everlasting hills. Though the valleys and the plains are sweet,
+they are not like them. They say to us, lift up your heart!'
+
+Her guide smiled, but he did not speak. His smile was full of joy, but
+grave, like that of a man whose thoughts are bent on other things; and he
+pointed where the road wound downwards by the feet of these triumphant
+hills. She kept her eyes upon them as she moved along. Those heights rose
+into the very sky, but bore upon them neither snow nor storm. Here and
+there a whiteness like a film of air rounded out over a peak; and she
+recognized that it was one of those angels who travel far and wide with
+God's commissions, going to the other worlds that are in the firmament as
+in a sea. The softness of these films of white was like the summer clouds
+that she used to watch in the blue of the summer sky in the little world
+which none of its children can cease to love; and she wondered now
+whether it might not sometimes have been the same dear angels whose
+flight she had watched unknowing, higher than thought could soar or
+knowledge penetrate. Watching those floating heavenly messengers, and the
+heights of the great miraculous mountains rising up into the sky, the
+little Pilgrim ceased to think whither she was going, although she knew
+from the feeling of the ground under her feet that she was descending,
+still softly, but more quickly than at first, until she was brought to
+herself by the sensation of a great wind coming in her face, cold as from
+a sudden vacancy. She turned her head quickly from gazing above to what
+was before her, and started with a cry of wonder. For below lay a great
+gulf of darkness, out of which rose at first some shadowy peaks and
+shoulders of rock, all falling away into a gloom which eyes accustomed to
+the sunshine could not penetrate. Where she stood was the edge of the
+light,--before her feet lay a line of shadow slowly darkening out of
+daylight into twilight, and beyond into that measureless blackness of
+night; and the wind in her face was like that which comes from a great
+depth below of either sea or land,--the sweep of the current which moves
+a vast atmosphere in which there is nothing to break its force. The
+little Pilgrim was so startled by these unexpected sensations that she
+caught the arm of her guide in her sudden alarm, and clung to him, lest
+she should fall into the terrible darkness and the deep abyss below.
+
+'There is nothing to fear,' he said; 'there is a way. To us who are
+above there is no danger at all; and it is the way of life to those who
+are below.'
+
+'I see nothing,' she cried, 'save a few points of rock, and the
+precipice,--the pit which is below. Oh, tell me what is it? Is it where
+the fires are, and despair dwells? I did not think that was true. Let me
+go and hide myself and not see it, for I never thought that was true.'
+
+'Look again,' said the guide.
+
+The little Pilgrim shrank into a crevice of the rock, and uncovering her
+eyes, gazed into the darkness; and because her nature was soft and timid
+there came into her mind a momentary fear. Her heart flew to the Father's
+footstool, and cried out to Him, not any question or prayer, but only
+'Father, Father!' and this made her stand erect, and strengthened her
+eyes, so that the gloom even of hell could no more make her afraid. Her
+guide stood beside with a steadfast countenance, which was grave, yet
+full of a solemn light. And then all at once he lifted up his voice,
+which was sonorous and sweet like the sound of an organ, and uttered a
+shout so great and resounding that it seemed to come back in echoes from
+every hollow and hill. What he said the little Pilgrim could not
+understand; but when the echoes had died away and silence followed,
+something came up through the gloom,--a sound that was far, far away, and
+faint in the long distance; a voice that sounded no more than an echo.
+When he who had called out heard it, he turned to the little Pilgrim with
+eyes that were liquid with love and pity; 'Listen,' he said, 'there is
+some one on the way.'
+
+'Can we help them?' cried the little Pilgrim; her heart bounded forward
+like a bird. She had no fear. The darkness and the horrible way seemed as
+nothing to her. She stretched out her arms as if she would have seized
+the traveller and dragged him up into the light.
+
+He who was by her side shook his head, but with a smile. 'We can but
+wait,' he said. 'It is forbidden that any one should help; for this is
+too terrible and strange to be touched even by the hands of angels. It is
+like nothing that you know.'
+
+'I have been taught many things,' said the little Pilgrim, humbly. 'I
+have been taken back to the dear earth, where I saw the judgment-seat,
+and the pleaders who spoke, and the man who was the judge, and how each
+is judge for himself.'
+
+'You have seen the place of hope,' said her guide, 'where the Father is
+and the Son, and where no man is left to his own ways. But there is
+another country, where there is no voice either from God or from good
+spirits, and where those who have refused are left to do as seems good in
+their own eyes.'
+
+'I have read,' said the little Pilgrim, with a sob, 'of one who went from
+city to city and found no rest.'
+
+Her guide bowed his head very gravely in assent. 'They go from place to
+place,' he said, 'if haply they might find one in which it is possible to
+live. Whether it is order or whether it is license, it is according to
+their own will. They try all things, ever looking for something which the
+soul may endure. And new cities are founded from time to time, and a new
+endeavor ever and ever to live, only to live. For even when happiness
+fails and content, and work is vanity and effort is naught, it is
+something if a man can but endure to live.'
+
+The little Pilgrim looked at him with wistful eyes, for what he said was
+beyond her understanding. 'For us,' she said, 'life is nothing but joy.
+Oh, brother, is there then condemnation?'
+
+'It is no condemnation; it is what they have chosen,--it is to follow
+their own way. There is no longer any one to interfere. The pleaders are
+all silent; there is no voice in the heart. The Father hinders them not,
+nor helps them, but leaves them.' He shivered as if with cold; and the
+little Pilgrim felt that there breathed from the depths of darkness at
+their feet an icy wind which touched her hands and feet and chilled her
+heart. She shivered too, and drew close to the rock for shelter, and
+gazed at the awful cliffs rising out of the gloom, and the paths that
+disappeared at her feet, leading down, down into that abyss; and her
+heart failed within her to think that below there were souls that
+suffered, and that the Father and the Son were not there. He, the
+All-loving, the All-present,--how could it be that He was not there?
+
+'It is a mystery,' said the man who was her guide, and who answered to
+her thought. 'When I set my foot upon this blessed land I knew that
+there, even there, He is. But in that country His face is hidden, and
+even to name His name is anguish,--for then only do men understand what
+has befallen them, who can say that name no more.'
+
+'That is death indeed,' she cried; and the wind came up silent with a
+wild breath that was more awful than the shriek of a storm; for it was
+like the stifled utterances of all those miserable ones who have no voice
+to call upon God, and know not where He is nor how to pronounce His name.
+
+'Ah,' said he, 'if we could have known what death was! We had believed in
+death in the time of all great illusions, in the time of the gentle life,
+in the day of hope. But in the land of darkness there are no illusions;
+and every man knows that though he should fling himself into the furnace
+of the gold, or be cut to pieces by the knives, or trampled under the
+dancers' feet, yet that it will be but a little more pain, and that death
+is not, nor any escape that way.'
+
+'Oh, brother!' she cried, 'you have been there!'
+
+He turned and looked upon her; and she read as in a book things which
+tongue of man cannot say,--the anguish and the rapture, the
+unforgotten pang of the lost, the joy of one who has been delivered
+after hope was gone.
+
+'I have been there; and now I stand in the light, and have seen the face
+of the Lord, and can speak His blessed name.' And with that he burst
+forth into a great melodious cry, which was not like that which he had
+sent into the dark depths below, but mounted up like the sounding of
+silver trumpets and all joyful music, giving a voice to the sweet air and
+the fresh winds which blew about the hills of God. But the words he said
+were not comprehensible to his companion, for they were in the sweet
+tongue which is between the Father and His child, and known to none but
+to them alone. Yet only to hear the sound was enough to transport all who
+listened, and to make them know what joy is and peace. The little
+Pilgrim wept for happiness to hear her brother's voice; but in the midst
+of it her ear was caught by another sound,--a faint cry which tingled up
+from the darkness like a note of a muffled bell,--and she turned from the
+joy and the light, and flung out her arms and her little voice towards
+him who was stumbling upon the dark mountains. And 'Come,' she cried,
+'come, come!' forgetting all things save that one was there in the
+darkness, while here was light and peace.
+
+'It is nearer,' said her guide, hearing, even in the midst of his triumph
+song, that faint and distant cry; and he took her hand and drew her back,
+for she was upon the edge of the precipice, gazing into the black depths,
+which revealed nothing save the needles of the awful rocks and sheer
+descents below. 'The moment will come,' he said, 'when we can help; but
+it is not yet.'
+
+Her heart was in the depths with him who was coming, whom she knew not
+save that he was coming, toiling upwards towards the light; and it seemed
+to her that she could not contain herself, nor wait till he should
+appear, nor draw back from the edge, where she might hold out her hands
+to him and save him some single step, if no more. But presently her heart
+returned to her brother who stood by her side, and who was delivered,
+and with whom it was meet that all should rejoice, since he had fought
+and conquered, and reached the land of light. 'Oh,' she said, 'it is long
+to wait while he is still upon these dark mountains. Tell me how it came
+to you to find the way.'
+
+He turned to her with a smile, though his ear too was intent, and his
+heart fixed upon the traveller in the darkness, and began to tell her his
+tale to beguile the time of waiting, and to hold within bounds the pity
+that filled her heart. He told her that he was one of many who came from
+the pleasant earth together, out of many countries and tongues; and how
+they had gone here and there each man to a different city; and how they
+had crossed each other's paths coming and going, yet never found rest for
+their feet; and how there was a little relief in every change, and one
+sought that which another left; and how they wandered round and round
+over all the vast and endless plain, until at length in revolt from every
+other way, they had chosen a spot upon the slope of a hill, and built
+there a new city, if perhaps something better might be found there; and
+how it had been built with towers and high walls, and great gates to shut
+it in, so that no stranger should find entrance; and how every house was
+a palace, with statues of marble, and pillars so precious with beautiful
+work, and arches so lofty and so fair that they were better than had they
+been made of gold,--yet gold was not wanting, nor diamond stones that
+shone like stars, and everything more beautiful and stately than heart
+could conceive.
+
+'And while we built and labored,' he said, 'our hearts were a little
+appeased. And it was called the city of Art, and all was perfect in it,
+so that nothing had ever been seen to compare with it for beauty; and we
+walked upon the battlements and looked over the plain and viewed the
+dwellers there, who were not as we. And we went on to fill every room and
+every hall with carved work in stone and beaten gold, and pictures and
+woven tissues that were like the sun-gleams and the rainbows of the
+pleasant earth. And crowds came around envying us and seeking to enter;
+but we closed our gates and drove them away. And it was said among us
+that life would now become as of old, and everything would go well with
+us as in the happy days.'
+
+The little Pilgrim looked up into his face, and for pity of his pain
+(though it was past) almost wished that _that_ could have come true.
+
+'But when the work was done,' he said, and for a moment no more.
+
+'Oh, brother! when the work was done?' 'You do not know what it is,' he
+said, 'to be ten times more powerful and strong, to want no rest, to have
+fire in your veins, to have the craving in your heart above everything
+that is known to man. When the work was done, we glared upon each other
+with hungry eyes, and each man wished to thrust forth his neighbor and
+possess all to himself. And then we ceased to take pleasure in it,
+notwithstanding that it was beautiful; and there were some who would have
+beaten down the walls and built them anew; and some would have torn up
+the silver and gold, and tossed out the fair statues and the adornments
+in scorn and rage to the meaner multitudes below. And we who were the
+workers began to contend one against another to satisfy the gnawings of
+the rage that was in our hearts. For we had deceived ourselves, thinking
+once more that all would be well; while all the time nothing was changed,
+and we were but as the miserable ones that rushed from place to place.'
+
+Though all this wretchedness was over and past, it was so terrible to
+think of that he paused and was silent awhile. And the little Pilgrim
+put her hand upon his arm in her great pity, to soothe him, and almost
+forgot that there was another traveller not yet delivered upon the way.
+But suddenly at that moment there came up through the depths the sound of
+a fall, as if the rocks had crashed from a hundred peaks, yet all muffled
+by the great distance, and echoing all around in faint echoes, and
+rumblings as in the bosom of the earth; and mingled with them were
+far-off cries, so faint and distant that human ears could not have heard
+them, like the cries of lost children, or creatures wavering and straying
+in the midst of the boundless night. This time she who was watching upon
+the edge of the gloom would have flung herself forward altogether into
+it, had not her companion again restrained her. 'One has stumbled upon
+the mountains; but listen, listen, little sister, for the voices are
+many,' he said. 'It is not one who comes, but many; and though he falls
+he will rise again.' And once more he shouted aloud, bending down against
+the rocks, so that they caught his voice; and the sweet air from the
+skies came behind him in a great gust like a summer storm, and carried it
+into all the echoing hollows of the hills. And the little Pilgrim knew
+that he shouted to all who came to take courage and not to fear. And
+this time there rose upwards many faint and wavering sounds that did not
+stir the air, but made it tingle with a vibration of the great distance
+and the unknown depths; and then again all was still. They stood for a
+time intent upon the great silence and darkness which swept up all sight
+and sound, and then the little Pilgrim once more turned her eyes towards
+her companion, and he began again his wonderful tale.
+
+'He who had been the first to found the city, and who was the most wise
+of any, though the rage was in him like all the rest, and the
+disappointment and the anguish, yet would not yield. And he called upon
+us for another trial, to make a picture which should be the greatest that
+ever was painted; and each one of us, small or great, who had been of
+that art in the dear life, took share in the rivalry and the emulation,
+so that on every side there was a fury and a rush, each man with his band
+of supporters about him struggling and swearing that his was the best.
+Not that they loved the work or the beauty of the work, but to keep down
+the gnawing in their hearts, and to have something for which they could
+still fight and storm, and for a little forget.'
+
+'I was one who had been among the highest.' He spoke not with pride, but
+in a low and deep voice which went to the heart of the listener, and
+brought the tears to her eyes. It was not like that of the painter in the
+heavenly city, who rejoiced and was glad in his work, though he was but
+as a humble workman, serving those who were more great. But this man had
+the sorrow of greatness in him, and the wonder of those who can do much,
+to find how little they can do. 'My veins,' he said, 'were filled with
+fire, and my heart with the rage of a great desire to be first, as I had
+been first in the days of the gentle life. And I made my plan to be
+greater than all the rest, to paint a vast picture like the world, filled
+with all the glories of life. In a moment I had conceived what I should
+do, for my strength was as that of a hundred men; and none of us could
+rest or breathe till it was accomplished, but flung ourselves upon this
+new thing as upon water in the desert. Oh, my little sister, how can I
+tell you; what words can show forth this wonderful thing? I stood before
+my great canvas with all those who were of my faction pressing upon me,
+noting every touch I made, shouting, and saying, "He will win! he will
+win!" when lo! there came a mystery and a wonder into that place. I had
+arranged men and women before me according to all the devices of art, to
+serve as my models, that nature might be in my picture, and life; but
+when I looked I saw them not, for between them and me had come a Face.'
+
+The eyes of the little Pilgrim dropped with tears. She held out her hands
+towards him with a sympathy which no words could say.
+
+'Often had I painted that Face in the other life, sometimes with awe and
+love, sometimes with scorn,--for hire and for bread, and for pride and
+for fame. It is pale with suffering, yet smiles; the eyes have tears in
+them, yet light below, and all that is there is full of tenderness and of
+love. There is a crown upon the brow, but it is made of thorns. It came
+before me suddenly, while I stood there, with the men shouting close to
+my ear urging me on, and fierce fury in my heart, and the rage to be
+first, and to forget. Where my models were, there it came. I could not
+see them, nor my groups that I had planned, nor anything but that Face. I
+called out to my men. "Who has done this?" but they heard me not, nor
+understood me, for to them there was nothing there save the figures I had
+set,--a living picture all ready for the painter's hand.
+
+'I could not bear it, the sight of that Face. I flung my tools away; I
+covered my eyes with my hands. But those who were about me pressed on me
+and threatened; they pulled my hands from my eyes. "Coward!" they cried,
+and "Traitor, to leave us in the lurch! Now will the other side win and
+we be shamed. Rather tear him limb from limb, fling him from the walls!"
+The crowd came round me like an angry sea; they forced my pencils back
+into my hands. "Work," they cried, "or we will tear you limb from limb."
+For though they were upon my side, it was for rivalry, and not out of any
+love for me.' He paused for a moment, for his heart was yet full of the
+remembrance, and of joy that it was past.
+
+'I looked again,' he said, 'and still it was there. O Face divine,--the
+eyes all wet with pity, the lips all quivering with love! And neither
+pity nor love belonged to that place, nor any succor, nor the touch of a
+brother, nor the voice of a friend. "Paint," they cried, "or we will tear
+you limb from limb!" and fire came into my heart. I pushed them from me
+on every side with the strength of a giant. And then I flung it on the
+canvas, crying I know not what,--not to them, but to Him. Shrink not from
+me, little sister, for I blasphemed. I called Him Impostor, Deceiver,
+Galilean; and still with all my might, with all the fury of my soul, I
+set Him there for every man to see, not knowing what I did. Everything
+faded from me but that Face; I saw it alone. The crowd came round me with
+shouts and threats to drag me away but I took no heed. They were
+silenced, and fled and left me alone, but I knew nothing; nor when they
+came back with others and seized me, and flung me forth from the gates,
+was I aware what I had done. They cast me out and left me upon the wild
+without a shelter, without a companion, storming and raving at them as
+they did at me. They dashed the great gates behind me with a clang, and
+shut me out. And I turned and defied them, and cursed them as they cursed
+me, not knowing what I had done.'
+
+'Oh, brother!' murmured the little Pilgrim, kneeling, as if she had
+accompanied him all the way with her prayers, but could not now say more.
+
+'Then I saw again,' he went on, not hearing her in the great force of
+that passion and wonder which was still in his mind, 'that vision in the
+air. Wherever I turned, it was there,--His eyes wet with pity, His
+countenance shining with love. Whence came He? What did He in that place,
+where love is not, where pity comes not?'
+
+'Friend,' she cried, 'to seek you there!'
+
+Her companion bowed his head in deep humbleness and joy. And again he
+lifted his great voice and intoned his song of praise. The little Pilgrim
+understood it, but by fragments,--a line that was more simple that came
+here and there. And it praised the Lord that where the face of the Father
+was hidden; and where love was not, nor compassion, nor brother had pity
+on brother, nor friend knew the face of friend; and all succor was
+stayed, and every help forbidden,--yet still in the depths of the
+darkness and in the heart of the silence, He who could not forget nor
+forsake was there. The voice of the singer was like that of one of the
+great angels, and many of the inhabitants of the blessed country began to
+appear, gathering in crowds to hear this great music, as the little
+sister thought; and she herself listened with all her heart, wondering
+and seeing on the faces of those dear friends whom she did not know an
+expectation and a hope which were strange to her, though she could always
+understand their love and their joy.
+
+But in the middle of this great song there came again another sound to
+her ear,--a sound which pierced through the music like lightning through
+the sky, though it was but the cry of one distraught and fainting; a cry
+out of the depths not even seeking help, a cry of distress too terrible
+to be borne. Though it was scarcely louder than a sigh, she heard it
+through all the music, and turned and flew to the edge of the precipice
+whence it came. And immediately the darkness seemed to move as with a
+pulse in a great throb, and something came through the wind with a rush,
+as if part of the mountain had fallen--and lo! at her feet lay one who
+had flung himself forward, his arms stretched out, his face to the
+ground, as if he had seized and grasped in an agony the very soil. He lay
+there, half in the light and half in the shadow, gripping the rocks with
+his hands, burrowing into the cool herbage above and the mountain
+flowers; clinging, catching hold, despairing, yet seizing everything he
+could grasp,--the tender grass, the rolling stones. The little Pilgrim
+flung herself down upon her knees by his side, and grasped his arm to
+help, and cried aloud for aid; and the song of the singer ceased, and
+there was silence for a moment, so that the breath of the fugitive could
+be heard panting, and his strong struggle to drag himself altogether out
+of that abyss of darkness below. She thought of nothing, nor heard nor
+saw anything but the strain of that last effort which seemed to shake
+the very mountains; until suddenly there seemed to rise all around the
+hum and murmur as of a great multitude, and looking up, she saw every
+little hill and hollow, and the glorious plain beyond as far as eye could
+see, crowded with countless throngs; and on the high peaks above, in the
+full shining of the sun, came bands of angels, and of those great beings
+who are more mighty than men. And the eyes of all were fixed upon the man
+who lay as one dead upon the ground, and from the lips of all came a low
+murmur of rapture and delight, that spread like the hum of the bees, like
+the cooing of the doves, like the voice of a mother over her child; and
+the same sound came to her own lips unawares, and she murmured 'welcome'
+and 'brother' and 'friend,' not knowing what she said; and looking to the
+others, whispered, 'Hush! for he is weak'--and all of them answered with
+tears, with 'hush' and 'welcome' and 'friend' and 'brother' and
+'beloved,' and stood smiling and weeping for joy. And presently there
+came softly into the blessed air the ringing of the great silver bells,
+which sound only for victory and great happiness and gain. And there was
+joy in heaven; and every world was stirred. And throughout the firmament,
+and among all the lords and princes of life, it was known that the
+impossible had become true, and the name of the Lord had proved
+enough, and love had conquered even despair.
+
+'Hush!' she said, 'for he is weak.' And because it was her blessed
+service to receive those who had newly arrived in that heavenly country,
+and to soothe and help them so that like newborn children they should be
+able to endure and understand the joy, she knelt by him on the ground
+and tried to rouse him, though with trembling, for never before had she
+stood by one who was newly come out of the land of despair. 'Let the sun
+come upon him,' she said; 'let him feel the brightness of the
+light,'--and with her soft hands she drew him out of the shade of the
+twilight to where the brightness of the day fell like a smile upon the
+flowers. And then at last he stirred, and turned round and opened his
+eyes, for the genial warmth had reached him. But his eyes were heavy and
+dazzled with the light; and he looked round him as if confused from
+beneath his heavy eyelids. 'And where am I?' he said; 'and who are you?'
+'Oh, brother!' said the little Pilgrim, and told him in his ear the name
+of that heavenly place, and many comforting and joyful things. But he
+understood her not, and still gazed about him with dazzled eyes, for his
+face was still towards the darkness, and fear was upon him lest this
+place should prove no more than a delusion, and the darkness return, and
+the anguish and pain.
+
+Then he who had been her guide, and told her his tale, came forward and
+stood by the side of the newly come. And 'Brother,' he said, 'look upon
+me, for you know me, and know from whence I come.'
+
+The stranger looked dimly with his heavy eyes. And he replied, 'It is as
+a dream that I know you, and know from whence you came. And the dream is
+sweet to lie here, and think that I am at peace. Deceive me not, oh!
+deceive me not with dreams that are sweet; but let me go upon my way and
+find the end, if there is any end, or if any good can be.'
+
+'What shall we do,' cried the little Pilgrim, 'to persuade him that he
+has arrived and is safe, and dreams no more?'
+
+And they stood round him wondering, and troubled to find how little they
+could do for him, and that the light entered so slowly into his soul. And
+he lay on the bank like one left for death, so weary and so worn with
+all the horrors of the way that his heart was faint within him, and peace
+itself seemed to him but an illusion. He lay silent while they watched
+and waited, then turned himself upon the grass, which was as soft to the
+weary wayfarer as angels' wings; and then the sunshine caught his eye, as
+if he had been a newborn babe awakened to the light. He put out his hand
+to it, and touched the ground that was golden with those heavenly rays,
+and gathered himself up till he felt it upon his face, and opened wide
+his dazzled eyes, then shaded them with trembling hands, and said to
+himself, 'It is the sun; it is the sun!' But still he did not dare to
+believe that the danger and the toil were over, nor could he listen, nor
+understand what the brethren said. While they all stood around and
+watched and waited, wondering each how the new-comer should be satisfied,
+there suddenly arose a sound with which they were all acquainted,--the
+sound of One approaching. The faces of the blessed were all around like
+the stars in the sky,--multitudes whom none could count or reckon; but He
+who came was seen of none, save him to whom He came. The weary man rose
+up with a great cry, then fell again upon his knees, and flung his arms
+wide in the wonder and the joy. And 'Lord,' he cried, 'was it Thou?
+Lord, it was Thou! Thine was the face. And Thou hast brought me here!'
+
+The watchers knew not what the other voice said, for what is said to each
+new-comer is the secret of the Lord. But when they looked again, the man
+stood upright upon his feet, and his face was full of light; and though
+he trembled with weakness and with weariness, and with exceeding joy, yet
+the confusion and the fear were gone from him. And he had no longer any
+suspicion of them, as if they might betray him, but held out his
+trembling hands and cried, 'Friends,--you are friends? and you spoke to
+me and called me brother? And am I here? And am I here?' For to name the
+name of that blessed country was not needful any longer, now that he had
+seen the Lord.
+
+Then a great band and guard of honor, of angels and principalities and
+powers, surrounded him, and led him away to the holy city, and to the
+presence of the Father, who had permitted and had not forbidden what the
+Lord had done. And all the companies of the blessed followed after with
+wonder and gladness and triumph, because the great love of the Lord had
+drawn out of the darkness even those who were beyond hope.
+
+The little Pilgrim saw them depart from her with love and joy, and sat
+down upon the rocky edge and sang her own song of peace; for her fear was
+gone, and she was ready to do her service there upon the verge of the
+precipice as among the flowers and the sunshine, where her own place was.
+'From the depths,' she said, 'they come, they come!--from the land of
+darkness, where no love is. For Thy love, O Lord, is more than the
+darkness and the depths. And where hope is not, there Thy pity goes.' She
+sat and sang to herself like a happy child, for her heart had fathomed
+the awful gloom which baffles angels and men; and she had learned that
+though hope comes to an end and light fails, and the feet of the
+ambassadors are stayed on the mountains, and the voice of the pleaders is
+silenced, and darkness swallows up the world, yet Love never fails. As
+she sang, the pity in her heart grew so strong, and her desire to help
+the lost, that she rose up and stepped forth into the awful gloom, and
+had it been permitted, in her gentleness and weakness would have gone
+forth to the deeps and had no fear.
+
+The ground gave way under her feet, so dreadful was the precipice; but
+though her heart beat with the horror of it, and the whirl of the descent
+and the darkness which blinded her eyes, yet had she no hurt. And when
+her foot touched the rock, and that sinking sense of emptiness and
+vacancy ceased, she looked around and saw the path by which that
+traveller had come. For when the eyes are used to the darkness, the
+horror of the gloom was no longer like a solid thing, but moved into
+shades of darker and less dark, so that she saw where the rocks stood,
+and how they sank with edges that cut like swords down and ever down into
+the abysses; and how here a deep ravine was rent between them, and there
+were breaks and scars as though some one had caught the jagged points
+with wounded hand or foot, struggling up the perpendicular surface
+towards the little ray of light, like a tiny star which shone as on
+immeasurable heights to show where life was. As she travelled deeper and
+deeper, it was a wonder to see how far that little ray penetrated down
+and down through gulfs of darkness, blue and cold like the shimmer of a
+diamond, and even when it could be seen no more, sent yet a shadowy
+refraction, a line of something less black than the darkness, a
+lightening amid the gloom, a something indefinable which was hope. The
+rocks were more cruel than imagination could conceive,--sometimes pointed
+and sharp like knives, sometimes smooth and upright as a wall with no
+hold for the climber, sometimes moving under the touch, with stones that
+rolled and crushed the bleeding feet; and though the solid masses were
+distinguishable from the lighter darkness of the air, yet it could only
+be in groping that the travellers by that way could find where any
+foothold was. The traveller who came from above, and who had the
+privilege of her happiness, sank down as if borne on wings, yet needed
+all her courage not to be afraid of the awful rocks that rose all above
+and around her, perpendicular in the gloom. And the great blast of an icy
+wind swept upwards like something flying upon great wings, so tremendous
+was the force of it, whirling from the depths below, sucked upwards by
+the very warmth of the life above; so that the little Pilgrim herself
+caught at the rocks that she might not be swept again towards the top, or
+dashed against the stony pinnacles that stood up on every side. She was
+glad when she found a little platform under her feet for a moment where
+she could rest, and also because she had come, not from curiosity to see
+that gulf, but with the hope and desire to meet some one to whom she
+could be of a little comfort or help in the terrors of the way.
+
+While she stood for a moment to get her breath, she became sensible that
+some living thing was near; and putting out her hand she felt that there
+was round her something that was like a bastion upon a fortified wall,
+and immediately a hand touched hers, and a soft voice said, 'Sister, fear
+not! for this is the watch-tower, and I am one of those who keep the
+way.' She had started and trembled indeed, not that she feared, but
+because the delicate fabric of her being was such that every movement of
+the wind, and even those that were instinctive and belonged to the habits
+of another life, betrayed themselves in her. And 'Oh,' she said, 'I knew
+not that there were any watch-towers, or any one to help, but came
+because my heart called me, if perhaps I might hold out my hand in the
+darkness, and be of use where there was no light.'
+
+'Come and stand by me,' said the watcher; and the little Pilgrim saw that
+there was a whiteness near to her, out of which slowly shaped the face of
+a fair and tender woman, whom she knew not, but loved. And though they
+could scarcely see each other, yet they knew each other for sisters, and
+kissed and took comfort together, holding each other's hands in the midst
+of the awful gloom. And the little Pilgrim questioned in low and hushed
+tones, 'Is it to help that you are here?'
+
+'To help when that may be; but rather to watch, and to send the news and
+make it known that one is coming, that the bells of joy may be sounded,
+and all the blessed may rejoice.'
+
+'Oh,' said the little Pilgrim, 'tell me your name, that I may do you
+honor,--for to gain such high promotion can be given only to the great
+who are made perfect, and to those who love most.'
+
+'I am not great,' said the watcher; 'but the Lord, who considers all, has
+placed me here, that I may be the first to see when one comes who is in
+the dark places below. And also because there are some who say that love
+is idolatry, and that the Father will not have us long for our own,
+therefore am I permitted to wait and watch and think the time not long
+for the love I bear him. For he is mine; and when he comes I will ascend
+with him to the dear country of the light, and some other who loves
+enough will be promoted in my place.'
+
+'I am not worthy,' said the little Pilgrim. 'It is a great promotion;
+but oh, that we might be permitted to help, to put out a hand, or to
+clear the way!'
+
+'Nay, my little sister,' said the watcher, 'but patience must have its
+perfect work; and for those who are coming help is secret. They must not
+see it nor know it, for the land of darkness is beyond hope. The Father
+will not force the will of any creature He has made, for He respects us
+in our nature, which is His image. And when a man will not, and will not
+till the day is over, what can be done for him? He is left to his will,
+and is permitted to do it as it seems good in his eyes. A man's will is
+great, for it is the gift of God. But the Lord, who cannot rest while one
+is miserable, still goes secretly to them, for His heart yearns after
+them. And by times they will see His face, or some thought of old will
+seize upon them. And some will say, "To perish upon the dark mountains is
+better than to live here." And I have seen,' said the watcher, 'that the
+Lord will go with them all the way--but secretly, so that they cannot see
+Him. And though it grieves His heart not to help, yet will He not,--for
+they have become the creatures of their own will, and by that must they
+attain.' She put out her hand to the new-comer and drew her to the side
+of the rocky wall, so that they felt the sweep of the wind in their
+faces; but were not driven before it. 'And come,' she said, 'for two of
+us together will be like a great light to those who are in the darkness.
+They will see us like a lamp, and it will cheer them, though they know
+not why we are here. Listen!' she cried. And the little Pilgrim, holding
+fast the hand of the watcher, listened and looked down upon the awful
+way; and underneath the sweep of the icy wind was a small sharp sound as
+of a stone rolling or a needle of rock that broke and fell, like the
+sounds that are in a wood when some creature moves, though too far off
+for footstep to sound. 'Listen!' said the watcher; and her face so shone
+with joy that the little Pilgrim saw it clearly, like the shining of the
+morning in the midst of the darkness. 'He comes!'
+
+'Oh, sister!' she cried, 'is it he whom you love above all the rest?
+Is it he?'
+
+The watcher smiled and said, 'If it is not he, yet is it a brother; if
+it is not he now, yet his time will come. And in every one who passes, I
+hope to see his face; and the more that come, the more certain it is
+that he will come. And the time seems not long for the love I bear him.
+And it is for this that the Lord has so considered me. Listen! for some
+one comes.'
+
+And there came to these watchers the strangest sight; for there flew past
+them while they gazed a man who seemed to be carried upon the sweep of
+the wind. In the midst of the darkness they could see the faint white in
+his face, with eyes of flame and lips set firm, whirled forward upon the
+wind, which would have dashed him against the rocks; but as he whirled
+past, he caught with his hand the needles of the opposite peaks, and was
+swung high over a great chasm, and landed upon a higher height, high over
+their heads. And for a moment they could hear, like a pulsation through
+the depths, the hard panting of his breath; then, with scarcely a moment
+for rest, they heard the sound of his progress onward, as if he did
+battle with the mountain, and his own swiftness carried him like another
+wind. It had taken less than a moment to sweep him past, quicker than the
+flight of a bird, as sudden as a lightning flash. The little Pilgrim
+followed him with her eager ears, wondering if he would leap thus into
+the country of light and take heaven by storm, or whether he would fall
+upon the heavenly hills, and lie prostrate in weariness and exhaustion,
+like him to whom she had ministered. She followed him with her ears, for
+the sound of his progress was with crashing of rocks and a swift movement
+in the air; but she was called back by the pressure of the hand of the
+watcher, who did not, like the little Pilgrim, follow him who thus rushed
+through space as far as there was sound or sight of him, but had turned
+again to the lower side, and was gazing once more, and listening for the
+little noises in the gulf below. The little Pilgrim remembered her
+friend's hope, and said softly, 'It was not he?' And the watcher clasped
+her hand again, and answered, 'It was a dear brother. I have sounded the
+silver bells for him; and soon we shall hear them answering from the
+heights above. And another time it will be he.' And they kissed each
+other because they understood each the other in her heart.
+
+And then they talked together of the old life when all things began; and
+of the wonderful things they had learned concerning the love of the
+Father and the Son; and how all the world was held by them and
+penetrated through and through by threads of love, so that it could
+never fail. And the darkness seemed light round them; and they forgot
+for a little that the wind was not as a summer breeze. Then once more
+the hand of the watcher pressed that of her companion, and bade her hush
+and listen; and they sat together holding their breath, straining their
+ears. Then heard they faint sounds which were very different from those
+made by him who had been driven past them like an arrow from a
+bow,--first as of something falling, but very far away, and a faint
+sound as of a foot which slipped. The listeners did not say a word to
+each other; they sat still and listened, scarcely drawing their breath.
+The darkness had no voice; it could not be but that some traveller was
+there, though hidden deep, deep in the gloom, only betrayed by the
+sound. There was a long pause, and the watcher held fast the little
+Pilgrim's hand, and betrayed to her the longing in her heart; for though
+she was already blessed beyond all blessedness known on earth, yet had
+she not forgotten the love that had begun on earth, but was forevermore.
+She murmured to herself and said, 'If it is not he, it is a brother; and
+the more that come, the more sure it is that he will come. Little
+sister, is there one for whom you watch?'
+
+'There is no one,' the Pilgrim said,--'but all.'
+
+'And so care I for all,' cried the watcher; and she drew her companion
+with her to the edge of the abyss, and they sat down upon it low among
+the rocks to escape the rushing of the wind. And they sang together a
+soft song; 'For if he should hear us,' she said, 'it may give him
+courage.' And there they sat and sang; and the white of their garments
+and of their heavenly faces showed like a light in the deep gloom, so
+that he who was toiling upwards might see that speck above him, and be
+encouraged to continue upon his way.
+
+Sometimes he fell, and they could hear the moan he made,--for every sound
+came upwards, however small and faint it might be,--and sometimes dragged
+himself along, so that they heard his movement up some shelf of rock. And
+as the Pilgrim looked, she saw other and other dim whitenesses along the
+ravines of the dark mountains, and knew that she was not the only one,
+but that many had come to watch and look for the coming of those who had
+been lost.
+
+Time was as nothing to these heavenly watchers; but they knew how long
+and terrible were the moments to those upon the way. Sometimes there
+would be silence like the silence of long years; and fear came upon them
+that the wayfarer had turned back, or that he had fallen, and lay
+suffering at the bottom of some gulf, or had been swept by the wind upon
+some icy peak and dashed against the rocks. Then anon, while they
+listened and held their breath, a little sound would strike again into
+the silence; bringing back hope; and again and again all would be still.
+The little Pilgrim held her companion's hand; and the thought went
+through her mind that were she watching for one whom she loved above the
+rest, her heart would fail. But the watcher answered her as if she had
+spoken, and said, 'Oh, no, oh, no; for if it is not he, it is a brother;
+and the Lord give them joy!' But they sang no more, their hearts being
+faint with suspense and with eagerness to hear every sound.
+
+Then in the great chill of the silence, suddenly, and not far off, came
+the sound of one who spoke. He murmured to himself and said, 'Who can
+continue on this terrible way? The night is black like hell, and there
+comes no morning. It was better in the land of darkness, for still we
+could see the face of man, though not God.' The muffled voice shook at
+that word, and then was still suddenly, as though it had been a flame and
+the wind had blown it out. And for a moment there was silence; until
+suddenly it broke forth once more,--
+
+'What is this that has come to me that I can say the name of God? It
+tortures no longer, it is as balm. But He is far off and hears nothing.
+He called us and we answered not. Now it is we who call, and He will not
+hear. I will lie down and die. It cannot be that a man must live and live
+forever in pain and anguish. Here will I lie, and it will end. O Thou
+whose face I have seen in the night, make it possible for a man to die!'
+
+The watcher loosed herself from her companion's clasp, and stood upright
+upon the edge of the cliff, clasping her hands together and saying low,
+as to herself, 'Father, Father!' as one who cannot refrain from that
+appeal, but who knows the Father loves best, and that to intercede is
+vain; and longing was in her face and joy. For it was he, and she knew
+that he could not now fail, but would reach to the celestial country and
+to the shining of the sun; yet that it was not hers to help him, nor any
+man's, nor angel's. But the little Pilgrim was ignorant, not having been
+taught; and she committed herself to those depths, though she feared
+them, and though she knew not what she could do. And once more the dense
+air closed over her, and the vacancy swallowed her up, and when she
+reached the rocks below, there lay something at her feet which she felt
+to be a man; but she could not see him nor touch him, and when she tried
+to speak, her voice died away in her throat and made no sound. Whether it
+was the wind that caught it and swept it quite away, or that the well of
+that depth profound sucked every note upwards, or whether because it was
+not permitted that either man or angel should come out of their sphere,
+or help be given which was forbidden, the little Pilgrim knew not,--for
+never had it been said to her that she should stand aside where need was.
+And surprise which was stronger than the icy wind, and for a moment a
+great dismay, took hold upon her,--for she understood not how it was that
+the bond of silence should bind her, and that she should be unable to put
+forth her hand to help him whom she heard moaning and murmuring, but
+could not see. And scarcely could her feet keep hold of the awful rock,
+or her form resist the upward sweep of the wind; but though he saw her
+not nor she him, yet could not she leave him in his weakness and misery,
+saying to herself that even if she could do nothing, it must be well that
+a little love should be near.
+
+Then she heard him speak again, crouching under the rock at her feet;
+and he said faintly to himself, 'That was no dream. In the land of
+darkness there are no dreams nor voices that speak within us. On the
+earth they were never silent struggling and crying; but there--all blank
+and still. Therefore it was no dream. It was One who came and looked me
+in the face; and love was in His eyes. I have not seen love, oh, for so
+long! But it was no dream. If God is a dream I know not, but love I know.
+And He said to me, "Arise and go." But to whom must I go? The words are
+words that once I knew, and the face I knew. But to whom, to whom?'
+
+The little Pilgrim cried aloud, so that she thought the rocks must be
+rent by the vehemence of her cry, calling like the other, 'Father,
+Father, Father!' as if her heart would burst; and it was like despair to
+think that she made no sound, and that the brother could not hear her who
+lay thus fainting at her feet. Yet she could not stop, but went on crying
+like a child that has lost its way; for to whom could a child call but to
+her father, and all the more when she cannot understand? And she called
+out and said that God was not His name save to strangers, if there are
+any strangers, but that His name was Father, and it was to Him that all
+must go. And all her being thrilled like a bird with its song, so that
+the very air stirred; yet no voice came. And she lifted up her face to
+the watcher above, and beheld where she stood holding up her hands a
+little whiteness in the great dark. But though these two were calling and
+calling, the silence was dumb. And neither of them could take him by the
+hand nor lift him up, nor show him, far, far above, the little diamond of
+the light, but were constrained to stand still and watch, seeing that he
+was one of those who are beyond hope.
+
+After she had waited a long time, he stirred again in the dark and
+murmured to himself once more, saying low, 'I have slept and am
+strong. And while I was sleeping He has come again; He has looked at
+me again. And somewhere I will find Him. I will arise and go; I will
+arise and go--'
+
+And she heard him move at her feet and grope over the rock with his
+hands; but it was smooth as snow with no holding, and slippery as ice.
+And the watcher stood above and the Pilgrim below, but could not help
+him. He groped and groped, and murmured to himself, ever saying, 'I
+will arise and go.' And their hearts were wrung that they could not
+speak to him nor touch him nor help him. But at last in the dark there
+burst forth a great cry, 'Who said it?' and then a sound of weeping,
+and amid the weeping, words. 'As when I was a child, as when hope
+was--I will arise and I will go--to my Father, to my Father! for now I
+remember, and I know.'
+
+The little Pilgrim sank down into a crevice of the rocks in the weakness
+of her great joy. And something passed her mounting up and up; and it
+seemed to her that he had touched her shoulder or her hand unawares, and
+that the dumb cry in her heart had reached him, and that it had been good
+for him that a little love stood by, though only to watch and to weep.
+And she listened and heard him go on and on; and she herself ascended
+higher to the watch-tower. And the watcher was gone who had waited there
+for her beloved, for she had gone with him, as the Lord had promised her,
+to be the one who should lead him to the holy city and to see the
+Father's face. And it was given to the little Pilgrim to sound the silver
+bells and to warn all the bands of the blessed, and the great angels and
+lords of the whole world, that from out the land of darkness and from the
+regions beyond hope another had come.
+
+She remained not there long, because there were many who sought that
+place that they might be the first to see if one beloved was among the
+travellers by that terrible way, and to welcome the brother or sister who
+was the most dear to them of all the children of the Father. But it was
+thus that she learned the last lesson of all that is in heaven and that
+is in earth, and in the heights above and in the depths below, which the
+great angels desire to look into, and all the princes and powers. And it
+is this: that there is that which is beyond hope yet not beyond love; and
+that hope may fail and be no longer possible, but love cannot fail,--for
+hope is of men, but love is the Lord; and there is but one thing which to
+Him is not possible, which is to forget; and that even when the Father
+has hidden His face and help is forbidden, yet there goes He secretly and
+cannot forbear.
+
+But if there were any deep more profound, and to which access was not,
+either from the dark mountains or by any other way, the Pilgrim was not
+taught, nor ever found any knowledge, either among the angels who know
+all things, or among her brothers who were the children of men.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+THE LAND OF DARKNESS.
+
+
+I found myself standing on my feet, with the tingling sensation of having
+come down rapidly upon the ground from a height. There was a similar
+feeling in my head, as of the whirling and sickening sensation of passing
+downwards through the air, like the description Dante gives of his
+descent upon Geryon. My mind, curiously enough, was sufficiently
+disengaged to think of that, or at least to allow swift passage for the
+recollection through my thoughts. All the aching of wonder, doubt, and
+fear which I had been conscious of a little while before was gone. There
+was no distinct interval between the one condition and the other, nor in
+my fall (as I supposed it must have been) had I any consciousness of
+change. There was the whirling of the air, resisting my passage, yet
+giving way under me in giddy circles, and then the sharp shock of once
+more feeling under my feet something solid, which struck, yet sustained.
+After a little while the giddiness above and the tingling below passed
+away, and I felt able to look about me and discern where I was. But not
+all at once; the things immediately about me impressed me first, then the
+general aspect of the new place.
+
+First of all the light, which was lurid, as if a thunder-storm were
+coming on. I looked up involuntarily to see if it had begun to rain; but
+there was nothing of the kind, though what I saw above me was a lowering
+canopy of cloud, dark, threatening, with a faint reddish tint diffused
+upon the vaporous darkness. It was, however, quite sufficiently clear to
+see everything, and there was a good deal to see. I was in a street of
+what seemed a great and very populous place. There were shops on either
+side, full apparently of all sorts of costly wares. There was a continual
+current of passengers up and down on both sides of the way, and in the
+middle of the street carriages of every description, humble and splendid.
+The noise was great and ceaseless; the traffic continual. Some of the
+shops were most brilliantly lighted, attracting one's eyes in the sombre
+light outside, which, however, had just enough of day in it to make these
+spots of illumination look sickly. Most of the places thus distinguished
+were apparently bright with the electric or some other scientific light;
+and delicate machines of every description, brought to the greatest
+perfection, were in some windows, as were also many fine productions of
+art, but mingled with the gaudiest and coarsest in a way which struck me
+with astonishment. I was also much surprised by the fact that the
+traffic, which was never stilled for a moment, seemed to have no sort of
+regulation. Some carriages dashed along, upsetting the smaller vehicles
+in their way, without the least restraint or order, either, as it seemed,
+from their own good sense or from the laws and customs of the place. When
+an accident happened, there was a great shouting, and sometimes a furious
+encounter; but nobody seemed to interfere. This was the first impression
+made upon me. The passengers on the pavement were equally regardless. I
+was myself pushed out of the way, first to one side, then to another,
+hustled when I paused for a moment, trodden upon and driven about. I
+retreated soon to the doorway of a shop, from whence with a little more
+safety I could see what was going on. The noise made my head ring. It
+seemed to me that I could not hear myself think. If this were to go on
+forever, I said to myself, I should soon go mad.
+
+'Oh, no,' said some one behind me, 'not at all. You will get used to it;
+you will be glad of it. One does not want to hear one's thoughts; most of
+them are not worth hearing.'
+
+I turned round and saw it was the master of the shop, who had come to the
+door on seeing me. He had the usual smile of a man who hoped to sell his
+wares; but to my horror and astonishment, by some process which I could
+not understand, I saw that he was saying to himself, 'What a d----d fool!
+here's another of those cursed wretches, d---- him!' all with the same
+smile. I started back, and answered him as hotly, 'What do you mean by
+calling me a d----d fool? fool yourself, and all the rest of it. Is this
+the way you receive strangers here?'
+
+'Yes,' he said with the same smile, 'this is the way; and I only describe
+you as you are, as you will soon see. Will you walk in and look over my
+shop? Perhaps you will find something to suit you if you are just setting
+up, as I suppose.'
+
+I looked at him closely, but this time I could not see that he was
+saying anything beyond what was expressed by his lips: and I followed
+him into the shop, principally because it was quieter than the street,
+and without any intention of buying,--for what should I buy in a strange
+place where I had no settled habitation, and which probably I was only
+passing through?
+
+'I will look at your things,' I said, in a way which I believe I had, of
+perhaps undue pretension. I had never been over-rich, or of very elevated
+station; but I was believed by my friends (or enemies) to have an
+inclination to make myself out something more important than I was. 'I
+will look at your things, and possibly I may find something that may suit
+me; but with all the _ateliers_ of Paris and London to draw from, it is
+scarcely to be expected that in a place like this--'
+
+Here I stopped to draw my breath, with a good deal of confusion; for I
+was unwilling to let him see that I did not know where I was.
+
+'A place like this,' said the shop-keeper, with a little laugh which
+seemed to me full of mockery, 'will supply you better, you will find,
+than--any other place. At least you will find it the only place
+practicable,' he added. 'I perceive you are a stranger here.'
+
+'Well, I may allow myself to be so, more or less. I have not had time to
+form much acquaintance with--the place; what--do you call the place?--its
+formal name, I mean,' I said with a great desire to keep up the air of
+superior information. Except for the first moment, I had not experienced
+that strange power of looking into the man below the surface which had
+frightened me. Now there occurred another gleam of insight, which gave me
+once more a sensation of alarm. I seemed to see a light of hatred and
+contempt below his smile; and I felt that he was not in the least taken
+in by the air which I assumed.
+
+'The name of the place,' he said, 'is not a pretty one. I hear the
+gentlemen who come to my shop say that it is not to be named to ears
+polite; and I am sure your ears are very polite.' He said this with the
+most offensive laugh, and I turned upon him and answered him, without
+mincing matters, with a plainness of speech which startled myself, but
+did not seem to move him, for he only laughed again. 'Are you not
+afraid,' I said, 'that I will leave your shop and never enter it more?'
+
+'Oh, it helps to pass the time,' he said; and without any further comment
+began to show me very elaborate and fine articles of furniture. I had
+always been attracted to this sort of thing, and had longed to buy such
+articles for my house when I had one, but never had it in my power. Now I
+had no house, nor any means of paying so far as I knew, but I felt quite
+at my ease about buying, and inquired into the prices with the greatest
+composure.
+
+'They are just the sort of thing I want. I will take these, I think; but
+you must set them aside for me, for I do not at the present moment
+exactly know--'
+
+'You mean you have got no rooms to put them in,' said the master of the
+shop. 'You must get a house directly, that's all. If you're only up to
+it, it is easy enough. Look about until you find something you like, and
+then--take possession.'
+
+'Take possession'--I was so much surprised that I stared at him
+with mingled indignation and surprise--'of what belongs to another
+man?' I said.
+
+I was not conscious of anything ridiculous in my look. I was indignant,
+which is not a state of mind in which there is any absurdity; but the
+shop-keeper suddenly burst into a storm of laughter. He laughed till he
+seemed almost to fall into convulsions, with a harsh mirth which reminded
+me of the old image of the crackling of thorns, and had neither amusement
+nor warmth in it; and presently this was echoed all around, and looking
+up, I saw grinning faces full of derision bent upon me from every side,
+from the stairs which led to the upper part of the house and from the
+depths of the shop behind,--faces with pens behind their ears, faces in
+workmen's caps, all distended from ear to ear, with a sneer and a mock
+and a rage of laughter which nearly sent me mad. I hurled I don't know
+what imprecations at them as I rushed out, stopping my ears in a paroxysm
+of fury and mortification. My mind was so distracted by this occurrence
+that I rushed without knowing it upon some one who was passing, and threw
+him down with the violence of my exit; upon which I was set on by a party
+of half a dozen ruffians, apparently his companions, who would, I
+thought, kill me, but who only flung me, wounded, bleeding, and feeling
+as if every bone in my body had been broken, down on the pavement, when
+they went away, laughing too.
+
+I picked myself up from the edge of the causeway, aching and sore from
+head to foot, scarcely able to move, yet conscious that if I did not get
+myself out of the way, one or other of the vehicles which were dashing
+along would run over me. It would be impossible to describe the miserable
+sensations, both of body and mind, with which I dragged myself across the
+crowded pavement, not without curses and even kicks from the passers-by,
+and avoiding the shop from which I still heard those shrieks of devilish
+laughter, gathered myself up in the shelter of a little projection of a
+wall, where I was for the moment safe. The pain which I felt was as
+nothing to the sense of humiliation, the mortification, the rage with
+which I was possessed. There is nothing in existence more dreadful than
+rage which is impotent, which cannot punish or avenge, which has to
+restrain itself and put up with insults showered upon it. I had never
+known before what that helpless, hideous exasperation was; and I was
+humiliated beyond description, brought down--I, whose inclination it was
+to make more of myself than was justifiable--to the aspect of a miserable
+ruffian beaten in a brawl, soiled, covered with mud and dust, my clothes
+torn, my face bruised and disfigured,--all this within half an hour or
+there about of my arrival in a strange place where nobody knew me or
+could do me justice! I kept looking out feverishly for some one with an
+air of authority to whom I could appeal. Sooner or later somebody must go
+by, who, seeing me in such a plight, must inquire how it came about, must
+help me and vindicate me. I sat there for I cannot tell how long,
+expecting every moment that were it but a policeman, somebody would
+notice and help me; but no one came. Crowds seemed to sweep by without a
+pause,--all hurrying, restless; some with anxious faces, as if any delay
+would be mortal; some in noisy groups intercepting the passage of the
+others. Sometimes one would pause to point me out to his comrades with a
+shout of derision at my miserable plight, or if by a change of posture I
+got outside the protection of my wall, would kick me back with a coarse
+injunction to keep out of the way. No one was sorry for me; not a look of
+compassion, not a word of inquiry was wasted upon me; no representative
+of authority appeared. I saw a dozen quarrels while I lay there, cries of
+the weak, and triumphant shouts of the strong; but that was all.
+
+I was drawn after a while from the fierce and burning sense of my own
+grievances by a querulous voice quite close to me. 'This is my corner,'
+it said. 'I've sat here for years, and I have a right to it. And here you
+come, you big ruffian, because you know I haven't got the strength to
+push you away.'
+
+'Who are you?' I said, turning round horror-stricken; for close beside me
+was a miserable man, apparently in the last stage of disease. He was pale
+as death, yet eaten up with sores. His body was agitated by a nervous
+trembling. He seemed to shuffle along on hands and feet, as though the
+ordinary mode of locomotion was impossible to him, and yet was in
+possession of all his limbs. Pain was written in his face. I drew away to
+leave him room, with mingled pity and horror that this poor wretch should
+be the partner of the only shelter I could find within so short a time of
+my arrival. I who--It was horrible, shameful, humiliating; and yet the
+suffering in his wretched face was so evident that I could not but feel a
+pang of pity too. 'I have nowhere to go,' I said. 'I am--a stranger. I
+have been badly used, and nobody seems to care.'
+
+'No,' he said, 'nobody cares; don't you look for that. Why should they?
+Why, you look as if you were sorry for _me!_ What a joke!' he murmured
+to himself,--'what a joke! Sorry for some one else! What a fool the
+fellow must be!'
+
+'You look,' I said, 'as if you were suffering horribly; and you say you
+have come here for years.'
+
+'Suffering! I should think I was,' said the sick man; 'but what is that
+to you? Yes; I've been here for years,--oh, years! that means
+nothing,--for longer than can be counted. Suffering is not the word. It's
+torture; it's agony! But who cares? Take your leg out of my way.'
+
+I drew myself out of his way from a sort of habit, though against my
+will, and asked, from habit too, 'Are you never any better than now?'
+
+He looked at me more closely, and an air of astonishment came over his
+face. 'What d'ye want here,' he said, 'pitying a man? That's something
+new here. No; I'm not always so bad, if you want to know. I get better,
+and then I go and do what makes me bad again, and that's how it will go
+on; and I choose it to be so, and you needn't bring any of your d----d
+pity here.'
+
+'I may ask, at least, why aren't you looked after? Why don't you get into
+some hospital?' I said.
+
+'Hospital!' cried the sick man, and then he too burst out into that
+furious laugh, the most awful sound I ever had heard. Some of the
+passers-by stopped to hear what the joke was, and surrounded me with once
+more a circle of mockers.
+
+'Hospitals! perhaps you would like a whole Red Cross Society, with
+ambulances and all arranged?' cried one. 'Or the _Misericordia_!' shouted
+another. I sprang up to my feet, crying, 'Why not?' with an impulse of
+rage which gave me strength. Was I never to meet with anything but this
+fiendish laughter? 'There's some authority, I suppose,' I cried in my
+fury. 'It is not the rabble that is the only master here, I hope.' But
+nobody took the least trouble to hear what I had to say for myself. The
+last speaker struck me on the mouth, and called me an accursed fool for
+talking of what I did not understand; and finally they all swept on and
+passed away.
+
+I had been, as I thought, severely injured when I dragged myself into
+that corner to save myself from the crowd; but I sprang up now as if
+nothing had happened to me. My wounds had disappeared; my bruises were
+gone. I was as I had been when I dropped, giddy and amazed, upon the
+same pavement, how long--an hour?--before? It might have been an hour,
+it might have been a year, I cannot tell. The light was the same as
+ever, the thunderous atmosphere unchanged. Day, if it was day, had
+made no progress; night, if it was evening, had come no nearer,--all
+was the same.
+
+As I went on again presently, with a vexed and angry spirit, regarding on
+every side around me the endless surging of the crowd, and feeling a
+loneliness, a sense of total abandonment and solitude, which I cannot
+describe, there came up to me a man of remarkable appearance. That he was
+a person of importance, of great knowledge and information, could not be
+doubted. He was very pale, and of a worn but commanding aspect. The lines
+of his face were deeply drawn; his eyes were sunk under high arched
+brows, from which they looked out as from caves, full of a fiery
+impatient light. His thin lips were never quite without a smile; but it
+was not a smile in which any pleasure was. He walked slowly, not
+hurrying, like most of the passengers. He had a reflective look, as if
+pondering many things. He came up to me suddenly, without introduction or
+preliminary, and took me by the arm. 'What object had you in talking of
+these antiquated institutions?' he said. And I saw in his mind the gleam
+of the thought, which seemed to be the first with all, that I was a fool,
+and that it was the natural thing to wish me harm, just as in the earth
+above it was the natural thing, professed at least, to wish well,--to
+say, Good-morning, good-day, by habit and without thought. In this
+strange country the stranger was received with a curse, and it woke an
+answer not unlike the hasty 'Curse you, then, also!' which seemed to come
+without any will of mine through my mind. But this provoked only a smile
+from my new friend. He took no notice. He was disposed to examine me, to
+find some amusement perhaps--how could I tell?--in what I might say.
+
+'What antiquated things?'
+
+'Are you still so slow of understanding? What were they--hospitals? The
+pretences of a world that can still deceive itself. Did you expect to
+find them here?'
+
+'I expected to find--how should I know?' I said, bewildered--'some
+shelter for a poor wretch where he could be cared for, not to be left
+there to die in the street. Expected! I never thought. I took it for
+granted--'
+
+'To die in the street!' he cried with a smile and a shrug of his
+shoulders. 'You'll learn better by and by. And if he did die in the
+street, what then? What is that to you?'
+
+'To me!' I turned and looked at him, amazed; but he had somehow shut his
+soul, so that I could see nothing but the deep eyes in their caves, and
+the smile upon the close-shut mouth. 'No more to me than to any one. I
+only spoke for humanity's sake, as--a fellow-creature.'
+
+My new acquaintance gave way to a silent laugh within himself, which was
+not so offensive as the loud laugh of the crowd, but yet was more
+exasperating than words can say. 'You think that matters? But it does not
+hurt you that he should he in pain. It would do you no good if he were to
+get well. Why should you trouble yourself one way or the other? Let him
+die--if he can--That makes no difference to you or me.'
+
+'I must be dull indeed,' I cried,--'slow of understanding, as you say.
+This is going back to the ideas of times beyond knowledge--before
+Christianity--' As soon as I had said this I felt somehow--I could not
+tell how--as if my voice jarred, as if something false and unnatural was
+in what I said. My companion gave my arm a twist as if with a shock of
+surprise, then laughed in his inward way again.
+
+'We don't think much of that here, nor of your modern pretences in
+general. The only thing that touches you and me is what hurts or helps
+ourselves. To be sure, it all comes to the same thing,--for I suppose it
+annoys you to see that wretch writhing; it hurts your more delicate,
+highly-cultivated consciousness.'
+
+'It has nothing to do with my consciousness,' I cried angrily; 'it is a
+shame to let a fellow-creature suffer if we can prevent it.'
+
+'Why shouldn't he suffer?' said my companion. We passed as he spoke some
+other squalid, wretched creatures shuffling among the crowd, whom he
+kicked with his foot, calling forth a yell of pain and curses. This he
+regarded with a supreme contemptuous calm which stupefied me. Nor did any
+of the passers-by show the slightest inclination to take the part of the
+sufferers. They laughed, or shouted out a gibe, or what was still more
+wonderful, went on with a complete unaffected indifference, as if all
+this was natural. I tried to disengage my arm in horror and dismay, but
+he held me fast with a pressure that hurt me. 'That's the question,' he
+said. 'What have we to do with it? Your fictitious consciousness makes it
+painful to you. To me, on the contrary, who take the view of nature, it
+is a pleasurable feeling. It enhances the amount of ease, whatever that
+may be, which I enjoy. I am in no pain. That brute who is'--and he
+flicked with a stick he carried the uncovered wound of a wretch upon the
+roadside--'makes me more satisfied with my condition. Ah! you think it
+is I who am the brute? You will change your mind by and by.'
+
+'Never!' I cried, wrenching my arm from his with an effort, 'if I should
+live a hundred years.'
+
+'A hundred years,--a drop in the bucket!' he said with his silent laugh.
+'You will live forever, and you will come to my view; and we shall meet
+in the course of ages, from time to time, to compare notes. I would say
+good-by after the old fashion, but you are but newly arrived, and I will
+not treat you so badly as that.' With which he parted from me, waving his
+hand, with his everlasting horrible smile.
+
+'Good-by!' I said to myself, 'good-by! why should it be treating me badly
+to say good-by--'
+
+I was startled by a buffet on the mouth. 'Take that!' cried some one,
+'to teach you how to wish the worst of tortures to people who have done
+you no harm.'
+
+'What have I said? I meant no harm; I repeated only what is the commonest
+civility, the merest good manners.'
+
+'You wished,' said the man who had struck me,--'I won't repeat the words:
+to me, for it was I only that heard them, the awful company that hurts
+most, that sets everything before us, both past and to come, and cuts
+like a sword and burns like fire. I'll say it to yourself, and see how it
+feels. God be with you! There! it is said, and we all must bear it,
+thanks, you fool and accursed, to you.'
+
+And then there came a pause over all the place, an awful
+stillness,--hundreds of men and women standing clutching with desperate
+movements at their hearts as if to tear them out, moving their heads as
+if to dash them against the wall, wringing their hands, with a look upon
+all their convulsed faces which I can never forget. They all turned to
+me, cursing me with those horrible eyes of anguish. And everything was
+still; the noise all stopped for a moment, the air all silent, with a
+silence that could be felt. And then suddenly out of the crowd there came
+a great piercing cry; and everything began again exactly as before.
+
+While this pause occurred, and while I stood wondering, bewildered,
+understanding nothing, there came over me a darkness, a blackness, a
+sense of misery such as never in all my life--though I have known
+troubles enough--I had felt before. All that had happened to me
+throughout my existence seemed to rise pale and terrible in a hundred
+scenes before me,--all momentary, intense, as if each was the present
+moment. And in each of these scenes I saw what I had never seen before. I
+saw where I had taken the wrong instead of the right step, in what
+wantonness, with what self-will it had been done; how God (I shuddered at
+the name) had spoken and called me, and even entreated, and I had
+withstood and refused. All the evil I had done came back, and spread
+itself out before my eyes; and I loathed it, yet knew that I had chosen
+it, and that it would be with me forever. I saw it all in the twinkling
+of an eye, in a moment, while I stood there, and all men with me, in the
+horror of awful thought. Then it ceased as it had come, instantaneously,
+and the noise and the laughter, and the quarrels and cries, and all the
+commotion of this new bewildering place, in a moment began again. I had
+seen no one while this strange paroxysm lasted. When it disappeared, I
+came to myself, emerging as from a dream, and looked into the face of the
+man whose words, not careless like mine, had brought it upon us. Our eyes
+met, and his were surrounded by curves and lines of anguish which were
+terrible to see.
+
+'Well,' he said with a short laugh, which was forced and harsh, 'how do
+you like it? that is what happens when--If it came often, who could
+endure it?' He was not like the rest. There was no sneer upon his face,
+no gibe at my simplicity. Even now, when all had recovered, he was still
+quivering with something that looked like a nobler pain. His face was
+very grave, the lines deeply drawn in it; and he seemed to be seeking no
+amusement or distraction, nor to take any part in the noise and tumult
+which was going on around.
+
+'Do you know what that cry meant?' he said. 'Did you hear that cry? It
+was some one who saw--even here once in a long time, they say, it can
+be seen--'
+
+'What can be seen?'
+
+He shook his head, looking at me with a meaning which I could not
+interpret. It was beyond the range of my thoughts. I came to know after,
+or I never could have made this record. But on that subject he said no
+more. He turned the way I was going, though it mattered nothing what way
+I went, for all were the same to me. 'You are one of the new-comers?' he
+said; 'you have not been long here--'
+
+'Tell me,' I cried, 'what you mean by _here_. Where are we? How can one
+tell who has fallen--he knows not whence or where? What is this place? I
+have never seen anything like it. It seems to me that I hate it already,
+though I know not what it is.'
+
+He shook his head once more. 'You will hate it more and more,' he said;
+'but of these dreadful streets you will never be free, unless--' And here
+he stopped again.
+
+'Unless--what? If it is possible, I will be free of them, and that
+before long.'
+
+He smiled at me faintly, as we smile at children, but not with derision.
+
+'How shall you do that? Between this miserable world and all others,
+there is a great gulf fixed. It is full of all the bitterness and tears
+that come from all the universe. These drop from them, but stagnate here.
+We, you perceive, have no tears, not even at moments--' Then, 'You will
+soon be accustomed to all this,' he said. 'You will fall into the way.
+Perhaps you will be able to amuse yourself to make it passable. Many do.
+There are a number of fine things to be seen here. If you are curious,
+come with me and I will show you. Or work,--there is even work. There is
+only one thing that is impossible, or if not impossible--' And here he
+paused again and raised his eyes to the dark clouds and lurid sky
+overhead. 'The man who gave that cry! if I could but find him! he must
+have seen--'
+
+'What could he see?' I asked. But there arose in my mind something like
+contempt. A visionary! who could not speak plainly, who broke off into
+mysterious inferences, and appeared to know more than he would say. It
+seemed foolish to waste time, when evidently there was still so much to
+see, in the company of such a man; and I began already to feel more at
+home. There was something in that moment of anguish which had wrought a
+strange familiarity in me with my surroundings. It was so great a relief
+to return out of the misery of that sharp and horrible self-realization,
+to what had come to be, in comparison, easy and well known. I had no
+desire to go back and grope among the mysteries and anguish so suddenly
+revealed. I was glad to be free from them, to be left to myself, to get a
+little pleasure perhaps like the others. While these thoughts passed
+through my mind, I had gone on without any active impulse of my own, as
+everybody else did; and my latest companion had disappeared. He saw, no
+doubt, without any need for words, what my feelings were. And I proceeded
+on my way. I felt better as I got more accustomed to the place, or
+perhaps it was the sensation of relief after that moment of indescribable
+pain. As for the sights in the streets, I began to grow used to them. The
+wretched creatures who strolled or sat about with signs of sickness or
+wounds upon them disgusted me only, they no longer called forth my pity.
+I began to feel ashamed of my silly questions about the hospital. All the
+same, it would have been a good thing to have had some receptacle for
+them, into which they might have been driven out of the way. I felt an
+inclination to push them aside as I saw other people do, but was a little
+ashamed of that impulse too; and so I went on. There seemed no quiet
+streets, so far as I could make out, in the place. Some were smaller,
+meaner, with a different kind of passengers, but the same hubbub and
+unresting movement everywhere. I saw no signs of melancholy or
+seriousness; active pain, violence, brutality, the continual shock of
+quarrels and blows, but no pensive faces about, no sorrowfulness, nor the
+kind of trouble which brings thought. Everybody was fully occupied,
+pushing on as if in a race, pausing for nothing.
+
+The glitter of the lights, the shouts, and sounds of continual going, the
+endless whirl of passers-by, confused and tired me after a while. I went
+as far out as I could go to what seemed the out-skirts of the place,
+where I could by glimpses perceive a low horizon all lurid and glowing,
+which seemed to sweep round and round. Against it in the distance stood
+up the outline, black against that red glow, of other towers and
+house-tops, so many and great that there was evidently another town
+between us and the sunset, if sunset it was. I have seen a western sky
+like it when there were storms about, and all the colors of the sky were
+heightened and darkened by angry influences. The distant town rose
+against it, cutting the firmament so that it might have been tongues of
+flame flickering between the dark solid outlines; and across the waste
+open country which lay between the two cities, there came a distant hum
+like the sound of the sea, which was in reality the roar of that other
+multitude. The country between showed no greenness or beauty; it lay dark
+under the dark overhanging sky. Here and there seemed a cluster of giant
+trees scathed as if by lightning, their bare boughs standing up as high
+as the distant towers, their trunks like black columns without foliage.
+Openings here and there, with glimmering lights, looked like the mouths
+of mines; but of passengers there were scarcely any. A figure here and
+there flew along as if pursued, imperfectly seen, a shadow only a little
+darker than the space about. And in contrast with the sound of the city,
+here was no sound at all, except the low roar on either side, and a
+vague cry or two from the openings of the mine,--a scene all drawn in
+darkness, in variations of gloom, deriving scarcely any light at all from
+the red and gloomy burning of that distant evening sky.
+
+A faint curiosity to go forwards, to see what the mines were, perhaps to
+get a share in what was brought up from them, crossed my mind. But I was
+afraid of the dark, of the wild uninhabited savage look of the landscape;
+though when I thought of it, there seemed no reason why a narrow stretch
+of country between two great towns should be alarming. But the impression
+was strong and above reason. I turned back to the street in which I had
+first alighted, and which seemed to end in a great square full of people.
+In the middle there was a stage erected, from which some one was
+delivering an oration or address of some sort. He stood beside a long
+table, upon which lay something which I could not clearly distinguish,
+except that it seemed alive, and moved, or rather writhed with convulsive
+twitchings, as if trying to get free of the bonds which confined it.
+Round the stage in front were a number of seats occupied by listeners,
+many of whom were women, whose interest seemed to be very great, some of
+them being furnished with note-books; while a great unsettled crowd
+coming and going, drifted round,--many, arrested for a time as they
+passed, proceeding on their way when the interest flagged, as is usual to
+such open-air assemblies. I followed two of those who pushed their way to
+within a short distance of the stage, and who were strong, big men, more
+fitted to elbow the crowd aside than I, after my rough treatment in the
+first place, and the agitation I had passed through, could be. I was
+glad, besides, to take advantage of the explanation which one was giving
+to the other. 'It's always fun to see this fellow demonstrate,' he said,
+'and the subject to-day's a capital one. Let's get well forward, and see
+all that's going on.'
+
+'Which subject do you mean?' said the other; 'the theme or the example?'
+And they both laughed, though I did not seize the point of the wit.
+
+'Well, both,' said the first speaker. 'The theme is nerves; and as a
+lesson in construction and the calculation of possibilities, it's fine.
+He's very clever at that. He shows how they are all strung to give as
+much pain and do as much harm as can be; and yet how well it's all
+managed, don't you know, to look the reverse. As for the example, he's a
+capital one--all nerves together, lying, if you like, just on the
+surface, ready for the knife.'
+
+'If they're on the surface I can't see where the fun is,' said the other.
+
+'Metaphorically speaking. Of course they are just where other people's
+nerves are; but he's what you call a highly organized nervous
+specimen. There will be plenty of fun. Hush! he is just going to begin.'
+
+'The arrangement of these threads of being,' said the lecturer, evidently
+resuming after a pause, 'so as to convey to the brain the most
+instantaneous messages of pain or pleasure, is wonderfully skilful and
+clever. I need not say to the audience before me, enlightened as it is by
+experiences of the most striking kind, that the messages are less of
+pleasure than of pain. They report to the brain the stroke of injury far
+more often than the thrill of pleasure; though sometimes that too, no
+doubt, or life could scarcely be maintained. The powers that be have
+found it necessary to mingle a little sweet of pleasurable sensation,
+else our miserable race would certainly have found some means of
+procuring annihilation. I do not for a moment pretend to say that the
+pleasure is sufficient to offer a just counterbalance to the other. None
+of my hearers will, I hope, accuse me of inconsistency. I am ready to
+allow that in a previous condition I asserted somewhat strongly that this
+was the case; but experience has enlightened us on that point. Our
+circumstances are now understood by us all in a manner impossible while
+we were still in a condition of incompleteness. We are all convinced that
+there is no compensation. The pride of the position, of bearing
+everything rather than give in, or making a submission we do not feel, of
+preserving our own will and individuality to all eternity, is the only
+compensation. I am satisfied with it, for my part.'
+
+The orator made a pause, holding his head high, and there was a certain
+amount of applause. The two men before me cheered vociferously. 'That is
+the right way to look at it,' one of them said. My eyes were upon them,
+with no particular motive; and I could not help starting, as I saw
+suddenly underneath their applause and laughter a snarl of cursing, which
+was the real expression of their thoughts. I felt disposed in the same
+way to curse the speaker, though I knew no reason why.
+
+He went on a little farther, explaining what he meant to do; and then
+turning round, approached the table. An assistant, who was waiting,
+uncovered it quickly. The audience stirred with quickened interest, and I
+with consternation made a step forwards, crying out with horror. The
+object on the table, writhing, twitching to get free, but bound down by
+every limb, was a living man. The lecturer went forwards calmly, taking
+his instruments from their case with perfect composure and coolness.
+'Now, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, and inserted the knife in the
+flesh, making a long clear cut in the bound arm. I shrieked out, unable
+to restrain myself. The sight of the deliberate wound, the blood, the cry
+of agony that came from the victim, the calmness of all the lookers-on,
+filled me with horror and rage indescribable. I felt myself clear the
+crowd away with a rush, and spring on the platform, I could not tell how.
+'You devil!' I cried, 'let the man go! Where is the police? Where is a
+magistrate? Let the man go this moment! fiends in human shape! I'll have
+you brought to justice!' I heard myself shouting wildly, as I flung
+myself upon the wretched sufferer, interposing between him and the knife.
+It was something like this that I said. My horror and rage were
+delirious, and carried me beyond all attempt at control.
+
+Through it all I heard a shout of laughter rising from everybody round.
+The lecturer laughed; the audience roared with that sound of horrible
+mockery which had driven me out of myself in my first experience. All
+kinds of mocking cries sounded around me. 'Let him a little blood to calm
+him down.' 'Let the fool have a taste of it himself, doctor.' Last of all
+came a voice mingled with the cries of the sufferer whom I was trying to
+shield, 'Take him instead; curse him! take him instead.' I was bending
+over the man with my arms outstretched, protecting him, when he gave vent
+to this cry. And I heard immediately behind me a shout of assent, which
+seemed to come from the two strong young men with whom I had been
+standing, and the sound of a rush to seize me. I looked round, half mad
+with terror and rage; a second more and I should have been strapped on
+the table too. I made one wild bound into the midst of the crowd; and
+struggling among the arms stretched out to catch me, amid the roar of the
+laughter and cries--fled--fled wildly, I knew not whither, in panic and
+rage and horror which no words could describe. Terror winged my feet. I
+flew, thinking as little of whom I met, or knocked down, or trod upon in
+my way, as the others did at whom I had wondered a little while ago.
+
+No distinct impression of this headlong course remains in my mind, save
+the sensation of mad fear such as I had never felt before. I came to
+myself on the edge of the dark valley which surrounded the town. All my
+pursuers had dropped off before that time; and I have the recollection of
+flinging myself upon the ground on my face in the extremity of fatigue
+and exhaustion. I must have lain there undisturbed for some time. A few
+steps came and went, passing me; but no one took any notice, and the
+absence of the noise and crowding gave me a momentary respite. But in my
+heat and fever I got no relief of coolness from the contact of the soil.
+I might have flung myself upon a bed of hot ashes, so much was it unlike
+the dewy cool earth which I expected, upon which one can always throw
+one's self with a sensation of repose. Presently the uneasiness of it
+made me struggle up again and look around me. I was safe; at least the
+cries of the pursuers had died away, the laughter which made my blood
+boil offended my ears no more. The noise of the city was behind me,
+softened into an indefinite roar by distance, and before me stretched out
+the dreary landscape in which there seemed no features of attraction.
+Now that I was nearer to it, I found it not so unpeopled as I thought. At
+no great distance from me was the mouth of one of the mines, from which
+came an indication of subterranean lights; and I perceived that the
+flying figures which I had taken for travellers between one city and
+another were in reality wayfarers endeavoring to keep clear of what
+seemed a sort of press-gang at the openings. One of them, unable to stop
+himself in his flight, adopted the same expedient as myself, and threw
+himself on the ground close to me when he had got beyond the range of
+pursuit. It was curious that we should meet there, he flying from a
+danger which I was about to face, and ready to encounter that from which
+I had fled. I waited for a few minutes till he had recovered his breath,
+and then, 'What are you running from?' I said. 'Is there any danger
+there?' The man looked up at me with the same continual question in his
+eyes,--Who is this fool?
+
+'Danger!' he said. 'Are you so new here, or such a cursed idiot, as not
+to know the danger of the mines? You are going across yourself, I
+suppose, and then you'll see.'
+
+'But tell me,' I said; 'my experience may be of use to you afterwards,
+if you will tell me yours now.'
+
+'Of use!' he cried, staring; 'who cares? Find out for yourself. If they
+get hold of you, you will soon understand.'
+
+I no longer took this for rudeness, but answered in his own way, cursing
+him too for a fool. 'If I ask a warning I can give one; as for kindness,'
+I said, 'I was not looking for that.'
+
+At this he laughed, indeed we laughed together,--there seemed something
+ridiculous in the thought; and presently he told me, for the mere relief
+of talking, that round each of these pit-mouths there was a band to
+entrap every passer-by who allowed himself to be caught, and send him
+down below to work in the mine. 'Once there, there is no telling when you
+may get free,' he said; 'one time or other most people have a taste of
+it. You don't know what hard labor is if you have never been there. I had
+a spell once. There is neither air nor light; your blood boils in your
+veins from the fervent heat; you are never allowed to rest. You are put
+in every kind of contortion to get at it, your limbs twisted, and your
+muscles strained.'
+
+'For what?' I said.
+
+'For gold!' he cried with a flash in his eyes--'gold! There it is
+inexhaustible; however hard you may work, there is always more, and
+more!'
+
+'And to whom does all that belong?' I said. 'To whoever is strong enough
+to get hold and keep possession,--sometimes one, sometimes another. The
+only thing you are sure of is that it will never be you.'
+
+Why not I as well as another? was the thought that went through my mind,
+and my new companion spied it with a shriek of derision.
+
+'It is not for you nor your kind,' he cried. 'How do you think you could
+force other people to serve _you_? Can you terrify them or hurt them, or
+give them anything? You have not learned yet who are the masters here.'
+
+This troubled me, for it was true. 'I had begun to think,' I said, 'that
+there was no authority at all,--for every man seems to do as he pleases;
+you ride over one, and knock another down, or you seize a living man and
+cut him to pieces'--I shuddered as I thought of it--'and there is nobody
+to interfere.'
+
+'Who should interfere?' he said. 'Why shouldn't every man amuse himself
+as he can? But yet for all that we've got our masters,' he cried with a
+scowl, waving his clinched fist in the direction of the mines; 'you'll
+find it out when you get there.'
+
+It was a long time after this before I ventured to move, for here it
+seemed to me that for the moment I was safe,--outside the city, yet not
+within reach of the dangers of that intermediate space which grew clearer
+before me as my eyes became accustomed to the lurid threatening afternoon
+light. One after another the fugitives came flying past me,--people who
+had escaped from the armed bands whom I could now see on the watch near
+the pit's mouth. I could see too the tactics of these bands,--how they
+retired, veiling the lights and the opening, when a greater number than
+usual of travellers appeared on the way, and then suddenly widening out,
+throwing out flanking lines, surrounded and drew in the unwary. I could
+even hear the cries with which their victims disappeared over the opening
+which seemed to go down into the bowels of the earth. By and by there
+came flying towards me a wretch more dreadful in aspect than any I had
+seen. His scanty clothes seemed singed and burned into rags; his hair,
+which hung about his face unkempt and uncared for, had the same singed
+aspect; his skin was brown and baked. I got up as he approached, and
+caught him and threw him to the ground, without heeding his struggles to
+get on. 'Don't you see,' he cried with a gasp, 'they may get me again.'
+He was one of those who had escaped out of the mines; but what was it to
+me whether they caught him again or not? I wanted to know how he had been
+caught, and what he had been set to do, and how he had escaped. Why
+should I hesitate to use my superior strength when no one else did? I
+kept watch over him that he should not get away.
+
+'You have been in the mines?' I said.
+
+'Let me go!' he cried. 'Do you need to ask?' and he cursed me as he
+struggled, with the most terrible imprecations. 'They may get me yet.
+Let me go!'
+
+'Not till you tell me,' I cried. 'Tell me and I'll protect you. If they
+come near I'll let you go. Who are they, man? I must know.'
+
+He struggled up from the ground, clearing his hot eyes from the ashes
+that were in them, and putting aside his singed hair. He gave me a glance
+of hatred and impotent resistance (for I was stronger than he), and then
+cast a wild terrified look back. The skirmishers did not seem to remark
+that anybody had escaped, and he became gradually a little more composed.
+'Who are they?' he said hoarsely. 'They're cursed wretches like you and
+me; and there are as many bands of them as there are mines on the road;
+and you'd better turn back and stay where you are. You are safe here.'
+
+'I will not turn back,' I said.
+
+'I know well enough: you can't. You've got to go the round like the
+rest,' he said with a laugh which was like a sound uttered by a wild
+animal rather than a human voice. The man was in my power, and I struck
+him, miserable as he was. It seemed a relief thus to get rid of some of
+the fury in my mind. 'It's a lie,' I said; 'I go because I please. Why
+shouldn't I gather a band of my own if I please, and fight those brutes,
+not fly from them like you?'
+
+He chuckled and laughed below his breath, struggling and cursing and
+crying out, as I struck him again, 'You gather a band! What could you
+offer them? Where would you find them? Are you better than the rest of
+us? Are you not a man like the rest? Strike me you can, for I'm down. But
+make yourself a master and a chief--you!'
+
+'Why not I?' I shouted again, wild with rage and the sense that I had no
+power over him, save to hurt him. That passion made my hands tremble; he
+slipped from me in a moment, bounded from the ground like a ball, and
+with a yell of derision escaped, and plunged into the streets and the
+clamor of the city from which I had just flown. I felt myself rage after
+him, shaking my fists with a consciousness of the ridiculous passion of
+impotence that was in me, but no power of restraining it; and there was
+not one of the fugitives who passed, however desperate he might be, who
+did not make a mock at me as he darted by. The laughing-stock of all
+those miserable objects, the sport of fate, afraid to go forwards, unable
+to go back, with a fire in my veins urging me on! But presently I grew a
+little calmer out of mere exhaustion, which was all the relief that was
+possible to me. And by and by, collecting all my faculties, and impelled
+by this impulse, which I seemed unable to resist, I got up and went
+cautiously on.
+
+Fear can act in two ways: it paralyzes, and it renders cunning. At this
+moment I found it inspire me. I made my plans before I started, how to
+steal along under the cover of the blighted brushwood which broke the
+line of the valley here and there. I set out only after long thought,
+seizing the moment when the vaguely perceived band were scouring in the
+other direction intercepting the travellers. Thus, with many pauses, I
+got near to the pit's mouth in safety. But my curiosity was as great as,
+almost greater than my terror. I had kept far from the road, dragging
+myself sometimes on hands and feet over broken ground, tearing my clothes
+and my flesh upon the thorns; and on that farther side all seemed so
+silent and so dark in the shadow cast by some disused machinery, behind
+which the glare of the fire from below blazed upon the other side of the
+opening, that I could not crawl along in the darkness, and pass, which
+would have been the safe way, but with a breathless hot desire to see and
+know, dragged myself to the very edge to look down. Though I was in the
+shadow, my eyes were nearly put out by the glare on which I gazed. It was
+not fire; it was the lurid glow of the gold, glowing like flame, at which
+countless miners were working. They were all about like flies,--some on
+their knees, some bent double as they stooped over their work, some lying
+cramped upon shelves and ledges. The sight was wonderful, and terrible
+beyond description. The workmen seemed to consume away with the heat and
+the glow, even in the few minutes I gazed. Their eyes shrank into their
+heads; their faces blackened. I could see some trying to secret morsels
+of the glowing metal, which burned whatever it touched, and some who were
+being searched by the superiors of the mines, and some who were punishing
+the offenders, fixing them up against the blazing wall of gold. The fear
+went out of my mind, so much absorbed was I in this sight. I gazed,
+seeing farther and farther every moment into crevices and seams of the
+glowing metal, always with more and more slaves at work, and the entire
+pantomime of labor and theft, and search and punishment, going on and
+on,--the baked faces dark against the golden glare, the hot eyes taking a
+yellow reflection, the monotonous clamor of pick and shovel, and cries
+and curses, and all the indistinguishable sound of a multitude of human
+creatures. And the floor below, and the low roof which overhung whole
+myriads within a few inches of their faces, and the irregular walls all
+breached and shelved, were every one the same, a pandemonium of
+gold,--gold everywhere. I had loved many foolish things in my life, but
+never this; which was perhaps why I gazed and kept my sight, though there
+rose out of it a blast of heat which scorched the brain.
+
+While I stooped over, intent on the sight, some one who had come up by
+my side to gaze too was caught by the fumes (as I suppose), for suddenly
+I was aware of a dark object falling prone into the glowing interior with
+a cry and crash which brought back my first wild panic. He fell in a
+heap, from which his arms shot forth wildly as he reached the bottom, and
+his cry was half anguish yet half desire. I saw him seized by half a
+dozen eager watchers, and pitched upon a ledge just under the roof, and
+tools thrust into his hands. I held on by an old shaft, trembling, unable
+to move. Perhaps I cried too in my horror,--for one of the overseers who
+stood in the centre of the glare looked up. He had the air of ordering
+all that was going on, and stood unaffected by the blaze, commanding the
+other wretched officials, who obeyed him like dogs. He seemed to me, in
+my terror, like a figure of gold, the image perhaps of wealth or Pluto,
+or I know not what, for I suppose my brain began to grow confused, and my
+hold on the shaft to relax. I had strength enough, however (for I cared
+not for the gold), to fling myself back the other way upon the ground,
+where I rolled backwards, downwards, I knew not how, turning over and
+over upon sharp ashes and metallic edges, which tore my hair and
+beard.--and for a moment I knew no more.
+
+This fall saved me. I came to myself after a time, and heard the
+press-gang searching about. I had sense to lie still among the ashes
+thrown up out of the pit, while I heard their voices. Once I gave myself
+up for lost. The glitter of a lantern flashed in my eyes, a foot passed,
+crashing among the ashes so close to my cheek that the shoe grazed it. I
+found the mark after, burned upon my flesh; but I escaped notice by a
+miracle. And presently I was able to drag myself up and crawl away; but
+how I reached the end of the valley I cannot tell. I pushed my way along
+mechanically on the dark side. I had no further desire to see what was
+going on in the openings of the mines. I went on, stumbling and stupid,
+scarcely capable even of fear, conscious only of wretchedness and
+weariness, till at last I felt myself drop across the road within the
+gateway of the other town, and lay there with no thought of anything but
+the relief of being at rest.
+
+When I came to myself, it seemed to me that there was a change in the
+atmosphere and the light. It was less lurid, paler, gray, more like
+twilight than the stormy afternoon of the other city. A certain dead
+serenity was in the sky,--black paleness, whiteness, everything faint in
+it. This town was walled, but the gates stood open, and I saw no defences
+of troops or other guardians. I found myself lying across the threshold,
+but pushed to one side, so that the carriages which went and came should
+not be stopped or I injured by their passage. It seemed to me that there
+was some thoughtfulness and kindness in this action, and my heart sprang
+up in a reaction of hope. I looked back as if upon a nightmare on the
+dreadful city which I had left, on its tumults and noise, the wild racket
+of the streets, the wounded wretches who sought refuge in the corners,
+the strife and misery that were abroad, and, climax of all, the horrible
+entertainment which had been going on in the square, the unhappy being
+strapped upon the table. How, I said to myself, could such things be? Was
+it a dream? Was it a nightmare? Was it something presented to me in a
+vision,--a strong delusion to make me think that the old fables which had
+been told concerning the end of mortal life were true? When I looked back
+it appeared like an allegory, so that I might have seen it in a dream;
+and still more like an allegory were the gold mines in the valley, and
+the myriads who labored there. Was it all true, or only a reflection
+from the old life mingling with the strange novelties which would most
+likely elude understanding on the entrance into this new? I sat within
+the shelter of the gateway on my awakening, and thought over all this. My
+heart was calm,--almost, in the revulsion from the terrors I had been
+through, happy. I persuaded myself that I was but now beginning; that
+there had been no reality in these latter experiences, only a curious
+succession of nightmares, such as might so well be supposed to follow a
+wonderful transformation like that which must take place between our
+mortal life and--the world to come. The world to come! I paused and
+thought of it all, until the heart began to beat loud in my breast. What
+was this where I lay? Another world,--a world which was not happiness,
+not bliss? Oh, no; perhaps there was no world of bliss save in dreams.
+This, on the other hand, I said to myself, was not misery; for was not I
+seated here, with a certain tremulousness about me, it was true, after
+all the experiences which, supposing them even to have been but dreams, I
+had come through,--a tremulousness very comprehensible, and not at all
+without hope?
+
+I will not say that I believed even what I tried to think. Something in
+me lay like a dark shadow in the midst of all my theories; but yet I
+succeeded to a great degree in convincing myself that the hope in me was
+real, and that I was but now beginning--beginning with at least a
+possibility that all might be well. In this half conviction, and after
+all the troubles that were over (even though they might only have been
+imaginary troubles), I felt a certain sweetness in resting there within
+the gateway, with my back against it. I was unwilling to get up again,
+and bring myself in contact with reality. I felt that there was pleasure
+in being left alone. Carriages rolled past me occasionally, and now and
+then some people on foot; but they did not kick me out of the way or
+interfere with my repose.
+
+Presently as I sat trying to persuade myself to rise and pursue my way,
+two men came up to me in a sort of uniform. I recognized with another
+distinct sensation of pleasure that here were people who had authority,
+representatives of some kind of government. They came up to me and bade
+me come with them in tones which were peremptory enough; but what of
+that?--better the most peremptory supervision than the lawlessness from
+which I had come. They raised me from the ground with a touch, for I
+could not resist them, and led me quickly along the street into which
+that gateway gave access, which was a handsome street with tall houses
+on either side. Groups of people were moving about along the pavement,
+talking now and then with considerable animation; but when my companions
+were seen, there was an immediate moderation of tone, a sort of respect
+which looked like fear. There was no brawling nor tumult of any kind in
+the street. The only incident that occurred was this: when we had gone
+some way, I saw a lame man dragging himself along with difficulty on the
+other side of the street. My conductors had no sooner perceived him than
+they gave each other a look and darted across, conveying me with them,
+by a sweep of magnetic influence, I thought, that prevented me from
+staying behind. He made an attempt with his crutches to get out of the
+way, hurrying on--and I will allow that this attempt of his seemed to me
+very grotesque, so that I could scarcely help laughing; the other
+lookers-on in the street laughed too, though some put on an aspect of
+disgust. 'Look, the tortoise!' some one said; 'does he think he can go
+quicker than the orderlies?' My companions came up to the man while this
+commentary was going on, and seized him by each arm. 'Where were you
+going? Where have you come from? How dare you make an exhibition of
+yourself?' they cried. They took the crutches from him as they spoke and
+threw them away, and dragged him on until we reached a great grated door
+which one of them opened with a key, while the other held the offender
+(for he seemed an offender) roughly up by one shoulder, causing him
+great pain. When the door was opened, I saw a number of people within,
+who seemed to crowd to the door as if seeking to get out; but this was
+not at all what was intended. My second companion dragged the lame man
+forwards, and pushed him in with so much violence that I could see him
+fall forwards on his face on the floor. Then the other locked the door,
+and we proceeded on our way. It was not till some time later that I
+understood why.
+
+In the mean time I was hurried on, meeting a great many people who took
+no notice of me, to a central building in the middle of the town, where I
+was brought before an official attended by clerks, with great books
+spread out before him. Here I was questioned as to my name and my
+antecedents and the time of my arrival, then dismissed with a nod to one
+of my conductors. He led me back again down the street, took me into one
+of the tall great houses, opened the door of a room which was numbered,
+and left me there without a word. I cannot convey to any one the
+bewildered consternation with which I felt myself deposited here; and as
+the steps of my conductor died away in the long corridor, I sat down, and
+looking myself in the face, as it were, tried to make out what it was
+that had happened to me. The room was small and bare. There was but one
+thing hung upon the undecorated walls, and that was a long list of
+printed regulations which I had not the courage for the moment to look
+at. The light was indifferent, though the room was high up, and the
+street from the window looked far away below. I cannot tell how long I
+sat there thinking, and yet it could scarcely be called thought. I asked
+myself over and over again, Where am I? is it a prison? am I shut in, to
+leave this enclosure no more? what am I to do? how is the time to pass? I
+shut my eyes for a moment and tried to realize all that had happened to
+me; but nothing save a whirl through my head of disconnected thoughts
+seemed possible, and some force was upon me to open my eyes again, to
+see the blank room, the dull light, the vacancy round me in which there
+was nothing to interest the mind, nothing to please the eye,--a blank
+wherever I turned. Presently there came upon me a burning regret for
+everything I had left,--for the noisy town with all its tumults and
+cruelties, for the dark valley with all its dangers. Everything seemed
+bearable, almost agreeable, in comparison with this. I seemed to have
+been brought here to make acquaintance once more with myself, to learn
+over again what manner of man I was. Needless knowledge, acquaintance
+unnecessary, unhappy! for what was there in me to make me to myself a
+good companion? Never, I knew, could I separate myself from that eternal
+consciousness; but it was cruelty to force the contemplation upon me. All
+blank, blank around me, a prison! And was this to last forever?
+
+I do not know how long I sat, rapt in this gloomy vision; but at last it
+occurred to me to rise and try the door, which to my astonishment was
+open. I went out with a throb of new hope. After all, it might not be
+necessary to come back. There might be other expedients; I might fall
+among friends. I turned down the long echoing stairs, on which I met
+various people, who took no notice of me, and in whom I felt no interest
+save a desire to avoid them, and at last reached the street. To be out of
+doors in the air was something, though there was no wind, but a
+motionless still atmosphere which nothing disturbed. The streets, indeed,
+were full of movement, but not of life--though this seems a paradox. The
+passengers passed on their way in long regulated lines,--those who went
+towards the gates keeping rigorously to one side of the pavement, those
+who came, to the other. They talked to each other here and there; but
+whenever two men in uniform, such as those who had been my conductors,
+appeared, silence ensued, and the wayfarers shrank even from the looks of
+these persons in authority. I walked all about the spacious town.
+Everywhere there were tall houses, everywhere streams of people coming
+and going, but no one spoke to me, or remarked me at all. I was as lonely
+as if I had been in a wilderness. I was indeed in a wilderness of men,
+who were as though they did not see me, passing without even a look of
+human fellowship, each absorbed in his own concerns. I walked and walked
+till my limbs trembled under me, from one end to another of the great
+streets, up and down, and round and round. But no one said, How are you?
+Whence come you? What are you doing? At length in despair I turned again
+to the blank and miserable room, which had looked to me like a cell in a
+prison. I had wilfully made no note of its situation, trying to avoid
+rather than to find it, but my steps were drawn thither against my will.
+I found myself retracing my steps, mounting the long stairs, passing the
+same people, who streamed along with no recognition of me, as I desired
+nothing to do with them; and at last found myself within the same four
+blank walls as before.
+
+Soon after I returned I became conscious of measured steps passing the
+door, and of an eye upon me. I can say no more than this. From what point
+it was that I was inspected I cannot tell; but that I was inspected,
+closely scrutinized by some one, and that not only externally, but by a
+cold observation that went through and through me, I knew and felt beyond
+any possibility of mistake. This recurred from time to time, horribly, at
+uncertain moments, so that I never felt myself secure from it. I knew
+when the watcher was coming by tremors and shiverings through all my
+being; and no sensation so unsupportable has it ever been mine to bear.
+How much that is to say, no one can tell who has not gone through those
+regions of darkness, and learned what is in all their abysses. I tried at
+first to hide, to fling myself on the floor, to cover my face, to burrow
+in a dark corner. Useless attempts! The eyes that looked in upon me had
+powers beyond my powers. I felt sometimes conscious of the derisive smile
+with which my miserable subterfuges were regarded. They were all in vain.
+
+And what was still more strange was that I had not energy to think of
+attempting any escape. My steps, though watched, were not restrained in
+any way, so far as I was aware. The gates of the city stood open on all
+sides, free to those who went as well as to those who came; but I did not
+think of flight. Of flight! Whence should I go from myself? Though that
+horrible inspection was from the eyes of some unseen being, it was in
+some mysterious way connected with my own thinking and reflections, so
+that the thought came ever more and more strongly upon me, that from
+myself I could never escape. And that reflection took all energy, all
+impulse from me. I might have gone away when I pleased, beyond reach of
+the authority which regulated everything,--how one should walk, where
+one should live,--but never from my own consciousness. On the other side
+of the town lay a great plain, traversed by roads on every side. There
+was no reason why I should not continue my journey there; but I did not.
+I had no wish nor any power in me to go away.
+
+In one of my long, dreary, companionless walks, unshared by any human
+fellowship, I saw at last a face which I remembered; it was that of the
+cynical spectator who had spoken to me in the noisy street, in the
+midst of my early experiences. He gave a glance round him to see that
+there were no officials in sight, then left the file in which he was
+walking, and joined me. 'Ah!' he said, 'you are here already,' with the
+same derisive smile with which he had before regarded me. I hated the
+man and his sneer, yet that he should speak to me was something, almost
+a pleasure.
+
+'Yes,' said I, 'I am here.' Then, after a pause, in which I did not know
+what to say, 'It is quiet here,' I said.
+
+'Quiet enough. Do you like it better for that? To do whatever you please
+with no one to interfere; or to do nothing you please, but as you are
+forced to do it,--which do you think is best?'
+
+I felt myself instinctively glance round, as he had done, to make sure
+that no one was in sight. Then I answered, faltering, 'I have always held
+that law and order were necessary things; and the lawlessness of
+that--that place--I don't know its name--if there is such a place,' I
+cried, 'I thought it was a dream.'
+
+He laughed in his mocking way. 'Perhaps it is all a dream; who knows?' he
+said.
+
+'Sir,' said I, 'you have been longer here than I--'
+
+'Oh,' cried he, with a laugh that was dry and jarred upon the air almost
+like a shriek, 'since before your forefathers were born!' It seemed to me
+that he spoke like one who, out of bitterness and despite, made every
+darkness blacker still. A kind of madman in his way; for what was this
+claim of age?--a piece of bravado, no doubt, like the rest.
+
+'That is strange,' I said, assenting, as when there is such a
+hallucination it is best to do. 'You can tell me, then, whence all this
+authority comes, and why we are obliged to obey.'
+
+He looked at me as if he were thinking in his mind how to hurt me most.
+Then, with that dry laugh, 'We make trial of all things in this world,'
+he said, 'to see if perhaps we can find something we shall
+like.--discipline here, freedom in the other place. When you have gone
+all the round like me, then perhaps you will be able to choose.'
+
+'Have you chosen?' I asked.
+
+He only answered with a laugh. 'Come,' he said, 'there is amusement to be
+had too, and that of the most elevated kind. We make researches here into
+the moral nature of man. Will you come? But you must take the risk,' he
+added with a smile which afterwards I understood.
+
+We went on together after this till we reached the centre of the place,
+in which stood an immense building with a dome, which dominated the city,
+and into a great hall in the centre of that, where a crowd of people were
+assembled. The sound of human speech, which murmured all around, brought
+new life to my heart. And as I gazed at a curious apparatus erected on a
+platform, several people spoke to me.
+
+'We have again,' said one, 'the old subject to-day.'
+
+'Is it something about the constitution of the place?' I asked in the
+bewilderment of my mind. My neighbors looked at me with alarm, glancing
+behind them to see what officials might be near.
+
+'The constitution of the place is the result of the sense of the
+inhabitants that order must be preserved,' said the one, who had spoken
+to me first. 'The lawless can find refuge in other places. Here we have
+chosen to have supervision, nuisances removed, and order kept. That is
+enough. The constitution is not under discussion.'
+
+'But man is,' said a second speaker. 'Let us keep to that in which we can
+mend nothing. Sir, you may have to contribute your quota to our
+enlightenment. We are investigating the rise of thought. You are a
+stranger; you may be able to help us.'
+
+'I am no philosopher,' I said with a panic which I could not explain
+to myself.
+
+'That does not matter. You are a fresh subject.' The speaker made a
+slight movement with his hand, and I turned round to escape in wild,
+sudden fright, though I had no conception what could be done to me; but
+the crowd had pressed close round me, hemming one in on every side. I was
+so wildly alarmed that I struggled among them, pushing backwards with all
+my force, and clearing a space round me with my arms; but my efforts were
+vain. Two of the officers suddenly appeared out of the crowd, and
+seizing me by the arms, forced me forwards. The throng dispersed before
+them on either side, and I was half dragged, half lifted up upon the
+platform, where stood the strange apparatus which I had contemplated with
+a dull wonder when I came into the hall. My wonder did not last long. I
+felt myself fixed in it, standing supported in that position by bands and
+springs, so that no effort of mine was necessary to hold myself up, and
+none possible to release myself. I was caught by every joint, sustained,
+supported, exposed to the gaze of what seemed a world of upturned faces;
+among which I saw, with a sneer upon it, keeping a little behind the
+crowd, the face of the man who had led me here. Above my head was a
+strong light, more brilliant than anything I had ever seen, and which
+blazed upon my brain till the hair seemed to singe and the skin shrink. I
+hope I may never feel such a sensation again. The pitiless light went
+into me like a knife; but even my cries were stopped by the framework in
+which I was bound. I could breathe and suffer, but that was all.
+
+Then some one got up on the platform above me and began to speak. He
+said, so far as I could comprehend in the anguish and torture in which I
+was held, that the origin of thought was the question he was
+investigating, but that in every previous subject the confusion of ideas
+had bewildered them, and the rapidity with which one followed another.
+'The present example has been found to exhibit great persistency of
+idea,' he said. 'We hope that by his means some clearer theory may be
+arrived at.' Then he pulled over me a great movable lens as of a
+microscope, which concentrated the insupportable light. The wild,
+hopeless passion that raged within my soul had no outlet in the immovable
+apparatus that held me. I was let down among the crowd, and exhibited to
+them every secret movement of my being, by some awful process which I
+have never fathomed. A burning fire was in my brain; flame seemed to run
+along all my nerves; speechless, horrible, incommunicable fury raged in
+my soul. But I was like a child--nay, like an image of wood or wax--in
+the pitiless hands that held me. What was the cut of a surgeon's knife to
+this? And I had thought _that_ cruel! And I was powerless, and could do
+nothing--to blast, to destroy, to burn with this same horrible flame the
+fiends that surrounded me, as I desired to do.
+
+Suddenly, in the raging fever of my thoughts, there surged up the
+recollection of that word which had paralyzed all around, and myself
+with them. The thought that I must share the anguish did not restrain me
+from my revenge. With a tremendous effort I got my voice, though the
+instrument pressed upon my lips. I know not what I articulated save
+'God,' whether it was a curse or a blessing. I had been swung out into
+the middle of the hall, and hung amid the crowd, exposed to all their
+observations, when I succeeded in gaining utterance. My God! my God!
+Another moment and I had forgotten them and all my fury in the tortures
+that arose within myself. What, then, was the light that racked my brain?
+Once more my life from its beginning to its end rose up before me,--each
+scene like a spectre, like the harpies of the old fables rending me with
+tooth and claw. Once more I saw what might have been, the noble things I
+might have done, the happiness I had lost, the turnings of the fated road
+which I might have taken,--everything that was once so possible, so
+possible, so easy! but now possible no more. My anguish was immeasurable;
+I turned and wrenched myself, in the strength of pain, out of the
+machinery that held me, and fell down, down among all the curses that
+were being hurled at me,--among the horrible and miserable crowd. I had
+brought upon them the evil which I shared, and they fell upon me with a
+fury which was like that which had prompted myself a few minutes before;
+but they could do nothing to me so tremendous as the vengeance I had
+taken upon them. I was too miserable to feel the blows that rained upon
+me, but presently I suppose I lost consciousness altogether, being almost
+torn to pieces by the multitude.
+
+While this lasted, it seemed to me that I had a dream. I felt the blows
+raining down upon me, and my body struggling upon the ground; and yet
+it seemed to me that I was lying outside upon the ground, and above me
+the pale sky which never brightened at the touch of the sun. And I
+thought that dull, persistent cloud wavered and broke for an instant,
+and that I saw behind a glimpse of that blue which is heaven when we
+are on the earth--the blue sky--which is nowhere to be seen but in the
+mortal life; which is heaven enough, which is delight enough, for those
+who can look up to it, and feel themselves in the land of hope. It
+might be but a dream; in this strange world who could tell what was
+vision and what was true?
+
+The next thing I remember was that I found myself lying on the floor of
+a great room full of people with every kind of disease and deformity,
+some pale with sickness, some with fresh wounds, the lame, and the
+maimed, and the miserable. They lay round me in every attitude of pain,
+many with sores, some bleeding, with broken limbs, but all struggling,
+some on hands and knees, dragging themselves up from the ground to stare
+at me. They roused in my mind a loathing and sense of disgust which it is
+impossible to express. I could scarcely tolerate the thought that I--I!
+should be forced to remain a moment in this lazar-house. The feeling with
+which I had regarded the miserable creature who shared the corner of the
+wall with me, and who had cursed me for being sorry for him, had
+altogether gone out of my mind. I called out, to whom I know not,
+adjuring some one to open the door and set me free; but my cry was
+answered only by a shout from my companions in trouble. 'Who do you think
+will let you out?' 'Who is going to help you more than the rest?' My
+whole body was racked with pain; I could not move from the floor, on
+which I lay. I had to put up with the stares of the curious, and the
+mockeries and remarks on me of whoever chose to criticise. Among them
+was the lame man whom I had seen thrust in by the two officers who had
+taken me from the gate. He was the first to jibe. 'But for him they would
+never have seen me,' he said. 'I should have been well by this time in
+the fresh air.' 'It is his turn now,' said another. I turned my head as
+well as I could and spoke to them all.
+
+'I am a stranger here,' I cried. 'They have made my brain burn with their
+experiments. Will nobody help me? It is no fault of mine, it is their
+fault. If I am to be left here uncared for, I shall die.'
+
+At this a sort of dreadful chuckle ran round the place. 'If that is what
+you are afraid of, you will not die,' somebody said, touching me on my
+head in a way which gave me intolerable pain. 'Don't touch me,' I cried.
+'Why shouldn't I?' said the other, and pushed me again upon the throbbing
+brain. So far as my sensations went, there were no coverings at all,
+neither skull nor skin upon the intolerable throbbing of my head, which
+had been exposed to the curiosity of the crowd, and every touch was
+agony; but my cry brought no guardian, nor any defence or soothing. I
+dragged myself into a corner after a time, from which some other wretch
+had been rolled out in the course of a quarrel; and as I found that
+silence was the only policy, I kept silent, with rage consuming my heart.
+
+Presently I discovered by means of the new arrivals which kept coming in,
+hurled into the midst of us without thought or question, that this was
+the common fate of all who were repulsive to the sight, or who had any
+weakness or imperfection which offended the eyes of the population. They
+were tossed in among us, not to be healed, or for repose or safety, but
+to be out of sight, that they might not disgust or annoy those who were
+more fortunate, to whom no injury had happened; and because in their
+sickness and imperfection they were of no use in the studies of the
+place, and disturbed the good order of the streets. And there they lay
+one above another,--a mass of bruised and broken creatures, most of them
+suffering from injuries which they had sustained in what would have been
+called in other regions the service of the State. They had served like
+myself as objects of experiments. They had fallen from heights where they
+had been placed in illustration of some theory. They had been tortured or
+twisted to give satisfaction to some question. And then, that the
+consequences of these proceedings might offend no one's eyes, they were
+flung into this receptacle, to be released if chance or strength enabled
+them to push their way out when others were brought in, or when their
+importunate knocking wearied some watchman, and brought him angry and
+threatening to hear what was wanted. The sound of this knocking against
+the door, and of the cries that accompanied it, and the rush towards the
+opening when any one was brought in, caused a hideous continuous noise
+and scuffle which was agony to my brain. Every one pushed before the
+other; there was an endless rising and falling as in the changes of a
+feverish dream, each man as he got strength to struggle forwards himself,
+thrusting back his neighbors, and those who were nearest to the door
+beating upon it without cease, like the beating of a drum without cadence
+or measure, sometimes a dozen passionate hands together, making a
+horrible din and riot. As I lay unable to join in that struggle, and
+moved by rage unspeakable towards all who could, I reflected strangely
+that I had never heard when outside this horrible continual appeal of the
+suffering. In the streets of the city, as I now reflected, quiet reigned.
+I had even made comparisons on my first entrance, in the moment of
+pleasant anticipation which came over me, of the happy stillness here
+with the horror and tumult of that place of unrule which I had left.
+
+When my thoughts reached this point I was answered by the voice of some
+one on a level with myself, lying helpless like me on the floor of the
+lazar-house. 'They have taken their precautions,' he said; 'if they will
+not endure the sight of suffering, how should they hear the sound of it?
+Every cry is silenced there.'
+
+'I wish they could be silenced within too,' I cried savagely; 'I would
+make them dumb had I the power.'
+
+'The spirit of the place is in you,' said the other voice.
+
+'And not in you?' I said, raising my head, though every movement was
+agony; but this pretence of superiority was more than I could bear.
+
+The other made no answer for a moment; then he said faintly, 'If it is
+so, it is but for greater misery.'
+
+And then his voice died away, and the hubbub of beating and crying and
+cursing and groaning filled all the echoes. They cried, but no one
+listened to them. They thundered on the door, but in vain. They
+aggravated all their pangs in that mad struggle to get free. After a
+while my companion, whoever he was, spoke again.
+
+'They would rather,' he said, 'lie on the roadside to be kicked and
+trodden on, as we have seen; though to see that made you miserable.'
+
+'Made me miserable! You mock me,' I said. 'Why should a man be miserable
+save for suffering of his own?'
+
+'You thought otherwise once,' my neighbor said.
+
+And then I remembered the wretch in the corner of the wall in the
+other town, who had cursed me for pitying him. I cursed myself now for
+that folly. Pity him! was he not better off than I? 'I wish,' I cried,
+'that I could crush them into nothing, and be rid of this infernal
+noise they make!'
+
+'The spirit of the place has entered into you,' said that voice.
+
+I raised my arm to strike him; but my hand fell on the stone floor
+instead, and sent a jar of new pain all through my battered frame. And
+then I mastered my rage and lay still, for I knew there was no way but
+this of recovering my strength,--the strength with which, when I got it
+back, I would annihilate that reproachful voice and crush the life out of
+those groaning fools, whose cries and impotent struggles I could not
+endure. And we lay a long time without moving, with always that tumult
+raging in our ears. At last there came into my mind a longing to hear
+spoken words again. I said, 'Are you still there?'
+
+'I shall be here,' he said, 'till I am able to begin again.'
+
+'To begin! Is there here, then, either beginning or ending? Go on; speak
+to me; it makes me a little forget my pain.'
+
+'I have a fire in my heart,' he said; 'I must begin and begin--till
+perhaps I find the way.'
+
+'What way?' I cried, feverish and eager; for though I despised him, yet
+it made me wonder to think that he should speak riddles which I could not
+understand.
+
+He answered very faintly, 'I do not know.' The fool! then it was only
+folly, as from the first I knew it was. I felt then that I could treat
+him roughly, after the fashion of the place--which he said had got into
+me. 'Poor wretch!' I said, 'you have hopes, have you? Where have you come
+from? You might have learned better before now.'
+
+'I have come,' he said, 'from where we met before. I have come by the
+valley of gold. I have worked in the mines. I have served in the troops
+of those who are masters there. I have lived in this town of tyrants, and
+lain in this lazar-house before. Everything has happened to me, more and
+worse than you dream of.'
+
+'And still you go on? I would dash my head against the wall and die.'
+
+'When will you learn,' he said with a strange tone in his voice, which,
+though no one had been listening to us, made a sudden silence for a
+moment, it was so strange; it moved me like that glimmer of the blue
+sky in my dream, and roused all the sufferers round with an
+expectation--though I know not what. The cries stopped; the hands beat no
+longer. I think all the miserable crowd were still, and turned to where
+he lay. 'When will you learn--that you have died, and can die no more?'
+
+There was a shout of fury all around me. 'Is that all you have to say?'
+the crowd burst forth; and I think they rushed upon him and killed him,
+for I heard no more until the hubbub began again more wild than ever,
+with furious hands beating, beating against the locked door.
+
+After a while I began to feel my strength come back. I raised my head. I
+sat up. I began to see the faces of those around me, and the groups
+into which they gathered; the noise was no longer so insupportable,--my
+racked nerves were regaining health. It was with a mixture of pleasure
+and despair that I became conscious of this. I had been through many
+deaths; but I did not die, perhaps could not, as that man had said. I
+looked about for him, to see if he had contradicted his own theory. But
+he was not dead. He was lying close to me, covered with wounds; but he
+opened his eyes, and something like a smile came upon his lips. A
+smile,--I had heard laughter, and seen ridicule and derision, but this I
+had not seen. I could not bear it. To seize him and shake the little
+remaining life out of him was my impulse; but neither did I obey that.
+Again he reminded me of my dream--was it a dream?--of the opening in the
+clouds. From that moment I tried to shelter him, and as I grew stronger
+and stronger and pushed my way to the door, I dragged him along with me.
+How long the struggle was I cannot tell, or how often I was balked, or
+how many darted through before me when the door was opened. But I
+did not let him go; and at last, for now I was as strong as
+before,--stronger than most about me,--I got out into the air and
+brought him with me. Into the air! it was an atmosphere so still and
+motionless that there was no feeling of life in it, as I have said; but
+the change seemed to me happiness for the moment. It was freedom. The
+noise of the struggle was over; the horrible sights were left behind. My
+spirit sprang up as if I had been born into new life. It had the same
+effect, I suppose, upon my companion, though he was much weaker than I,
+for he rose to his feet at once with almost a leap of eagerness, and
+turned instantaneously towards the other side of the city.
+
+'Not that way,' I said; 'come with me and rest.'
+
+'No rest--no rest--my rest is to go on;' and then he turned towards me
+and smiled and said, 'Thanks'--looking into my face. What a word to hear!
+I had not heard it since--A rush of strange and sweet and dreadful
+thoughts came into my mind. I shrank and trembled, and let go his arm,
+which I had been holding; but when I left that hold I seemed to fall back
+into depths of blank pain and longing. I put out my hand again and caught
+him. 'I will go,' I said, 'where you go.'
+
+A pair of the officials of the place passed as I spoke. They looked at
+me with a threatening glance, and half paused, but then passed on. It
+was I now who hurried my companion along. I recollected him now. He
+was a man who had met me in the streets of the other city when I was
+still ignorant, who had convulsed me with the utterance of that name
+which, in all this world where we were, is never named but for
+punishment,--the name which I had named once more in the great hall in
+the midst of my torture, so that all who heard me were transfixed with
+that suffering too. He had been haggard then, but he was more haggard
+now. His features were sharp with continual pain; his eyes were wild
+with weakness and trouble, though there was a meaning in them which
+went to my heart. It seemed to me that in his touch there was a certain
+help, though he was weak and tottered, and every moment seemed full of
+suffering. Hope sprang up in my mind,--the hope that where he was so
+eager to go there would be something better, a life more livable than
+in this place. In every new place there is new hope. I was not worn out
+of that human impulse. I forgot the nightmare which had crushed me
+before,--the horrible sense that from myself there was no escape,--and
+holding fast to his arm, I hurried on with him, not heeding where. We
+went aside into less frequented streets, that we might escape
+observation. I seemed to myself the guide, though I was the follower.
+A great faith in this man sprang up in my breast. I was ready to go
+with him wherever he went, anywhere--anywhere must be better than this.
+Thus I pushed him on, holding by his arm, till we reached the very
+outmost limits of the city. Here he stood still for a moment, turning
+upon me, and took me by the hands.
+
+'Friend,' he said, 'before you were born into the pleasant earth I had
+come here. I have gone all the weary round. Listen to one who knows: all
+is harder, harder, as you go on. You are stirred to go on by the
+restlessness in your heart, and each new place you come to, the spirit of
+that place enters into you. You are better here than you will be farther
+on. You were better where you were at first, or even in the mines, than
+here. Come no farther. Stay; unless--' but here his voice gave way. He
+looked at me with anxiety in his eyes, and said no more.
+
+'Then why,' I cried, 'do you go on? Why do you not stay?'
+
+He shook his head, and his eyes grew more and more soft. 'I am going,' he
+said, and his voice shook again. 'I am going--to try--the most awful and
+the most dangerous journey--' His voice died away altogether, and he only
+looked at me to say the rest.
+
+'A journey? Where?'
+
+I can tell no man what his eyes said. I understood, I cannot tell how;
+and with trembling all my limbs seemed to drop out of joint and my face
+grow moist with terror. I could not speak any more than he, but with my
+lips shaped, How? The awful thought made a tremor in the very air around.
+He shook his head slowly as he looked at me, his eyes, all circled with
+deep lines, looking out of caves of anguish and anxiety; and then I
+remembered how he had said, and I had scoffed at him, that the way he
+sought was one he did not know. I had dropped his hands in my fear; and
+yet to leave him seemed dragging the heart out of my breast, for none but
+he had spoken to me like a brother, had taken my hand and thanked me. I
+looked out across the plain, and the roads seemed tranquil and still.
+There was a coolness in the air. It looked like evening, as if somewhere
+in those far distances there might be a place where a weary soul might
+rest; and I looked behind me, and thought what I had suffered, and
+remembered the lazar-house and the voices that cried and the hands that
+beat against the door, and also the horrible quiet of the room in which I
+lived, and the eyes which looked in at me and turned my gaze upon myself.
+Then I rushed after him, for he had turned to go on upon his way, and
+caught at his clothes, crying, 'Behold me, behold me! I will go too!'
+
+He reached me his hand and went on without a word; and I with terror
+crept after him, treading in his steps, following like his shadow. What
+it was to walk with another, and follow, and be at one, is more than I
+can tell; but likewise my heart failed me for fear, for dread of what we
+might encounter, and of hearing that name or entering that presence which
+was more terrible than all torture. I wondered how it could be that one
+should willingly face _that_ which racked the soul, and how he had
+learned that it was possible, and where he had heard of the way. And as
+we went on I said no word, for he began to seem to me a being of another
+kind, a figure full of awe; and I followed as one might follow a ghost.
+Where would he go? Were we not fixed here forever, where our lot had been
+cast? And there were still many other great cities where there might be
+much to see, and something to distract the mind, and where it might be
+more possible to live than it had proved in the other places. There might
+be no tyrants there, nor cruelty, nor horrible noises, nor dreadful
+silence. Towards the right hand, across the plain, there seemed to rise
+out of the gray distance a cluster of towers and roofs like another
+habitable place; and who could tell that something better might not be
+there? Surely everything could not turn to torture and misery. I dragged
+on behind him, with all these thoughts hurrying through my mind. He was
+going--I dare to say it now, though I did not dare then--to seek out a
+way to God; to try, if it was possible, to find the road that led
+back,--that road which had been open once to all. But for me, I trembled
+at the thought of that road. I feared the name, which was as the plunging
+of a sword into my inmost parts. All things could be borne but that. I
+dared not even think upon that name. To feel my hand in another man's
+hand was much, but to be led into that awful presence, by awful ways,
+which none knew--how could I bear it? My spirits failed me, and my
+strength. My hand became loose in his hand; he grasped me still, but my
+hold failed, and ever with slower and slower steps I followed, while he
+seemed to acquire strength with every winding of the way. At length he
+said to me, looking back upon me, 'I cannot stop; but your heart falls
+you. Shall I loose my hand and let you go?'
+
+'I am afraid; I am afraid!' I cried.
+
+'And I too am afraid; but it is better to suffer more and to escape than
+to suffer less and to remain.'
+
+'Has it ever been known that one escaped? No one has ever escaped. This
+is our place,' I said; 'there is no other world.'
+
+'There are other worlds; there is a world where every way leads to One
+who loves us still.'
+
+I cried out with a great cry of misery and scorn. 'There is no
+love!' I said.
+
+He stood still for a moment and turned and looked at me. His eyes seemed
+to melt my soul. A great cloud passed over them, as in the pleasant earth
+a cloud will sweep across the moon; and then the light came out and
+looked at me again, for neither did he know. Where he was going all might
+end in despair and double and double pain. But if it were possible that
+at the end there should be found that for which he longed, upon which his
+heart was set! He said with a faltering voice, 'Among all whom I have
+questioned and seen, there was but one who found the way. But if one has
+found it, so may I. If you will not come, yet let me go.'
+
+'They will tear you limb from limb; they will burn you in the endless
+fires,' I said. But what is it to be torn limb from limb, or burned with
+fire? There came upon his face a smile, and in my heart even I laughed to
+scorn what I had said.
+
+'If I were dragged every nerve apart, and every thought turned into a
+fiery dart,--and that is so,' he said,--'yet will I go, if but perhaps I
+may see Love at the end.'
+
+'There is no love!' I cried again with a sharp and bitter cry; and the
+echo seemed to come back and back from every side, No love! no love! till
+the man who was my friend faltered and stumbled like a drunken man; but
+afterwards he recovered strength and resumed his way.
+
+And thus once more we went on. On the right hand was that city, growing
+ever clearer, with noble towers rising up to the sky, and battlements and
+lofty roofs, and behind a yellow clearness, as of a golden sunset. My
+heart drew me there; it sprang up in my breast and sang in my ears, Come,
+and come. Myself invited me to this new place as to a home. The others
+were wretched, but this will be happy,--delights and pleasures will be
+there. And before us the way grew dark with storms, and there grew
+visible among the mists a black line of mountains, perpendicular cliffs,
+and awful precipices, which seemed to bar the way. I turned from that
+line of gloomy heights, and gazed along the path to where the towers
+stood up against the sky. And presently my hand dropped by my side, that
+had been held in my companion's hand; and I saw him no more.
+
+I went on to the city of the evening light. Ever and ever, as I proceeded
+on my way, the sense of haste and restless impatience grew upon me, so
+that I felt myself incapable of remaining long in a place, and my desire
+grew stronger to hasten on and on; but when I entered the gates of the
+city this longing vanished from my mind. There seemed some great festival
+or public holiday going on there. The streets were full of
+pleasure-parties, and in every open place (of which there were many) were
+bands of dancers, and music playing; and the houses about were hung with
+tapestries and embroideries and garlands of flowers. A load seemed to be
+taken from my spirit when I saw all this,--for a whole population does
+not rejoice in such a way without some cause. And to think that after
+all I had found a place in which I might live and forget the misery and
+pain which I had known, and all that was behind me, was delightful to my
+soul. It seemed to me that all the dancers were beautiful and young,
+their steps went gayly to the music, their faces were bright with smiles.
+Here and there was a master of the feast, who arranged the dances and
+guided the musicians, yet seemed to have a look and smile for new-comers
+too. One of these came forwards to meet me, and received me with a
+welcome, and showed me a vacant place at the table, on which were
+beautiful fruits piled up in baskets, and all the provisions for a meal.
+'You were expected, you perceive,' he said. A delightful sense of
+well-being came into my mind. I sat down in the sweetness of ease after
+fatigue, of refreshment after weariness, of pleasant sounds and sights
+after the arid way. I said to myself that my past experiences had been a
+mistake, that this was where I ought to have come from the first, that
+life here would be happy, and that all intruding thoughts must soon
+vanish and die away.
+
+After I had rested, I strolled about, and entered fully into the
+pleasures of the place. Wherever I went, through all the city, there was
+nothing but brightness and pleasure, music playing, and flags waving, and
+flowers and dancers and everything that was most gay. I asked several
+people whom I met what was the cause of the rejoicing; but either they
+were too much occupied with their own pleasures, or my question was lost
+in the hum of merriment, the sound of the instruments and of the dancers'
+feet. When I had seen as much as I desired of the pleasure out of doors,
+I was taken by some to see the interiors of houses, which were all
+decorated for this festival, whatever it was, lighted up with curious
+varieties of lighting, in tints of different colors. The doors and
+windows were all open; and whosoever would could come in from the dance
+or from the laden tables, and sit down where they pleased and rest,
+always with a pleasant view out upon the streets, so that they should
+lose nothing of the spectacle. And the dresses, both of women and men,
+were beautiful in form and color, made in the finest fabrics, and
+affording delightful combinations to the eye. The pleasure which I took
+in all I saw and heard was enhanced by the surprise of it, and by the
+aspect of the places from which I had come, where there was no regard to
+beauty nor anything lovely or bright. Before my arrival here I had come
+in my thoughts to the conclusion that life had no brightness in these
+regions, and that whatever occupation or study there might be, pleasure
+had ended and was over, and everything that had been sweet in the former
+life. I changed that opinion with a sense of relief, which was more warm
+even than the pleasure of the present moment; for having made one such
+mistake, how could I tell that there were not more discoveries awaiting
+me, that life might not prove more endurable, might not rise to something
+grander and more powerful? The old prejudices, the old foregone
+conclusion of earth that this was a world of punishment, had warped my
+vision and my thoughts. With so many added faculties of being, incapable
+of fatigue as we were, incapable of death, recovering from every wound or
+accident as I had myself done, and with no foolish restraint as to what
+we should or should not do, why might not we rise in this land to
+strength unexampled, to the highest powers? I rejoiced that I had dropped
+my companion's hand, that I had not followed him in his mad quest.
+Sometime, I said to myself, I would make a pilgrimage to the foot of
+those gloomy mountains, and bring him back, all racked and tortured as
+he was, and show him the pleasant place which he had missed.
+
+In the mean time the music and the dance went on. But it began to
+surprise me a little that there was no pause, that the festival continued
+without intermission. I went up to one of those who seemed the masters of
+ceremony, directing what was going on. He was an old man, with a flowing
+robe of brocade, and a chain and badge which denoted his office. He stood
+with a smile upon his lips, beating time with his hand to the music,
+watching the figure of the dance.
+
+'I can get no one to tell me,' I said, 'what the occasion of all this
+rejoicing is.'
+
+'It is for your coming,' he replied without hesitation, with a smile
+and a bow.
+
+For the moment a wonderful elation came over me. 'For my coming!' But
+then I paused and shook my head. 'There are others coming besides me.
+See! they arrive every moment.'
+
+'It is for their coming too,' he said with another smile and a still
+deeper bow; 'but you are the first as you are the chief.'
+
+This was what I could not understand; but it was pleasant to hear, and I
+made no further objection. 'And how long will it go on?' I said.
+
+'So long as it pleases you,' said the old courtier.
+
+How he smiled! His smile did not please me. He saw this, and distracted
+my attention. 'Look at this dance,' he said; 'how beautiful are those
+round young limbs! Look how the dress conceals yet shows the form and
+beautiful movements! It was invented in your honor. All that is lovely
+is for you. Choose where you will, all is yours. We live only for this;
+all is for you.' While he spoke, the dancers came nearer and nearer till
+they circled us round, and danced and made their pretty obeisances, and
+sang, 'All is yours; all is for you;' then breaking their lines, floated
+away in other circles and processions and endless groups, singing and
+laughing till it seemed to ring from every side, 'Everything is yours;
+all is for you.'
+
+I accepted this flattery I know not why, for I soon became aware that I
+was no more than others, and that the same words were said to every
+new-comer. Yet my heart was elated, and I threw myself into all that was
+set before me. But there was always in my mind an expectation that
+presently the music and the dancing would cease, and the tables be
+withdrawn, and a pause come. At one of the feasts I was placed by the
+side of a lady very fair and richly dressed, but with a look of great
+weariness in her eyes. She turned her beautiful face to me, not with any
+show of pleasure, and there was something like compassion in her look.
+She said, 'You are very tired,' as she made room for me by her side.
+
+'Yes,' I said, though with surprise, for I had not yet acknowledged
+that even to myself. 'There is so much to enjoy. We have need of a
+little rest.'
+
+'Of rest!' said she, shaking her head, 'this is not the place for rest.'
+
+'Yet pleasure requires it,' I said, 'as much as--' I was about to say
+pain; but why should one speak of pain in a place given up to
+pleasure? She smiled faintly and shook her head again. All her
+movements were languid and faint; her eyelids drooped over her eyes.
+Yet when I turned to her, she made an effort to smile. 'I think you
+are also tired,' I said.
+
+At this she roused herself a little. 'We must not say so; nor do I say
+so. Pleasure is very exacting. It demands more of you than anything else.
+One must be always ready--'
+
+'For what?'
+
+'To give enjoyment and to receive it.' There was an effort in her voice
+to rise to this sentiment, but it fell back into weariness again.
+
+'I hope you receive as well as give,' I said.
+
+The lady turned her eyes to me with a look which I cannot forget, and
+life seemed once more to be roused within her, but not the life of
+pleasure; her eyes were full of loathing and fatigue and disgust and
+despair. 'Are you so new to this place,' she said, 'and have not learned
+even yet what is the height of all misery and all weariness; what is
+worse than pain and trouble, more dreadful than the lawless streets and
+the burning mines, and the torture of the great hall and the misery of
+the lazar-house--'
+
+'Oh, lady,' I said, 'have you been there?'
+
+She answered me with her eyes alone; there was no need of more. 'But
+pleasure is more terrible than all,' she said; and I knew in my heart
+that what she said was true.
+
+There is no record of time in that place. I could not count it by days or
+nights; but soon after this it happened to me that the dances and the
+music became no more than a dizzy maze of sound and sight which made my
+brain whirl round and round, and I too loathed what was spread on the
+table, and the soft couches, and the garlands, and the fluttering flags
+and ornaments. To sit forever at a feast, to see forever the merrymakers
+turn round and round, to hear in your ears forever the whirl of the
+music, the laughter, the cries of pleasure! There were some who went on
+and on, and never seemed to tire; but to me the endless round came at
+last to be a torture from which I could not escape. Finally, I could
+distinguish nothing,--neither what I heard nor what I saw; and only a
+consciousness of something intolerable buzzed and echoed in my brain. I
+longed for the quiet of the place I had left; I longed for the noise in
+the streets, and the hubbub and tumult of my first experiences. Anything,
+anything rather than this! I said to myself; and still the dancers
+turned, the music sounded, the bystanders smiled, and everything went on
+and on. My eyes grew weary with seeing, and my ears with hearing. To
+watch the new-comers rush in, all pleased and eager, to see the eyes of
+the others glaze with weariness, wrought upon my strained nerves. I could
+not think, I could not rest, I could not endure. Music forever and
+ever,--a whirl, a rush of music, always going on and on; and ever that
+maze of movement, till the eyes were feverish and the mouth parched;
+ever that mist of faces, now one gleaming out of the chaos, now another,
+some like the faces of angels, some miserable, weary, strained with
+smiling, with the monotony, and the endless, aimless, never-changing
+round. I heard myself calling to them to be still--to be still! to pause
+a moment. I felt myself stumble and turn round in the giddiness and
+horror of that movement without repose. And finally, I fell under the
+feet of the crowd, and felt the whirl go over and over me, and beat upon
+my brain, until I was pushed and thrust out of the way lest I should
+stop the measure. There I lay, sick, satiate, for I know not how
+long,--loathing everything around me, ready to give all I had (but what
+had I to give?) for one moment of silence. But always the music went on,
+and the dancers danced, and the people feasted, and the songs and the
+voices echoed up to the skies.
+
+How at last I stumbled forth I cannot tell. Desperation must have moved
+me, and that impatience which after every hope and disappointment comes
+back and back,--the one sensation that never fails. I dragged myself at
+last by intervals, like a sick dog, outside the revels, still hearing
+them, which was torture to me, even when at last I got beyond the crowd.
+It was something to lie still upon the ground, though without power to
+move, and sick beyond all thought, loathing myself and all that I had
+been and seen. For I had not even the sense that I had been wronged to
+keep me up, but only a nausea and horror of movement, a giddiness and
+whirl of every sense. I lay like a log upon the ground.
+
+When I recovered my faculties a little, it was to find myself once more
+in the great vacant plain which surrounded that accursed home of
+pleasure,--a great and desolate waste upon which I could see no track,
+which my heart fainted to look at, which no longer roused any hope in me,
+as if it might lead to another beginning, or any place in which yet at
+the last it might be possible to live. As I lay in that horrible
+giddiness and faintness, I loathed life and this continuance which
+brought me through one misery after another, and forbade me to die. Oh
+that death would come,--death, which is silent and still, which makes no
+movement and hears no sound! that I might end and be no more! Oh that I
+could go back even to the stillness of that chamber which I had not been
+able to endure! Oh that I could return,--return! to what? To other
+miseries and other pain, which looked less because they were past. But I
+knew now that return was impossible until I had circled all the dreadful
+round; and already I felt again the burning of that desire that pricked
+and drove me on,--not back, for that was impossible. Little by little I
+had learned to understand, each step printed upon my brain as with
+red-hot irons: not back, but on, and on--to greater anguish, yes; but on,
+to fuller despair, to experiences more terrible,--but on, and on, and on.
+I arose again, for this was my fate. I could not pause even for all the
+teachings of despair.
+
+The waste stretched far as eyes could see. It was wild and terrible, with
+neither vegetation nor sign of life. Here and there were heaps of ruin,
+which had been villages and cities; but nothing was in them save reptiles
+and crawling poisonous life and traps for the unwary wanderer. How often
+I stumbled and fell among these ashes and dust-heaps of the past! Through
+what dread moments I lay, with cold and slimy things leaving their trace
+upon my flesh! The horrors which seized me, so that I beat my head
+against a stone,--why should I tell? These were nought; they touched not
+the soul. They were but accidents of the way.
+
+At length, when body and soul were low and worn out with misery and
+weariness, I came to another place, where all was so different from the
+last that the sight gave me a momentary solace. It was full of furnaces
+and clanking machinery and endless work. The whole air round was aglow
+with the fury of the fires; and men went and came like demons in the
+flames, with red-hot melting metal, pouring it into moulds and beating
+it on anvils. In the huge workshops in the background there was a
+perpetual whir of machinery, of wheels turning and turning, and pistons
+beating, and all the din of labor, which for a time renewed the anguish
+of my brain, yet also soothed it,--for there was meaning in the beatings
+and the whirlings. And a hope rose within me that with all the forces
+that were here, some revolution might be possible,--something that would
+change the features of this place and overturn the worlds. I went from
+workshop to workshop, and examined all that was being done, and
+understood,--for I had known a little upon the earth, and my old
+knowledge came back, and to learn so much more filled me with new life.
+The master of all was one who never rested, nor seemed to feel
+weariness nor pain nor pleasure. He had everything in his hand. All who
+were there were his workmen or his assistants or his servants. No one
+shared with him in his councils. He was more than a prince among them;
+he was as a god. And the things he planned and made, and at which in
+armies and legions his workmen toiled and labored, were like living
+things. They were made of steel and iron, but they moved like the brains
+and nerves of men. They went where he directed them, and did what he
+commanded, and moved at a touch. And though he talked little, when he
+saw how I followed all that he did, he was a little moved towards me,
+and spoke and explained to me the conceptions that were in his mind, one
+rising out of another, like the leaf out of the stem and the flower out
+of the bud. For nothing pleased him that he did, and necessity was upon
+him to go on and on.
+
+'They are like living things,' I said; 'they do your bidding, whatever
+you command them. They are like another and a stronger race of men.'
+
+'Men!' he said, 'what are men? The most contemptible of all things that
+are made,--creatures who will undo in a moment what it has taken
+millions of years, and all the skill and all the strength of generations
+to do. These are better than men. They cannot think or feel. They cannot
+stop but at my bidding, or begin unless I will. Had men been made so, we
+should be masters of the world.'
+
+'Had men been made so, you would never have been,--for what could genius
+have done or thought?--you would have been a machine like all the rest.'
+
+'And better so!' he said, and turned away; for at that moment, watching
+keenly as he spoke the action of a delicate combination of movements, all
+made and balanced to a hair's breadth, there had come to him suddenly the
+idea of something which made it a hundredfold more strong and terrible.
+For they were terrible, these things that lived yet did not live, which
+were his slaves and moved at his will. When he had done this, he looked
+at me, and a smile came upon his mouth; but his eyes smiled not, nor ever
+changed from the set look they wore. And the words he spoke were familiar
+words, not his, but out of the old life. 'What a piece of work is a man!'
+he said; 'how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! in form and
+moving how express and admirable! And yet to me what is this
+quintessence of dust?' His mind had followed another strain of thought,
+which to me was bewildering, so that I did not know how to reply. I
+answered like a child, upon his last word.
+
+'We are dust no more,' I cried, for pride was in my heart,--pride of him
+and his wonderful strength, and his thoughts which created strength, and
+all the marvels he did; 'those things which hindered are removed. Go on;
+go on! you want but another step. What is to prevent that you should not
+shake the universe, and overturn this doom, and break all our bonds?
+There is enough here to explode this gray fiction of a firmament, and to
+rend those precipices, and to dissolve that waste,--as at the time when
+the primeval seas dried up, and those infernal mountains rose.'
+
+He laughed, and the echoes caught the sound and gave it back as if
+they mocked it. 'There is enough to rend us all into shreds,' he said,
+'and shake, as you say, both heaven and earth, and these plains and
+those hills.'
+
+'Then why,' I cried in my haste, with a dreadful hope piercing through my
+soul--'why do you create and perfect, but never employ? When we had
+armies on the earth, we used them. You have more than armies; you have
+force beyond the thoughts of man, but all without use as yet.'
+
+'All,' he cried, 'for no use! All in vain!--in vain!'
+
+'O master!' I said, 'great and more great in time to come, why?--why?'
+
+He took me by the arm and drew me close.
+
+'Have you strength,' he said, 'to bear it if I tell you why?'
+
+I knew what he was about to say. I felt it in the quivering of my veins,
+and my heart that bounded as if it would escape from my breast; but I
+would not quail from what he did not shrink to utter. I could speak no
+word, but I looked him in the face and waited--for that which was more
+terrible than all.
+
+He held me by the arm, as if he would hold me up when the shock of
+anguish came. 'They are in vain,' he said, 'in vain--because God rules
+over all.'
+
+His arm was strong; but I fell at his feet like a dead man.
+
+How miserable is that image, and how unfit to use! Death is still and
+cool and sweet. There is nothing in it that pierces like a sword, that
+burns like fire, that rends and tears like the turning wheels. O life, O
+pain, O terrible name of God in which is all succor and all torment!
+What are pangs and tortures to that, which ever increases in its awful
+power, and has no limit nor any alleviation, but whenever it is spoken
+penetrates through and through the miserable soul? O God, whom once I
+called my Father! O Thou who gavest me being, against whom I have fought,
+whom I fight to the end, shall there never be anything but anguish in the
+sound of Thy great name?
+
+When I returned to such command of myself as one can have who has been
+transfixed by that sword of fire, the master stood by me still. He had
+not fallen like me, but his face was drawn with anguish and sorrow like
+the face of my friend who had been with me in the lazar-house, who had
+disappeared on the dark mountains. And as I looked at him, terror seized
+hold upon me, and a desire to flee and save myself, that I might not be
+drawn after him by the longing that was in his eyes.
+
+The master gave me his hand to help me to rise, and it trembled, but not
+like mine.
+
+'Sir,' I cried, 'have not we enough to bear? Is it for hatred, is it for
+vengeance, that you speak that name?'
+
+'O friend,' he said, 'neither for hatred nor revenge. It is like a fire
+in my veins; if one could find Him again!'
+
+'You, who are as a god, who can make and destroy,--you, who could shake
+His throne!'
+
+He put up his hand. 'I who am His creature, even here--and still His
+child, though I am so far, so far--' He caught my hand in his, and
+pointed with the other trembling. 'Look! your eyes are more clear
+than mine, for they are not anxious like mine. Can you see anything
+upon the way?'
+
+The waste lay wild before us, dark with a faintly-rising cloud, for
+darkness and cloud and the gloom of death attended upon that name. I
+thought, in his great genius and splendor of intellect, he had gone mad,
+as sometimes may be. 'There is nothing,' I said, and scorn came into my
+soul; but even as I spoke I saw--I cannot tell what I saw--a moving spot
+of milky whiteness in that dark and miserable wilderness, no bigger than
+a man's hand, no bigger than a flower. 'There is something,' I said
+unwillingly; 'it has no shape nor form. It is a gossamer-web upon some
+bush, or a butterfly blown on the wind.'
+
+'There are neither butterflies nor gossamers here.'
+
+'Look for yourself, then!' I cried, flinging his hand from me. I was
+angry with a rage which had no cause. I turned from him, though I loved
+him, with a desire to kill him in my heart, and hurriedly took the other
+way. The waste was wild; but rather that than to see the man who might
+have shaken earth and hell thus turning, turning to madness and the awful
+journey. For I knew what in his heart he thought; and I knew that it was
+so. It was something from that other sphere; can I tell you what? A child
+perhaps--O thought that wrings the heart!--for do you know what manner of
+thing a child is? There are none in the land of darkness. I turned my
+back upon the place where that whiteness was. On, on, across the waste!
+On to the cities of the night! On, far away from maddening thought, from
+hope that is torment, and from the awful Name!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The above narrative, though it is necessary to a full understanding of
+the experiences of the Little Pilgrim in the Unseen, does not belong to
+her personal story in any way, but is drawn from the Archives in the
+Heavenly City, where all the records of the human race are laid up.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Pilgrim: Further
+Experiences., by Margaret O. (Wilson) Oliphant
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