“And have you reached that state, Mijnheer Swammerdam?”
“If I had reached that state I would not be sitting here, Mejuffrouw.”
“You say that ordinary people think by letting words run through their brain”, said Sephardi, whose interest had been aroused. “How is it with someone who is born deaf and dumb and has never learnt a language?”
“He thinks partly through images and partly in the primal language.”
“Me let speak, Swammerdamleben”, shouted Lazarus Egyolk in his grotesque Dutch mixed with Russian and Yiddish; he had obviously worked himself up into an argumentative mood, “Now, you have Cabbala, but I have Cabbala, too. ‘In the beginning was the word’ is not the right translation. ‘Bereshith’ means `head-thing’, not ‘in the beginning’.”
“The head-thing”, murmured Swammerdam and then, after a moment’s silent reflection, “I know. But the meaning is the same.”
The others had listened in silence and gave each other significant looks.
Eva van Druysen felt instinctively how at the word ‘headthing’ the olive-green face came into her mind and she shot an inquiring glance at Sephardi who gave her a faint nod.
He it was who eventually broke the silence, since no one else looked as if they were going to speak. “In what manner was the gift of prophecy granted to your friend Klinkherbogk and in what way does it appear?” he asked.
Swammerdam started, as if waking from a dream, “Klinkherbogk?” He collected his thoughts, “Klinkherbogk sought God all his life until eventually itcompletely occupied his whole mind and for many years he was so consumed with longing that he could not sleep. One night when he was sitting as usual by his globe - you know, I’m sure, that shoemakers use globes filled with waterthat they place in front of the candle to improve the light they work by - a figure grew out of the light inside it and came up to him; then it happened just as it is recorded in the Apocalypse: the angel gave him a book to eat and said, `Take it and eat it up; and it shall make thy belly bitter, but it shall be in thy mouth sweet as honey.’ The face of the apparition was veiled, only its forehead was visible and glowing on it was a resplendent green cross.”
Eva van Druysen remembered her father’s words about the ghosts that bear the Mark of Life openly, and for a moment a shiver of fear ran down her spine.
“Since that time Klinkherbogk had the ‘inner voice’ “, continued Swammerdam, “and it came out of his mouth and told him, and me - at that time I was his only disciple - how we should live that we might eat of the Wood ofLife that is in God’s paradise. And a promise was made to us: yet a little while and all the sorrows of this vale of tears would slip from us, and like Job we would receive a thousandfold whatever life had taken away.”
Doctor Sephardi was tempted to object that it was fooling oneself and dangerous to putone’s faith in such prophecies from the subconscious, but he was stopped by the memory of Pfeill’s story of the green beetle. Anyway, it was clear that the time for warnings was past.
However, the old man seemed to have guessed the train of his thoughts, more or less, for he continued, “It was fifty years ago that the promise was made to us, but we must exercise patience and continue to pour our prayers into ourhearts without ceasing, until the rebirth is complete.” He spoke the words calmly and apparently full of confidence, but there was a tremor in his voice, like the foreboding of dreadful despair to come, which betrayed how much he had to keep himself under control so as not to shake the others’ belief.
“You have been doing this for fifty years? That is terrible!” Doctor Sephardi exclaimed before he could stop himself.
“Oh, it is so beautiful, so divine to see how everything is fulfilled”, lisped Mademoiselle de Bourignon ecstatically, “and to see all the sublime spirits flock together round Abram - that is the spiritual name of Anselm Klinkherbogk, for he is the Patriarch - and lay the foundation stone for a New Jerusalem here in Amsterdam, in lowly Zeedijk. Mary Faatz (she used to be a prostitute and now she is our pious Sister Magdalena)”, she whispered behind her hand to her niece, “has come and … and Lazarus has been raised from the dead. But of course, I didn’t tell you about that miracle in the letter I wrote inviting you to come and join our circle: just imagine, Lazarus was raised from the dead by Abram!” Jan Swammerdam stood up, walked over to the window and stared silently out into the darkness. “Yes, oh yes, raised bodily from the dead! He lay dead on the floor of his shop and Abram came and brought him back to life.”
All eyes were fixed on Egyolk, who turned away in embarrassment and whispered into Doctor Sephardi’s ear, with much gesticulation and shrugging of shoulders, that there was something in it, “Unconscious I was, certainly, perhaps dead, who knows? Why should I not have been dead? I ask you, an old man like me?”
“And that is why I beseech you, Eva”, Mademoiselle de Bourignon urged her niece: “to join our brotherhood, for the Kingdom is at hand and the last shall be first.”
The druggist’s assistant, who until then had not said a word but sat next to Sister Magdalena holding her hand in his, suddenly rose to his feet, thumped the table with his fist and stuttered, his inflamed eyelids wide apart, “Ye-ye-yes-, th-th-the f-f-first shall b-b-be last and it is easier f-f-for a ca-ca-ca-“
`Tfhe spirit has come upon him. It is the Logos speaking through him”, cried the Guardian of the Threshold. “Eva, harbour every word in your heart!”
“-ca-camel to g-g-go through the eye of a n-n-n-“
Jan Swammerdam hurried over to the possessed shop assistant, whose face was gradually taking on an ugly expression, and calmed him down with a few mesmeric passes over his forehead and mouth.
“That is only the `inversion’ as we call it, Mejuffrouw”, explained Sister Shulamite to calm down Eva van Druysen, who had rushed in horror to the door. “Brother Ezekiel sometimes suffers from it, and then his lower nature gains control over his higher. But it’s over now.” Brother Ezekiel had dropped down onto all fours and was barking and growling like a dog whilst the girl from the Salvation Anny was kneeling next to him, stroking his hair. “Judge not, lest you yourself bejudged; we are all miserable sinners and Brother Ezekiel spends his whole life, day in, day out, down in the dark store-room, so it sometimes happens that when he sees rich people - excuse me speaking so openly, Mejuffrouw - a great bitterness comes over him and clouds his spirit. Believe me, Mejuffrouw, poverty is a great burden; where should a young soul such as his find enough trust in God to bear it?”
For the first time in her life Eva van Druysen found herself looking into the lower depths, and things which until then she had only read ofin books suddenly took on a terrible reality. And yet it was only a brief flash of lightning that was scarcely enough to illuminate the darkness of more than a small part of the pit.
`How many much more dreadful things’, she thought to herself, `must there be slumbering in the depths where the eyes of those favoured by destiny seldom reach.’
It was as if a kind of spiritual explosion had blown away all the veneer of social conduct and revealed to her a soul in all its ugly nakedness, reduced to a wild animal in the very same moment as the words of Him who died upon the cross for love came from his lips.
She was filled with horror at the consciousness of her own share in the enormous guilt which came from merely belonging to aprivileged class with its quite understandable lack of interest in the suffering of one’s fellow men, a sin of omission whose cause was as minuscule as a grain of sand, its effect as devastating as an avalanche. The shock was like that of someone idly playing with what they think is a rope and suddenly discovering they have a poisonous snake in their hands.
When Shulamite first mentioned Brother Ezekiel’s poverty, Eva’s immediate impulse was to take out her purse, a reflex action by which the heart hopes to catch reason by surprise; but then she felt that it was the wrong moment to offer assistance, and instead of relieving her sense of guilt by that one action, she resolved that in future she would make better an
d more thorough amends. It was the oldest stratagem in the armoury of selfdeceit: to gain time until the feeling of pity is past.
In the meantime Ezekiel had recovered from his fit and was weeping quietly to himself.
Sephardi, who, like all the aristocratic Dutch Jews, held fast to the custom of his forefathers never to enter someone else’s house without bringing some small gift, used it as an opportunity to draw the group’s attention away from the poor deranged shop assistant by unwrapping a silver incense-burner and handing it to Swammerdam.
“Gold, frankincense and myrrh, the three Wise Men from the East”, whispered the `Guardian of the Threshold’, her voice cracking with emotion and her eyes turned to the ceiling. “Yesterday, Doctor, when we heard you would be accompanying Eva, Abram gave you the spiritual name of Balthasarand lo! you have come bringing incense! And King Melchior - in ordinary life he is called Baron Pfeill, little Kaatje told me that - also appeared to us in spirit today”, she turned with a mysterious air to the others who looked up in astonishment, “and sent money. Oh, I can see it with my soul’s eye: Caspar, the King from the Land of the Moors, is near at hand,” - she gave Mary Faatz an ecstatic stare which Sister Magdalena returned - “yes, the end of time is fast approaching -“
She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Klinkherbogk’s little granddaughter Kaatje entered and said, “You are all to come up quickly, grandfather is having his second birth.”
Eva van Dniysen held Swammerdam back before they followed the others who were already climbing the stairs to Klinkherbogk’s attic. “Excuse me, Mijnheer Swammerdam, I would like to ask you a brief question. All that you said about hysteria and the power that resides in names made me think; but, on the other hand …”
“Allow me to give you a piece of advice, Mejuffrouw.” Swammerdam looked at her earnestly. “I am well aware that everything that you saw and heard just now has only confused you. But it could be of great importance to you if you learn from it the first lesson, and that is to seek spiritual enlightenment not from others but within yourself. Only the teachings that come from our own spirit come at the right moment, at the moment when we are ready for them. You must close your eyes and ears to revelations made to others. The path to eternal life is as narrow as a knife-edge; you cannot help others when you see them stumble, nor should you expect help from them. Anyone who watches others will lose his balance and plunge into the abyss. Here we do not advance together as in the world outside; a guide is essential, but he must come to you from the spirit world. Only in worldly things can a man of this world be your guide and you should judge him by his actions. Everything that does not come from the spirit is lifeless clay, and we refuse to pray to any other God than the one who reveals Himself to us within our own souls.”
“But what if God does not reveal Himself within me?”
“Then you must fmd a moment of calm and quiet and call to Him with the urgency of all your longing.”
“And then you think He will come? How easy that would be.”
“He will come! But do not be afraid, first He will appear as the chastiser of your former deeds, as the terrible God of the Old Testament who said, `An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. He will reveal Himself to you in sudden blows of fate. First of all you must lose everything, even “, Swammerdam said it softly, as if he were afraid of her hearing it, “even God, if you want to fmd Him afresh. Only when your vision of Him has been purified of shape and form, of all division into outer and inner, creator and creature, spirit and matter, will you -“
“See Him?”
“No. Never. But you will see yourself with His eyes. You will be freed from mortal clay, for your life will have merged with His and your consciousness will no longer be dependent on the physical body, which will continue to pursue its path to the grave like a shadow without substance.”
“But what is the point of the blows of fate that you spoke of? Are they a test, or a punishment?”
“There are neither tests nor punishments. Physical existence with all its vicissitudes is nothing other than a healing process, more painful for some, less for others, depending on the extent of the sickness our spiritual vision suffers from.”
“And you think that if I call on God, as you say, my destiny will change?”
“Immediately! Only it will not just `change’, it will become like a galloping horse that has been going at a slow trot until then.”
“Did your destiny gallop along then? Excuse my asking, but from all that I have heard about you…”
“You assume my life must have ambled along at a slow, monotonous pace, Mejuffrouw”, smiled Swammerdam. “Remember what I told you before? Do not concern yourself with what happens to others. For some there is a vast world outside, to others it seems no bigger than a nutshell. If you are serious about wanting your destiny to accelerate to a gallop, then - I warn you about this while I recommend it because it is the only thing a person should do and at the same time the heaviest sacrifice one can make - you must call on the innermost core of your being, the core without which you would be a lifeless corpse (or not even that), and order it to lead you by the shortest route to the greatest goal, the only one that is worth striving for, even if you do not realise it at the moment; you must order it to be merciless in leading you without rest through sickness, suffering, death and sleep, through honours, riches and joy, ever onward, through everything, like a runaway horse dragging a carriage over ploughland and stones, past flowers and blossoming groves. That is what I mean when I say `Call on God’. It must be like a vow made to a listening ear.”
“But, Master, what if destiny should come over me like that and I weaken and … and want to turn back?”
“Once on the spiritual path the only ones who can turn back -no, not even turn back, stop and look back and turn into a pillar of salt - are those who have not made the vow. A spiritual vow is like an order and, in this at least, God is the servant who is charged with carrying out that order. Do not be shocked, Mejuffrouw, it is not blasphemy. Quite the contrary. Therefore - what I am going to say to you now is foolishness, I know; I say it out of pity and everything that is done out of pity is foolishness - therefore I warn you: do not pledge too much! Otherwise you might end up like the thief whose bones were broken on the cross.”
Swammerdam’s face had gone white with the intensity of feeling.
Eva grasped his hand. “I thank you, Master. I know now what I must do.”
The old man drew her to him and, choking with emotion, planted a kiss on her forehead. “May the Lord of destinies be a merciful doctor, my child.”
They went up the stairs.
Just outside the attic Eva stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Tell me one more thing, Master. The millions who bled and suffered: none of them had made the vow. Why all that suffering?”
“Do you know forsure that they had not made the vow? Could it not have happened in a previous existence,” answered Swammerdam calmly, “or while they were in a deep sleep, when men’s souls are most wide-awake and best know what theirneed is?”
It was as if a curtain had been rent in two, and Eva was blinded by the light of a new insight. Those few last words had told her more about the goal of human existence than all the religious systems in the world could have. All complaints about the supposed injustice of fate were silenced by the knowledge that we all follow the road we have chosen.
“If the things that happen in our group mean nothing to you, Meffrouw, do not let that bother you. Often you find a track that goes downhill and it turns out to be the shortest route to the next climb. The fever that accompanies spiritual convalescence often looks very like satanic corruption. I am not `King Solomon’ and Lazarus Egyolk is not ‘Simon the Crossbearer’; he is called that because, in Mademoiselle de Boungnon’s somewhat too external conception of things, he once lent Klinkherbogk money when he was in great need; but that does not mean that this mingling of Old and New Testament is necessarily nonsense. What we find in the
Bible is not only the record of events from past times, but the road from Adam to Christ which we have to follow through the magic of inner growth from `name’ to `name’, that is, with the unfolding of ever greaterpower”, said Swanunerdam, giving Eva his arm as they climbed the last few steps, “from the expulsion from the garden of Eden to the resurrection. For some it can become a road of terror and …”, again he murmured to himself the words about the thief whose bones were broken on the cross.
Mademoiselle de Bourignon and the rest had waited outside the attic for them to arrive (apart from Lazarus Egyolk, who had gone down to his own room) and deluged her niece in a cascade of words before they entered, in order to ensure that she was suitably prepared.
“Just think, Eva, an event of indescribable magnitude has taken place. And today of all days, on the precise date of the summer solstice! Oh! it is all so unutterably meaningful and - now what was I going to say? Oh yes, the long-awaited event has come to pass: the spiritual man has been born in Father Abram, and he heard it crying within himself as he was nailing the heel to the sole of a shoe, and that, as is well known, is the `second birth’, for the first is the stomach-ache, it says so in the Scriptures if you know how to read it aright, and soon all the three Kings will be together because Mary Faatz told me recently that she has met - though only briefly - a black savage who lives in Amsterdam, and an hour ago she saw him through the window sitting in the tavern below, and I immediately saw it was the hand of Divine Providence, since it can be none other than King Caspar from the land of the Moors; oh, that it is I who have been found worthy of discovering the third of the Wise Men! I am so blissfully happy I can hardly wait for the moment when I can send Mary to bring him up.”
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