The next excursion of any importance which I made was in the company of
Principal Grey, who proved a splendid cicerone, inasmuch as she spared
no pains to explain everything which presented itself to me in a
puzzling aspect. I had often visited different European countries, and
had been greatly interested by many things I saw. But in New Amazonia
the constant predominating feeling was _amazement_, not mere interest.
Fancy going through a city, anywhere in Europe, in our own days, without
seeing either a beggar or a poverty stricken individual of any sort.
Dirt, squalor, drunkenness, profane language, sickness, rags, and a
thousand other miseries, meet us at every turn in the poorer quarters of
our big cities. But not one of these things did I note in New Amazonia.
Purity, peace, health, harmony, and comfort reigned in their stead, and
presented a picture such as I had never hoped to gaze upon in this
world.
But what ultimately struck me as the strangest thing I had yet observed,
was the fact that I had not seen a single old woman or man since I came
here, and I determined to appease my curiosity on the subject as soon as
possible, by addressing some questions to Principal Grey.
“How is it that I have seen no old people since I came to your country?”
I asked. “Is it because you keep them secluded after they have arrived
at a certain age, or because you die comparatively young?”
“My dear woman,” was the Principal’s reply, “We have both met and spoken
to a great many old people this very evening. Do you mind telling me
what you call old age? Perhaps your ideas and mine on the subject differ
considerably.”
“Well,” I replied, “We call seventy or eighty very old, of course.”
The Professor looked at me with great astonishment. “Seventy or eighty!”
she exclaimed. “Why, how old do you take me to be?”
Had it been an ordinary English lady who had asked me this home
question, I should probably have hesitated in my reply. But this was a
being who despised the appellative _lady_, with all its accompanying
affectations, and prided herself upon nothing so much as being an
honest, truthful, candid _woman_. So I made what I considered to be a
fair guess, and replied that I judged her age to be about forty or
thereabouts.
“Only forty!” was the disparaging comment upon this guess. “I am very
glad to say that it is long since I passed that baby age. One must be at
least forty-five before a position like mine is attainable. I have
occupied my present post for thirty-five years.”
“Now, you are asking me to believe too much,” I expostulated. “Why, you
would at that rate be eighty years old at the very least, and you have
not even the suspicion of a wrinkle about you.”
“Wrinkles are not necessary evils,” I was told. “We prefer to do without
them, and seldom see them in real life, though we are familiar enough
with their presentment in ancient prints. My actual age is one hundred
and fourteen years, and I hope to live a life of honourable usefulness
for many years to come, without losing the proud consciousness that I
belong to a race of beings fashioned and developed in the Life-giver’s
own image.”
I could only ejaculate the surprise I felt at this startling
information, and stammer something to the effect that I had never before
seen anyone who had lived a whole century, and that when such a rare
thing did occur in my country, it was considered a fit occurrence to be
recorded in the newspapers.
“Can you tell me what anyone of my age would look like in your country?
Supposing that I myself were one of you, and had reached my present age
under the normal conditions which govern life with you, what do you
really suppose I would look like?”
I am the reverse of clever with my pencil, but the picture which I
rapidly sketched would, in my opinion, have proved rather flattering
than otherwise, under the circumstances indicated by the Principal. She,
however, evidently did not regard it in that light, for she looked at
the sketch with a face of horror and repulsion, which was as comical to
me as it was evidently real.
“What a frightful country to live in,” she exclaimed, “if everyone who
has attained to years of discretion is doomed to look like that! I would
rather pass my probation with the spirits than endure such a hideous
mockery of life. To watch the gradual decay of all physical beauty must
be an almost unendurable torment.”
“There you are mistaken,” I responded, somewhat warmly. “Our old people,
provided they have, by an honourable and useful life, gained the respect
of their fellows, are honoured more in old age than in comparative
youth. It is true that the eyesight becomes impaired; the sense of
hearing fails; the teeth fall out; the appetite becomes dulled; strength
vanishes; and the gait becomes feeble and halting. But it is also true
that in most cases the mental faculties are simultaneously affected, and
that the consciousness of physical deterioration, therefore, fails to
affect our old people as powerfully as you might think.”
“Worse and worse!” cried the Principal, with emphatic conviction. “It
seems to me that with you to live is simply to be fully conscious of
dying. No New Amazonian would support such a miserable existence for a
day. I, for one, would at once resolve to disembody myself, and seek
final glorification in a less trammelled state.”
“Disembody yourself? Do you mean that you would commit suicide?”
“I mean that my body should cease to live.”
“But it is a crime to take the life God gave us.”
“I see that superstition ranks rife with you. We should consider it a
much greater crime to permit a grovelling, decaying body to chain the
spirit to earth and nothingness, than to sever the life which prevents
it from seeking perfection in more congenial regions.”
“I certainly do feel lamentably dense and ignorant while listening to
you. I cannot, for instance, fathom your meaning when you say the spirit
can seek perfection after death.”
“The spirit never dies. The body is but the casing in which the spirit
is given its greatest opportunities of seeking final glorification. As
we acquire knowledge of every kind, and learn more and more to fathom
the secrets which nature has so long guarded with such jealousy, so much
nearer shall we be towards the ultimate perfection of the spirit which
assimilates most nearly to Life-giver herself, and constitutes our ideal
of final bliss. After the death of our material form, we still strive to
reach our desired goal, but our progress, when disembodied, is not so
rapid as while still inhabiting our earthly casing, and our ultimate
arrival at the zenith of wisdom, purity, and bliss; in other words,
Heaven, may be delayed for ages by a premature exit from this world.
“Naturally, therefore, we try to prolong the healthy life of the body by
all the arts in our power, knowing that it is given us as a special
means of attaining Heavenly perfection. A diseased body inevitably
affects the mind, and prevents it from soaring upwards. Therefore, we
argue, one of the surest ways of reaching Heaven is to cultivate the
health and perfection of the body.
“If this material part of us, therefore, falls into permanent sickness,
uselessness, and decay, it but serves to trammel the spirit, and hinder
its further advancement. This we are not inclined to tolerate, and when
the misfortune of physical wreck overtakes any of us, we liberate the
spirit without any wasteful delay. A certain mineral extract, added to
an ordinary dose of Schlafstrank, quietly and painlessly disposes of our
physical existence, and sends the spirit on its way, rejoicing in its
new found freedom.”
“You mean that what we call chronic invalidism does not exist among you,
simply because your people are in the habit of killing themselves as
soon as health leaves them. It is one way of escaping earthly troubles.
But are there not some exceedingly painful scenes when the conviction is
forced home to anyone that it is becoming necessary to do this? Do you
feel no horror of the passage from Here to the great Hereafter?”
“Why should we? A sickly body is no fit tenement for a spirit which is
striving for Allwisdom and Deitic Purity. So the sooner we discard it,
the sooner we reach Heaven. Sometimes we are sorry to leave friends
behind, but I never heard anyone who felt the slightest dread of
severance, or who ever hesitated a moment as to the ultimate benefits of
such a step. On the contrary, it often occurs that New Amazonians are
inclined to discard the body before it is needful or expedient to do so.
We, therefore, do not sanction self-extinction until our physicians and
surgeons have carefully diagnosed a case, and pronounced their opinion
on it. If there is any chance of recovery, the patient is subjected to
the influence of Schlafstrank, and eventually awakens cheerfully,
prepared to make a sensible use of the respite given to the body. If
recovery is hopeless, the patient is provided with mineralized
Schlafstrank, and at once cheerfully relinquishes all hold upon matter.”
“But suppose the subject is insane; what is done then?”
“Ah, well, insanity is of very rare occurrence with us. The Mother takes
such care of her children that they have practically no anxieties. While
we are young we are educated and cared for, and when we are old we are
always pensioned off, and do not need to labour unless we choose. Few of
us, however, care to give up work altogether. When, unfortunately,
physical influences work upon the mind in such a manner as to produce
the phenomenon called insanity, the Mother at once relieves the spirit
of the ties which would effectually prevent the slightest advancement,
towards the great goal.”
“Kills all insane persons, in fact?”
“Yes; in mercy and justice to themselves.”
“And what is your theory as to the condition of insane people after
death?”
“Well, they are more remotely removed from the state which entitles us
to the bliss of living in unison with Life-giver, because the condition
of the body has prevented them from acquiring the degree of perfection
which can be reached by healthy persons. But it is only a question of
time and degree. Insanity is a disease of the brain; the brain is
essentially material; release the spirit from this gross encasement, and
its chances of ultimately reaching Heaven are as great as when it first
emanated from our glorious Life-giver herself.”
“I suppose crime is occasionally to be met with in New Amazonia?”
“Sometimes; but very rarely. There is very little incentive to crime
here; when it does occur, we accept it as an indication of a diseased
brain, and forthwith use our best efforts to cure the disease. We
generally succeed in doing so; but if the case, after repeated and
careful doctoring, proves incurable, of course the ordinary treatment of
the hopelessly insane is adopted.”
“But do you feel no repulsion at the idea of sending a soul stained with
crime to Hell?”
“Hell? There is no Hell! That is an old superstition of the Ancients at
which I have often wondered.”
“After that I am prepared to hear you say that there is no devil!”
“Most certainly I do say so. I have read of the most extraordinary
beliefs in witchcraft, sorcery, and the possession by evil spirits, to
which all nations used to lend themselves. It was said that they were
perpetually at war with all the children of Life-giver, and that the
sole purpose of their existence was to prevent people from getting to
Heaven. Our great God, whom we call Life-giver, created us in Her image,
to be Her associates as soon as our spirits are sufficiently ennobled
and purified. Life-giver is good. She has created everything. She loves
the creatures She has cast in Her own image. She would not deliberately
try to negative Her own work by creating evil spirits to harass us. As
for anything being at deliberate war with Her, and going about the world
endeavouring to foil Her plans, it is preposterous to believe it. She
would at once annihilate anything so monstrous.”
“But you surely do not believe that we shall all, good and evil, be
awarded the same fate after death?”
“No, I do not. Have I not already tried to explain this to you? Our
earthly career is our training school. If we take advantage of all our
opportunities, and act in accordance with what we conceive to be the
wishes of a Divine and Beneficent Creator, we may hope to be translated
to ultimate bliss at no distant period after the death of our bodies.
But if we deliberately fail to travel in the direction of steady
advancement, we condemn our spirit to endure ages of banishment before
it is finally sufficiently purified to partake of the happiness which is
the portion of those who have pierced the veil of ignorance, and have
entered the kingdom of Divine All-knowledge and Beatitude. You talk of a
place called Hell! What worse punishment can be needed for erring souls
than to know that to their own perversity they are indebted for being
debarred from all happiness and association with purer spirits for ages
untold!”
“One more question. We believe that Jesus of Nazareth was sent to save
sinners. Do you reject that doctrine?”
“In one sense, yes. In another, no. We believe that from time to time
our Creator has permitted individual beings to lead such pure and holy
lives as to be a shining example to others, and a stimulus to exertion
in the right direction. Jesus of Nazareth was one of the greatest and
noblest of these men, and, as such, his name is honoured amongst us. But
we do not believe that the Creator awarded incalculable suffering to one
creature, in order that we might suffer less. We are sentient beings,
and are expected to work out our own salvation.”
Thus far Principal Grey had been very patient with me, but as there are
limits even to New Amazonian endurance, I resolved to refrain from
questioning her further during this walk, and bestowed a little more
attention upon surrounding objects, while at the same time carefully
weighing the import of our long conversation.