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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10051-0.txt b/10051-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ba50bc --- /dev/null +++ b/10051-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3659 @@ +*** 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 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce7828b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10051 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10051) diff --git a/old/10051.txt b/old/10051.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca931d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10051.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4081 @@ +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. 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