by Howard Pyle
* * * * *
Now, in the celestial heaven of angels there is neither marriage nor giving in marriage, for no man can ascend into heaven unless he be truly married, and no woman can ascend into that heaven except with her husband. When the man and the woman (being regenerate in the spirit to innocence) are made one in perfect love, then they must needs ascend in a little while into heaven celestial. Being so married they are completed, becoming a perfect man. Being perfect, they must become a part of the heaven of angels.
When Daihas was twenty-one years of age and Aiha eighteen they were married. They then ascended almost directly into heaven celestial.
Such a thing never happened before, even in that angel-like society, that a man and a woman, without having had to suffer a pang, without having had to endure a single throe of temptation, without having had to bow beneath a single feather’s weight of labor, should directly enter heaven, perfect, immaculate, sinless.
* * * * *
It was not the heaven of fire into which the two had ascended, but the heaven of light. Nevertheless, though the heaven of light is nearer to man than that other sphere of living flame, it is yet impossible for words to formulate or thoughts to conceive the wonder and the glory of all that is there. It can only be dimly perceived when it conjoins or adjoins itself with certain things of this world belonging obscurely to it.
The two innocent ones found all that they entered into of Paradise ready and waiting for them. They did not make for themselves the wonderful and exquisite things in the midst of which they lived, and which they were to enjoy in the heaven celestial into which they had come; those things were made for them by the angels among whom they were now to live. For, being altogether innocent, the two who were thus new come could not create things for themselves — they could only enjoy. For as Adam had first to fall before he could labor with his hands, so even angels must first have sinned in the flesh before they can make for themselves a paradise of beauty and joy in the spirit.
At first all the glory and the splendor bewildered and blinded the two, but by and by they grew more used to it. After a little while it became altogether their life — for in this it is with angels as it is with men, that they grow used to the glories of heaven.
Nevertheless, they had not been sent to heaven to enjoy, but to be of use.
There were nine judges and ministers in that heaven, and through them came wisdom and knowledge. These nine angels were the purest and the most innocent of all in that city. So it was that the wisdom and knowledge that enlightened that heaven was derived from them. Every morning about the seventh hour they would come to a garden where Daihas and Aiha walked, and would there question the two as to the judgments of the day, and so confirm their own wisdom. For, being in the light of innocence, the two immaculate ones derived their wisdom the most directly from the Fountain of Life itself. The light and the splendor of that heaven had never been so great as when these two dwelt there.
Such was the use that they performed, and for it they had been especially prepared.
* * * * *
So for seven years the two that were one angel lived in a perfect and supernal happiness, a happiness as much beyond that of their former state of existence as that state was beyond the happiness of the life of the world of flesh.
Then one day, in the freshness of the morning, Daihas walked in the dewy garden under the trees. There were thousands and thousands of birds in the garden, and now, in the coolness and hush of the early day, they were singing with a multitudinous medley of voices. All the bright and dazzling air seemed filled with the dulcet and bewildering jubilee. The ear thrilled and the heart quivered at their loud and joyful singing. In the midst of the vibrating and tumultuous solitude Daihas stood with his eyes raised, listening in intense, rapturous silence. Wave after wave of poignant bliss swept into his heart, and with each recurring wave of rapture the noise of the singing was more loud and more jubilant. The joy made its own delight and the delight gave birth to a keener and more piercing joy.
As he stood so, rapt and ecstatic, he suddenly saw a flickering of a bright dress from between the flowers. It was Aiha coming swiftly and graciously toward him. At the sight of her coming the final and most poignant thrill of delight leaped into his quivering heart and overfilled it. The chord keyed too keenly may snap with the strain.
II.
EVIL.
Suddenly something came between the eyes of Daihas and the things that he saw. It was a certain purple cloud like a vertigo.
Of what use was all this joy, all this beauty, all this rapture and bliss unspeakable?
The cloud passed away as suddenly as it had come and he saw Aiha standing beside him. He caught her quickly and firmly, holding her hand tightly within his own. “Aiha,” said he, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears.
“What is it?” said she, looking up at him. A faint shadow, almost like fear, passed for a moment over her face.
“Aiha,” said he, “must this last forever?”
“I do not know, Daihas,” she replied.
Then the thought passed away from them both as the final films of a cloud might pass away before the sun, and all was as bright and as beautiful and as shining as it had been before.
Then in a little while the judges and the elders came into the garden to talk with the two concerning the judgments that were to be delivered during the day.
Daihas saw them coming, as he had seen his wife come, through the flowers in the garden. The bright clothes they wore shimmered, and their jewelled insignia of office sparkled and blazed in the radiance of the sun. Then, as it had happened a little while before, so it happened now. A purple cloud like a vertigo spread before his eyes, only this time the cloud was blacker and more impenetrable than it had been before.
Shall perfect happiness last forever? If so, who could abide in such a state? Bliss might be bearable for a day, for a month, for a year, even for seven years, perhaps, but what man could bear it forever? What damnation could be more awful than a perpetual ease? The very sweetness of rest is in the knowledge that one has been weary and will be weary again; the very blessing of perfect ease and happiness is the knowledge that one has suffered a pang and will some time suffer another. The joy of hopes to be fulfilled does not lie in the lifeless joy of fulfilment, but in looking toward fulfilment from a plane of unfulfilment.
* * * * *
The cloud passed away and Daihas looked around him. He drew a deep breath and felt that the inside of his mouth was dry. The nine judges stood about him. One of them stood beside him — an angel of the most perfect beauty and in the rosiest and fullest bloom of his everlasting youth. His hair was as yellow as gold and his face shone dazzling bright with the unspeakable joy and bliss of the heaven within him. Daihas turned and caught him by the arm. The shining silken sleeve crinkled under his grasp. “Tell me,” said he, as he had said to Aiha, “tell me — all this joy and bliss — is this to last forever?”
“Yes,” said the angel, “forever.”
Daihas looked the angel in the eyes, and it seemed to him that a dusky pallor, just for one brief instant, clouded the radiance of the shining face. Then the cloud was gone and the sun shone as bright as ever — only now the birds had all stopped singing.
* * * * *
Between heaven and hell — so it is to those who regard heaven and hell as separate things — there stretches the plane of that which is called the natural. Should anything from hell penetrate through that plane, all the heaven corresponding becomes infected with something that is attainted.
That day it was known that something (it was thought to be an evil spirit) had penetrated through that plane of life and had entered into the lower regions to which the heaven where they all lived belonged. Daihas was the first soul that had been clouded; there were others who also suffered from the infection. Then all of heaven felt the taint. A dusky shadow, like the faintest breath of smoke, was seen to dim the arch of cerulean blue above. It dimmed faintl
y even the steadfast brightness of the sun, that shines forever midway to the eastward in that tranquil, radiant sky.
All the angels of that celestial city were called together into the hall of judgment where the judges and elders sat. It was proclaimed that the evil spirit must be cast out. Six angels were chosen for this task and first among them was Daihas. He was chosen because it was thought that (being so immaculate) no evil could adhere to him in a conflict with sin.
He left Aiha at the golden gate of their garden. She stood looking after him as he joined the five other young angels and went away with them.
They left the city by the Gate of Pearls. A great crowd of angels followed them to the wall and there stood watching as the six descended and until they were out of sight and gone.
Each angel wore the shining dress of angelhood. Each wore also a frontlet of gold set with jewels. It was strapped about his head and tight to his forehead. Each wore a breastplate that shone and sparkled with dazzling points of light. None of the six spoke. They walked onward in a body, the stillness broken only by the sound of their footsteps and now and then by the sharp ringing of a breastplate.
As they departed lower and lower the city was left far behind. Then it was lost as in a mist. Then they were descending a hill, without trees but covered with grass. The air lost its adamantine brilliancy; the sun grew more and more clouded and red, as though it shone through a veil of smoke.
It grew darker and still darker. The grass became more sparse and poor. There were stony places.
They came to a place of marshes. Now and then a frightened wild bird sprang almost from under their feet with a shrill whistle and flickered swiftly, pallidly off through the increasing dusk.
It began to grow briery and brambly.
The six angels with the frontlets between their eyes and the breastplates upon their breasts brought with them the light of heaven in which they lived. As it grew darker and darker, their radiance shone around them in the dusk, like a misty halo. It travelled onward with them, shining, a circle of golden light, upon the sparse grass and the rounded and jagged stones and the briers and brambles. The halo of light moved steadily downward as they descended.
Then the grass ceased and they came in their descent to a place where there was nothing but rocks and thistles and stunted thorns.
By and by even the thistles and thorns ceased and there were rocks alone.
It was now like the early shadows of night, though the sun still shone redly with a light as red as blood. But still the glory of heaven followed the angels and descended with them. The big rough rocks shone yellow as they passed and the black shadows went sliding away behind them. There was no soil among the rocks but only rounded stones, and then they knew that they had nearly reached the end of their journey.
At last they came to a flat ledge of rock, and from the edge of it they looked down and saw the being that they had come to find lying over beyond them.
They saw that there was a great chasm between him and them. They could not see the bottom of the chasm, for it was lost in the thick black shadows below. They did not know how to approach nearer to him. They stood and looked across this chasm at him. They stood as in a shadow. A light, as though from a sun upon the other side, shone luridly upon the rock. He was lying stretched out upon the rock basking in the light. The light of the sun was red like that of the light of a fire of coals, and in the warmth of it he lay stretched out as though it were in the warmth of a fire. He was nearly naked; his hair and beard were red; his arms and his breasts and his legs as high as the thighs were covered with short red hair. The rock was red, and in the red light of the sun the evil one looked so like a part of it that some of the angels could not at first distinguish him from the rugged face of the stone until he moved one of his arms in his sleep. Then he awoke. Perhaps it was the radiance from the six angels shining upon him that awakened him. They suddenly saw the bright yellow light that shone from them glisten upon his eyeballs and then they knew that he had unclosed his eyelids. He raised himself on his elbow and for a moment or two rested so, staring at them. “Who are you?” called he at last, and his voice came deep from his chest. It was not unmusical in tone.
The foremost of the six called back to him in a clear voice that rang, “We are angels and we have come to cast you out.”
The evil one sat up. He laughed. His teeth shone. “What,” he cried, “six angels of light come to cast out one poor devil of darkness? Then I am glad that we are parted by the chasm, for how else could one stand against six? But tell me how you are going to cast me out since you cannot cross the chasm? How can you reach me to cast me out?”
“We do not know; but we are sent from heaven to cast you out, and you shall be cast out.”
“If you are sent from heaven show me a sign, and if the sign is true then I will know for truth that you are angels from on high and that you are able to cast me out, even though we be parted by the chasm.”
The six angels looked at one another and each said, “Can you show a sign?” One of the angels said, “Yes, I can show him a sign.” He called out to the evil spirit: “Look, I will show you the image of yourself.”
* * * * *
THE VISION.
There appeared a small church built of brick. It was stained and mildewed, and was covered partly with moss and partly with clinging ivy. There was no bell in the belfry and part of the roof had fallen in. They went in at the door of the church and saw that it was paved with flagstones and that the rain had entered through the broken roof so that there was green moss and mildew at the further end. They passed through the church and entered into the vault beneath, where there was an aisle between two rows of coffins. Some of the coffins were of lead, some of wood, mouldering and falling to pieces at the joints. They passed down the aisle and at the further end came to a door. The door led into a mill. The stones were grinding and the whole place shook and trembled with their jarring. The mill smelled sweetly of newly ground flour. The air was filled with the white dust and the windows were coated with dust so that the sunlight could not penetrate them.
They passed through the mill and came out into a kitchen where a candle burned upon a table and a red light from a fire of coals shone on the walls and ceiling. The kitchen was full of the smell of burned fat. There were two women and a dog in the kitchen.
Then they were not permitted to see anything more, for here the vision came to an end.
* * * * *
The evil spirit had not moved from where he sat on the rock, and when the vision came to an end he laughed. “It was not a beautiful vision,” he called across the chasm, “but at any rate the two women and the dog were alive.” Then he pointed his horny, dirty finger to Daihas. “It is my turn to show a vision now,” said he, “and I will show you all a vision of that young angel there.”
* * * * *
THE VISION.
There appeared a light of such dazzling radiance that it was like the light of heaven, though it was not of celestial origin. The light shone on a great expanse of plane, though whether the plane was of fine white dust or of white ashes could not be told unless it were taken into the hand and tasted. In all the plane there was not a single blade of grass or any green thing, nor any sign of life — not even the sign of an insect in the dust. In the centre of the plane was a block of basalt, but it could not at first be seen what it was that lay upon it, for the light was very blinding and that which lay there was thin and horny — white and semi-transparent, like the shell out of which a live insect has come. Then it could be seen that it had a perfect form, but no substance. Then, by and by, and with a great effort, it could be seen that it was a perfect image of a man. At last it could be seen that it was an image of Daihas. The image was exactly like him, to every fold, to every thread, to every hair of the head. But it was only a shell, and there was no life of any kind in it, only a faint phosphorescent light without any heat. The pressure of a finger would have crushed the shell together into a shapeless heap.
* * * * *
Then the vision came to an end and the angels cried out aloud — all except Daihas. He was silent, his face was pale and he trembled. The cry of the angels was somewhat discordant, for, from the two visions, they saw that they, being angels of light, could not cast out this thing — that the creature was not an evil spirit, but a devil. Then they cried out again, and their voices were shrill. Then one of them called aloud upon Michael and thereupon the others joined with him, crying: “Michael! Michael! Michael!”
Then there came a sudden light in the gloom overhead, and the angels and the devil looked up to the smoky sky above. They saw the appearance of a blazing meteor falling out of the sky. It left a trail of light behind it. The light from the meteor shone upon the dark faces of the rocks in the gloom of these lower parts, and swift, sliding lights and flying shadows flew upward as it fell.
The meteor fell upon a high pinnacle of rock just above where the angels stood, and they saw that it was the Archangel Michael! He held a spark of flaming fire in his hand. The fire was like a red star.
“Why do you sit there?” he called to the devil across the chasm. The voice of Michael was clear, like a bell. It rang and echoed through the dark and hollow vault above him.
“I am doing nothing but lying in the sun to warm myself,” said the devil.
“You cannot stay there,” called out Michael. “You do not belong there and your breath infects heaven. You must descend to where you belong.”
“I shall not go back,” cried the devil, “for I like it here.”
Then Michael raised his hand and threw the spark of flaming fire across the gulf like a dart. It struck the devil in the very middle of his hairy breast. When the devil felt the smart of the fire he bellowed and gnashed his teeth. He strove to pluck the spark of fire away, but it clung to his shaggy bosom and he could not free himself of it. He screamed. From the clinging fire a fiery circle ran and spread all over his body, like the sparks in burned and charred paper. He ran shrieking up and down his narrow ledge of rock like a vermin in a trap, but the chasm was on all sides of him and he could not escape. A flame of fire burst from his mouth and nostrils. Then he gave a great, shrill and terrible cry and ran to the edge of the rock and leaped over into the chasm. They who looked saw him fall, whirling round and round like a burning brand, lighting up the sides of the gulf as he fell, until at last he was swallowed in the darkness. Then everything was as silent as death.