_THE MAGICIANS IN HELL._
[Illustration: Initial]
We had then a long conversation about the mysteries of regeneration or the
new birth, scarcely any of which are known to mankind, or would be
believed if they were revealed. This knowledge is so peculiarly spiritual
and angelic that it seems useless for me to say anything about it. If a
church on earth ever comprehends these divine arcana, it will only be when
the Lord sees fit to open his heavens anew, and to unfold the spiritual
meaning of his Word.
“You have now seen,” said my father, “the three great spheres which
represent the three degrees of the human mind. That Jesus Christ met and
resisted the powers of hell in all these spheres, is shown in his
temptations in the wilderness. By conquering these evil spheres in his
human form and through his divine power, He is enabled henceforth to
deliver all men from similar infestations. This was the great purpose of
his incarnation. His temptation will appear to men as an historical event
enacted at a certain time and space. To angels it seems a condensed
statement of his whole spiritual life, of his entire redemptive work, from
the assumption of humanity to his final and perfect glorification.”
“Who is the devil,” said I, “that was capable of tempting the Holy One so
severely?”
“The devil is no single individual, but the whole combined evil world,
speaking and acting through one medium. You seem surprised; but nothing is
more common in the spiritual world than for a whole society of spirits,
even millions in number, to think, feel, and express themselves
simultaneously through one of their number.
“Do you not remember that when Jesus asked a certain maniac his name, the
devil within him replied:
“‘My name is Legion: for we are many.’”
This led to the strange subject of demoniac possession. I told my father
that the Greek philosophers and physicians, who were considered the
profoundest thinkers in the world, scouted the idea of evil spirits taking
possession of men. They attributed all such cases to the effect of
physical disease.
“They know nothing whatever,” said my guide, “of the relation between
spirit and matter. Their philosophy of man, history, and nature is
superficial and false. Their boasted light is darkness to our spiritual
perceptions, and their scientific verbiage the merest babble.
“It is true, my son, that devils are continually aspiring to break through
from hell into the world of spirits; and by means of evil spirits in this
world, especially those fresh from the earth, to possess and govern men in
the natural world. If the divine hand were not put forth to arrest this
influx of hell into the world of nature, three centuries would not elapse
before all mankind would be imbecile or insane, and would destroy each
other like wild beasts.”
“Mankind,” said I, “are totally ignorant of the fearful dangers which hang
over them.”
“Of course they are. These dangers come from the unseen spiritual side.
They know nothing and believe nothing of the unseen.”
“Can you tell me anything of the spiritual philosophy of magic?”
“A sphere inconceivably subtle and wicked! It obtained its first foothold
in Egypt ages before the historic period, and has penetrated thence, under
different forms and names, into all the countries of the world.”
“We had some painful experiences with it soon after your departure from
the natural world; but my philosophic studies at Athens led me to suppose
that magic was an imposture based upon absurd superstitions.”
“Magic, my son, is at present a fearful reality. It is the means by which
the wicked can summon around them the worst spirits, and obtain control
over man and nature. By its means they can overcome physical obstacles;
can see and hear at incredible distances; can produce dreams and
illusions; can make one thing appear another; effect transformations which
seem miraculous; call up the spirits of the dead; take absolute possession
of the fancy and the will; and control their victim in all his thoughts
and actions. They can give wise answers and frequently foretell future
events. They can imitate good and heavenly things with such marvelous
accuracy, as to impose themselves as illumined teachers and prophets upon
mankind.”
“How could such a fearful thing have originated? Whence is its power?”
“From the perversion and profanation of holy things; from the abuse of the
knowledge of correspondence, which is the secret bond between spirit and
matter, and for that reason is now concealed from mankind. When the sons
of Aaron put strange fire upon the altar of the Lord, they were consumed.
When the sons of the prophet shred the wild vine into the pot, there was
death in the pottage. That strange fire, that wild vine is magic. Magic is
the perversion of truth—the science and the religion of hell.”
“Can you foresee the future of this terrible power?”
“Yes—so far as we can infer that certain material effects must flow in
time from certain spiritual causes. The great judgment which Christ is now
executing in this world of spirits, will cast all these magical powers
into hell and shut them up for ever. This is a part of the saving work of
the Redeemer. He delivers men, not from the punishment but from the
bondage of sin. Magic will then cease upon earth. The fragments and
shadows of it may annoy mankind for ages; but its central power will have
been bruised and broken, and it will become such barefaced superstition,
trickery, and sleight-of-hand, that future generations will find it
difficult to believe that it ever was anything else.
“Come!” he added; “I am permitted to show you one of the old Egyptians at
his work.”
We now descended into a dark cavern which appeared on our left, but which
I had not noticed before. It sloped downward, with ragged black rocks
protruding from its walls. The atmosphere was at first so stifling that I
could hardly proceed. We emerged after a while into a level country under
a sky of a dark gray color. A blood-red sun, never setting, stood low in
the west, casting a lurid light over all things. Our path was along the
bank of a large river, moving sluggishly and darkly between gigantic reeds
and rushes. Huge crocodiles and monstrous beasts I had never seen before,
lay here and there, half in the mud and half in the water. Away in the
distance rose many colossal forms, pyramids, sphynxes, obelisks, palaces,
temples—vast shadows as it were against the sky. Now and then we passed a
statue of stone or bronze, higher than the tallest trees, and so sad,
stern and lifelike, it was difficult not to believe that it was the lost
soul of some old Egyptian king, doomed to perpetual misery in the outward
form of eternal repose.
“You must know,” said my father, “that to enable us to enter these awful
gateways of hell, an invisible guard of thousands of angels is necessary.”
I was relieved by this thought; for a sensation of fear had already begun
to oppress me. I had learned enough of the spiritual world to know that
all this wild and grotesque scenery was the outbirth of the life and
memories of evil spirits, and could be dissipated in a moment, or changed
into something horrible by the revealing light of heaven.
We now came to a great palace which seemed built of ebony, with
foundations, doors, and cornices of bronze. The gates leading to its
courtyard were of immense size, and constructed of dingy brass. A strange
inscription ran across the arch, which I asked my father to interpret.
“That,” said he, “is the Ten Commandments reversed, representing the laws
which govern in this evil sphere. Much of it is too dim for one to read;
but see!
“Thou shalt kill.
“Thou shalt steal.
“Thou shalt commit adultery.”
“Hold!” said I, “what profanation! what blasphemy.”
“Yes, my son! Hell is the opposite of heaven.”
The courtyard was laid out in curious geometric figures, and adorned with
many extraordinary plants and flowers, but mainly of yellow and purple
hues.
“Flowers at the doorway of hell! I thought that flowers were the children
of heaven, the fragments of divine wisdom showered upon men in the
disguise of beautiful forms, fragrances and colors.”
“So they are,” said my father; “and the floral kingdom here is antipodal
to the floral kingdom in heaven; the concentration of all that is
malignant and baleful in the thoughts and feelings of the inhabitants of
that doleful place.”
I shuddered as I passed these infernal flowers; and we mounted the iron
steps of the palace, walking between the statues of two great brazen bulls
as we entered the hall.
A servant came forward to receive us, of such hideous form that I started
back in terror. He was nearly naked, and thousands of hieroglyphic figures
had been burned into his body in black and red colors. His face was the
face of an embalmed person, long dead, shriveled and ghastly.
While we were speaking to this frightful personage, a hoarse, sepulchral
voice issued from a half-open door:
“Bring them in. I have felt their coming.”
We passed into a chamber of immense size,—for everything in the shadowy
world seemed to me colossal. I instantly perceived that it was the
counterpart of the chamber of magic in the house of Magistus, so minutely
described to me by my sister Martha.
“Behold the source of inspiration to Simon Magus!” said I to myself.
I recognized all the objects mentioned by the eyewitnesses of that
remarkable scene between Simon and the magicians; the marble platform; the
black table with the zodiac upon it; the images on the wall. Even the
leopard and serpent were there. The magician was an old man,
stern-featured, cruel-eyed, worn and wasted, with some personal
resemblance to Simon Magus.
“I have had violent pains about my heart and difficult breathing,” said
the evil spirit slowly, “ever since you entered my kingdom. I know who you
are and who protects you. Your presence tortures me; so be brief with your
mission. I will answer you truthfully, for the experience of ages has
taught me that it is useless to resist that sphere. Be quick and release
me.”
“This,” said my father, “is one of the magicians of Egypt, who imitated
the miracles of Moses and Aaron. He is the most cunning and powerful of
the species.”
Addressing the magician, he continued:
“I am instructing this novitiate spirit who accompanies me, in the
relation between the spiritual and the natural worlds. I have told him
that all false and evil things are breathed into men by wicked spirits:
that magic is the science of evil springing from the perversion of good,
and a means by which you attempt to govern men.”
“You speak truly,” said the evil spirit, rubbing his hands with glee; “you
speak truly. Our power is immense: our wisdom is incredible. We have
vastly more influence over men than the angels. You have heard of the
witch of Endor who brought Samuel from the dead. We can reverse that
wonderful art. We can bring those living upon earth into our presence. I
will show you one of my favorite slaves, a fellow of great capacity and
boundless ambition; a genius worthy of the grand inspiration with which I
animate his soul.”
Thereupon his servant unrolled a great white curtain against the wall. The
spirit went through sundry unintelligible incantations: and slowly the
perfect portrait of Simon Magus appeared before our eyes.
“He seems to be in a paroxysm of rage,” said I.
“Yes,” answered the spirit. “He derived it from me a few moments ago. I
was foaming with passion just before you entered my palace: and now the
fury is expending itself on him.”
“The evil passions of men,” said my father, “have previously passed
through the dark and filthy souls of evil spirits.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the magician. “My victim thinks it is original with
himself. Indeed, the deluded fellow believes he controls me and a vast
number of other spirits. The merest tool in our hands, the dull, slow
machine through which we work our fiery wills, our stupendous plans; he
conceives himself to be possessed of miraculous power! Men who think they
control spirits, are always controlled by them. Ha! ha! ha!”
“Beware,” said my father; “are your own inspirations original? Have you
ever heard of Ja-bol-he-moth?”
“Yes—and seen him,” he answered trembling.
“Alas! alas!” he added slowly and painfully. “We govern men from our
stand-point: but there are deeper and more direful hells that govern us.
We are slaves also.
“Oh! if Ja-bol-he-moth,” he suddenly exclaimed with a fierce earnestness,
“if Ja-bol-he-moth and other great antediluvian giants could only escape
from their imprisonment, we would soon transform the whole earth to our
liking.”
“Unhappy spirit!” said I, “do you find pleasure in the contemplation of
such a thought?”
“The only pleasure that is left me,” he replied; and passed into a frigid
state with a deadly, stony stare, more like a statue than a man.
“Come,” said my father, “our sphere has paralyzed him. I have one more
strange thing to show you before we return to the world of spirits.”
We left the ebony palace; and turning from the dark river with its
colossal reeds and rushes, we passed into a wilderness of sand, over which
hung a gloomier twilight than any we had before witnessed.
Presently there appeared before us a great black dome of iron, reaching
across the horizon from east to west, and sloping upward from the sand
even to the sky. The blackness, the immensity, the gloom of this strange
object cast a fearful shadow on my soul.
“This,” said my father with deep solemnity, “is the tomb of the
antediluvian world, which none can open or shut but Christ. In the
terrible abysses underneath are imprisoned the evil spirits whose judgment
is described in the Scriptures as a flood. Unless the Messiah had come in
the flesh, this antediluvian sphere would have broken forth and deluged
the world of spirits and the world of men.”
“What would be the consequence?” said I.
“The total suffocation of the spiritual life, as the natural life is
suffocated by drowning; a complete torpor of the moral sense, a paralysis
of the intellectual faculties. Mankind would relapse into barbarism. The
physical system would degenerate. The skin would become black and fetid;
the hair woolly, the nose flat, the forehead low and debased. One step
more, and from barbarians men would become beasts.
“This process of degeneration had already made sad havoc with a large
portion of the human race, when the closure of the antediluvian hells and
the institution of a new order of things arrested its march. So the
African now stands torpid, unprogressive, sensual, barbaric, bearing on
his very body the typical shadows of hell.”
“Is there no hope for him?” said I, sadly,—for my mind reverted to my
trusty friends, Ethopus and Anthony.
“Oh yes,” said my father, “Jehovah is good to all, and his tender mercies
are over all his works.
“The Lord in the form of a Divine Man will close these ancient hells and
beat back the waves of evil. Great organic changes will go in the
spiritual and natural worlds. In the far-off ages there will be a last
judgment in the world of spirits and a new church upon earth. New causes
will be set in operation; and these Africans at last will be delivered
from their hereditary curse, and restored to the form of beauty and wisdom
which their ancestors enjoyed in the beginning of the world.”
I rejoiced at this glorious prophecy. And while thinking of the tender and
noble emotions which seemed to govern the only Africans I had ever known,
we ascended into the world of spirits, whose beautiful and peace-giving
light I hailed with unspeakable pleasure.
“How little the inhabitants of earth know,” said I, to myself, “of the
spiritual philosophy of history!”
[Illustration: Ornament]
[Illustration: Ornament]