Angels and Women (1924)
Download: PDF — Angels and Women (1924)
ANGELS
AND
WOMEN
A Revision of the Unique Novel Seola by Mrs. J. G. Smith
Published by
A. B. ABAC COMPANY
NEW YORK
Firrl Revised Edition Jnnt, 1924
Printti In the United Stith of Atufict
COMPOSITION. PLATINO PRESSWORK. BINDING BY W. S. CONKCY COMPANY HAMMOND • INDIANA
FOREWORD
TRITE but true is the saying, "Truth is stranger than fiction.” Fiction sometimes illuminates the truth.
A number of years ago Mrs. J. G. Smith published a novel entitled Seola. She claims to have been impelled to write it after listening to beautiful music. She made no pretense of a knowledge of the Bible. Yet many of her sayings are so thoroughly in accord with the correct understanding of certain scriptures that the novel is exceedingly interesting and sometimes thrilling.
The greatest Bible scholar of modem times read this book shortly before his death. To a close personal friend he said: “This book, if revised according to the facts we now know concerning spiritism, would be instructive and helpful.” Long prior thereto this noted Bible scholar had written and published the first clear exposition of the Bible teaching on spiritism. He advised his personal friend to revise the novel Seola and to publish it if opportunity was afforded at some future time.
This book deals with the events transpiring between the date of the creation of man and the great deluge. The principal characters figuring in the novel are Satan, fallen angels and women. Angels are heavenly messengers. There was a time when all angels were good. The time came when many of them allied themselves with Satan and became evil, hence called “fallen angels.” Woman possesses finer sensibilities than man. She is more susceptible to seductive influences. Satan and his allies have taken advantage of this fact in overreaching woman and through woman overreaching man. Holy angels are the exemplification of gooa. Good women are blessed creatures. Evil spirit beings started good human beings on the downward road. Evil angels and bad women have made countless millions mourn.
The Bible story of fallen angels or evil spirits is briefly told as follows:
Lucifer, once a good spirit being, of great knowledge and authority, in order to satisfy his ambitious desire for greater authority, deceived Eve, the first woman, causing her to sin. Adam, the first man, joined her in the transgression. The sentence of death and expulsion from Eden resulted. Nine hundred and thirty years were employed in executing that death sentence. During that time there was born to Adam and Eve a number of children. Sixteen hundred years later, among these descendants of Adam and Eve, were Noah and his family.
Lucifer, now degraded, was named by Jehovah the Dragon, that old Serpent, Satan the Devil. God had permitted the angels, prior to the flood, to have supervision of the peoples of earth. (Hebrews 2:3.) These angels had power to materialize in human form and mingle amongst the human race. Satan seduced many of these angels and caused them to become wicked or fallen ones. They in turn debauched the women descendants of Adam. The materialized angels, called “sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all whicn they chose.” (Genesis 6:2.) A mongrel race resulted from these fallen angels with the offspring of Adam. These filled the earth with wickedness and violence. Their wickedness became so great that the Lord Jehovah brought upon the world the great deluge that destroyed all of this mongrel race.
The sons of God who succumbed to the temptations and thus became the fallen angels are alluded to as “Devas" in this book; their offspring as "Darvands.”
' The fallen angels or evil spirits were not destroyed in the flood, but imprisoned in the darkness of the atmosphere near the earth. Upon this point the inspired words of holy writ are: "For God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.” (2 Peter 2:4.) "And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day.” (Jude 6.)
Since the flood these evil angels have had no power to materialize, yet they have had the power and exercised it, of communicating with human beings through willing dupes known as spirit mediums. Thus have been deceived hundreds of thousands of honest people into believing that their dead friends are alive and that the living can talk with the dead.
All students, familiar with the Bible teaching concerning spiritism, will read this book with the keenest interest because it shows the method employed by Satan and the wicked angels to debauch and overthrow the human race. The reviser of this book is of the opinion that the original manuscript was dictated to the woman who wrote it by one of the fallen angels who desired to return to divine favor. It is believed that reverential persons now examining the revised edition of this book will have a better understanding of the evil influence about us and be better fortified in the Lord’s word and grace to shield and protect themselves from these evil influences. ,
Spiritism, otherwise named demonism, is working great evil amongst men. It should be studiously avoided. To be forewarned is to be forearmed. Hence this publication.
[ blank ]
FINDING THE MANUSCRIPT
North Syrian Mts, May 23, 19—.
THIS month must be marked in white; it is the date of a wonderful discovery.
Toiling along the steeps of the Anti-Libanus, on our way to Jahrada, we halted for the midday repast and, while the guides were preparing it, reclined in the shade of the scanty foliage. As we leisurely surveyed the sterile landscape, our attention was attracted to an object quite unexpected in this desert place, a flower of surprising beauty, which hung from a broad shelf of rock opposite.
Edmund sprang forward to gather the wonderful blossom, and upon reaching the perilous steep to sustain himself laid hold of the root of a decayed tree which had once grown there. His weight had scarce been thus suspended when the stump gave way and slid down, carrying with it the earth in which it had been imbedded, a portion of the rock and the rash intruder who had dared disturb its venerable repose.
When reassured that no injury was sustained, we turned to examine the spot from whence the avalanche descended. Upon the perpendicular face of the rock, now fully exposed, was a clearly defined triangle about eight feet in altitude. A complicated figure sculptured in the center marked it the work of man. Speculation as to its character was cut short by Monsieur S——, who exclaimed: “That figure is the Phoenician Daleth! Plainly as would our language, it says: ’This is a door.* Ah, what lies behind?”
In great excitement we sent to the valley for aid; the triangular rock was removed, and proved to be the door of an artificial cave, about twelve feet square, cut in the mountain. The sides of this cave were smooth, the ceiling was arched, and in the center of the dome, among unknown sculptured characters, we perceived a cross of peculiar design.
Upon a marble slab slightly raised from the floor, a heap of dust, tattered fibre, and shreds of gold outlined two human figures lying in the set repose of the dead. Diadems that once crowned the heads of the sleepers had fallen to the floor, and by the side of one of the forms, where the hand had been, was a cylindrical object which we immediately secured.
Then the leader of our party spoke:
"No doubt this is one of the oldest tombs in the world. The inscriptions must antedate even those of the subterranean temples of Ellora and Elephanta. But why should we with irreverent hand disturb these venerable ashes? Let them repose, as we ourselves hope to rest till called forth in the awakening.”1
Without further words he ordered the door to be carefully replaced, and we left
*See Appendix, Note 1.
the shelving rock where again the dust of years will gather, other seeds germinate and shoot upwards, and again a leafy veil shimmering in the wind will shut out from human eyes the mysterious Daleth of old Syria.
The relic thus obtained (doubly precious now that further spoliation was forbidden) proved to be a cylinder of purple amethyst about a foot in length and three inches in diameter. Upon one side, engraved with extraordinary delicacy, was the representation of a terrible flood, and upon the other a tree, under whose widespread branches were sitting a noble-looking man and woman with young persons grouped around them. Beneath each figure were detached inscriptions.
In removing the dust from the crystal a spring was touched, and the cylinder opened, disclosing a linen roll like those of Egypt (though incomparably finer), covered with minute characters which, under the rays of the sun, became intensely blue.
It occurred to one of our number, an enthusiastic archeologist, that this was a memorial of the great Deluge; the man might represent Japheth, the son of Noah, who, according to the Hebrew Scriptures, was the father of seven sons; the woman was his wife and the other female figures his daughters.
Upon this supposition we applied ourselves assiduously and, after the most exhaustive comparison and combination, found that the names of the men correspond with those given in the tenth chapter of Genesis; the mother’s name proved to be Aloma, those of the daughters Samoula, Altitia, Apardis, Loamba and Jardel.
The mystery was unraveled, and we found ourselves in possession of the greatest archeological discovery of the twentieth century—an antediluvian memoir, The Journal of Aloma, wife of the patriarch Japheth!
Foreseeing the perishable nature of the precious document, travel was suspended, and the energies of the entire party were devoted to the work of deciphering. Under the supervision of our learned archeologist good progress was made, though, in our haste and ignorance, great freedom of translation was unavoidable, and frequently our insight into obscure passages was scarcely more than conjecture.
It was fortunate that no delay was suffered; the delicate characters rapidly faded in the light; the tissue, hermetically sealed for so many ages, had lost its tenacity; day by day it became disintegrated in the unaccustomed atmosphere, and almost before the last pages were finished it crumbled to powder.
The beautiful but frail casket in which it had been preserved was accidentally shivered and, but for the story which had so marvelously come into our possession, the adventure in the Syrian mountains might have vanished from memory like a dream of the morning.
CHILD OF THE HERMITAGE
Bank of the Euphrates, First Moon—Evening.
After Adam, Four Cycler.
THIS day completes another year of my life; its events have made me unusually thoughtful.
Immediately after the morning sacrifice Allimades called me to the garden. His countenance, always serious, was even sad as we sat down under our favorite cypresstree.
“Aloma, my daughter,” he said, “you are no longer a child; maturing years and experience will bring to you, as to every human being, care, perplexity and sorrow. Your brother, who would have been a companion and protector, is dead; I buried him at Balonia. You are alone.
“Shut out from the world in this impenetrable forest, your life will be eventless, occupied by the routine of labor and religious duty; God grant you a tranquil mind.
Fortunately you inherit my fondness for study. Having been carefully instructed in the wisdom of the sages, you will find comfort when your household duties are over, among the manuscripts of ancient lore and relics of other days which I have preserved for this purpose; but lest you should have many restless hours, and sigh for that companionship which you will never find, I earnestly advise you to commence a journal of your life, a record of the circumstances of each day and of your mental experience. This will be a diversion, and vary the monotony of your sequestered life. I have many things to communicate but not on this day, the anniversary of my marriage and of our departure from Balonia, as also of your birth.”
With this he rose and retired into the shadow of the grove. His lightest wish is law with me—my wise and pious father— so this evening I took from the library a reed, linen roll, and an amethyst cylinder, his birthday gifts, and have come to my arbor study to begin the journal. Without doubt it will be a dull affair; fortunately no stranger eye will ever rest upon it.
What have I to record ? The mists1 or fair weather, the quality of the harvest, our success or failure in dyeing and weaving, the increase of the flocks, an occasional alarm from wild beasts. Yet I am always happy; the garden abounds in fruit and flowers; we have many cattle; we ride, pleasant evenings, in a boat upon the river; at other times we listen to stories from father, or to mother’s songs. “We” means, besides myself, Cheros and Aldeth, our servants. They came to this place with my parents before I was bom, and are now getting aged. Cheros must soon depart. Aldeth is not so old as her husband, and will live, I trust, a long time.
There is but one thing to trouble me: mother is often unhappy and weeps. At
such times father is stern and sad, Aldeth sighs, they chide my youthful gayety, and I am oppressed with gloom.
These moods of my parents are mysterious, connected, I imagine, with the remembrance of their former life, but I have never presumed to question them. Today I accidentally received an intimation confirming this supposition, but still I am perplexed. While tying the vines beneath my mother’s window, I heard her say (forgetting perhaps, that I was near)—
"This is Aloma’s birthday; how beautiful she is growing!”
I was greatly surprised, but still more so when my father groaned and answered: “Would to God she were deformed! Woman, why art thou made so fair! O fatal, fatal gift of beauty! but for it how lovely and pure thou art! The earth would not now be the theatre of unimaginable sin, nor would Satanas1 and his wicked peers control the affairs of men; these deceitful beings1 would not crush under their feet the hearts and hopes of mankind, nor you my wife, and I, your most unhappy husband, be exiled to this lonely hermitage. And another grief is added to our overburdened hearts: our child, now attaining womanhood, possesses the fatal heritage I Would to God she had died in your arms, as did her young brother.”
By this time my mother was sobbing and, frightened by the violence of her grief, I silently withdrew, much agitated.
What can it mean? Why should not men and women be beautiful as the birds and flowers ? Are they not all so ? Alas 11 have seen none but those of my own family.
I once read in an old manuscript of festivals, wars, travels, and marriages; perhaps these are connected with the misery of which my father spoke. I will ask him some day when he is instructing me.
Ha!—a serpent glanced across my feet so quickly I scarce saw him. He too was beautiful but filled me with terror. Will he seek the dove’s nest! I must follow ....
O, my dear birds 1 The father and mother are gone; one little white trembler remains alone. But I have taken thee as my special care, pretty dove; the serpent shall do thee no harm. These venomous beasts always come forth in the night; we must leave this place and retire to my chamber where we shall be safe.
No—I will stay, and repeat solemnly, "God alone is Almighty. Depart, Evil One!" That will be a protection.
How lovely is the grove in the twilight! The palms wave in the soft wind; the flowers exhale their odors; the insects chirp lazily; the birds are silent; the Euphrates sparkles in the fading light.
The river (now that I think of it) appears unreal tonight, not placid and calm, but agitated, and swelling upward; like a voice it seems to say: "Coming, coming.”
What is coming, old river? Nothing, I suppose, to Aloma who will perchance tread these lonely banks for hundreds of monotonous years.
The power of the name of God hath wrought; the serpent cometh not; but it is growing dark; now must we go within. O glorious golden hours! O smiling yellow moon, which I watch as through a silken veil! O bower and grove and river—dear silent friends, do you not give me joy of another birthday? True, I am no longer a child, yet I love you none the less; with you I am always happy. Good night 1
ALLIMADES’ STORY
Stcond Moon—First Day.
A MONTH has passed since I began my journal; nothing has happened worth recording until today when I found an opportunity to question my father. Mother went early with Aldeth to gather grapes for drying, and I had my tasks as usual in the cypress grove. When they were finished, knowing that candor would be most acceptable, I said: “O my father, on my birthday by chance I heard a conversation between yourself and mother, in which you spoke of beauty as a dangerous gift, as being the cause of a dreadful condition of the world, and of your own unhappiness. Would you kindly tell me the meaning of your words ?”
An expression of deep pain crossed his features as he replied: "Perhaps the time has now come, my daughter, when it is proper to tell you what must sooner or later cer-20
tainly be brought to your knowledge. It is a strange and mournful story in which there is but one light to relieve the deep shadows of sin and sorrow.
"Know, then, Aloma, that after our first parents, Adam and Eve, admitted the Deceiver to their counsels and had been driven from their happy home, sin and death became the unavoidable and dread attendants of human life. But more fatal than all other miseries of the Fall was the power of interference in human affairs which the Tempter had acquired. He constantly used and, from his evil nature, abused this power, slowly gaining possession of the hearts of men, till, grown bold by success, he enticed other Star-spirits1 from their allegiance to the Almighty, promising to establish them as great princes in the world.
“By some subtle process of which our most learned sages are ignorant, these angels changed themselves into the likeness of men, grand, strong and beautiful. These majestic beings became enamored with the beauty of women and took to themselves many wives. A race of magnificent but frightfully depraved creatures, giants in intellect and stature, were the products of these unnatural marriages, and they, with despotic cruelty, aided their sires in the subversion of the world. The story of the crimes and abominations which prevailed would be too shocking for your ears. The worshipers of God struggled in vain to stem the tide of diabolical iniquity. Those who resisted the imperious will of these Devas or the Darvands1 their children, were disabled or put to death.
“Satanas, the most powerful of the incarnate angels, established his court at Balonia, City of the Sun, where the learning and wealth of the world were concentrated. Upon this city he lavished his immense resources. Its glory was past description; its towers, palaces, and battlements glittered with gold and gems; its pomp and pageantry excelled everything previously known. But while feasting and seraphic music filled the royal saloons, deeds of awful violence made the subterranean vaults to shudder. Yet glory be to the All-Powerful, for the fulfillment of the decrees, Lamech and Alladis, my parents, were preserved, and near this city of supreme glory and guilt I was reared in the ways of righteousness. Being devoted to the acquisition of learning, I was spoken of as 'Allimades, the Sage of Balonia F
"I had one brother; his name was Noah. I know not if he still lives. He was upright and courageous, and being gifted with extraordinary powers of oratory, he fearlessly denounced the foul living of the Evil Ones, and called upon God for deliverance. How often have I listened with awe, when like a torrent his sublime words were poured out in warning, and have trembled with fear of the Devas’ vengeance. But he seemed to bear a charmed life; his hearers were spellbound while he was addressing them, and all plots for his assassination failed. I know now that God set a hedge about him.
“Our parents died early and we, with our few servants, were left in the world sole worshipers of the true God. To dispel his grief, my brother journeyed to a distant country in the North and there, high among the dark stony mountains, where bleak winds destroy all but a scanty vegetation, he found a noble family who had retreated thither to escape the wickedness of the world. After many months’ sojourn the oldest daughter was given him in marriage, and he returned to Balonia, bringing with his wife a young girl whose parents had died in that distant land. She was a lovely child, and with advancing years grew into the perfection of womanhood. Her name was Samoula.
“Noah’s heart was comforted, and I still found consolation in studying works of a purer age.
“Soon after this change in our family a shocking event occurred in the city, which drew from my impetuous brother a violent expression of indignation. Fearing that he might fall a victim to his rashness, notwithstanding his former deliverance, I expostulated with him, but he gave no heed to my caution.
“One evening, after he had with unusual eloquence addressed a great assemblage, I remained upon the mountain and conversed with him till the pale moon rose over the marble city. I spoke of the desperate condition of the world, its entire subversion by the Evil Ones. For myself I feared nothing, my unobtrusive life exempted me from suspicion or attack; but I portrayed his danger, and besought him by the love he bore his young bride and me, his only brother, to be more moderate in his attempts at reformation. I took his hand, and well I remember my closing words:
“‘O my brother, I believe as firmly as yourself that God is more powerful than
Satanas; but what years have rolled away since the giant offspring of these execrable marriages have defiled the earth with unnatural crime 1 We are powerless, dear brother; God has forgotten the world 1’
“He was so long silent that I looked up in alarm, for the hand which I held in mine had grown stony cold. In the gathering gloom I saw his face beam with a heavenly radiance. His eyes, dilated by strange emotion, were fixed upon the northern sky; his hand was raised, the whole attitude that of rigid attention, as if he were trying to catch some distant sound. He was evidently unconscious of my presence, and though much alarmed, I dared not disturb him. After remaining in this rapt posture a few moments, he sighed heavily, his hands fell, his head was bowed, and he whispered, ‘Even so, O God most mighty!’
“Presently, turning toward me, he said, without any allusion to our previous discourse, ‘Allimades, thrice the voice has spoken, and I know that the vision is true. Heard you aught, my brother?’ And with awe I answered, ‘Nay!’ He continued: ‘There is tumult in the North, the region of the mighty winds. At first like the tremor of leaves in a breeze, it increases to a gale, it crashes like a tornado; the thunder bellows, the earth quakes, the sea roars, its waters surge and swell, an awful night with blackest tempest enshrouds the world. But, above the crash and convulsion of the elements I hear a Voice, clear and low, though so terrible—it is the voice of God. I know not the words, but the same meaning always is given: “The end of all flesh is come; for the earth is filled with violence through them. Behold, I will destroy them with everything upon the earth. But with thee will I establish My covenant, and will save thee and thy family. Build a boat, wide and commodious; it shall be thy refuge when the floods of water overwhelm the guilty world.”
“ 'I am called, my brother, and must do a prophet’s work. Over me the Evil Ones have no power; God hath appointed bounds which they cannot pass. But you are in danger; you must fly, though not alone, lest grief and solitude consume you. Take for your wife the beautiful Samoula, who has long loved you well/
“I answered: ‘This revelation astonishes me; I know that you are indeed a prophet. The hour of doom approaches. God has not forgotten the world. I am agitated and confused ; my course does not seem clear, but I will seriously consider your words.’
“As we silently descended the mountain, the hum of the illuminated city came wafted toward us with a new and mournful significance, and, absorbed each in his own thoughts, we sought our quiet home.
“I was married to Samoula, and was happy in her love, but I did not fly. I lingered near Balonia where, in the great repositories, I could so conveniently continue my favorite pursuits. Here your brother was born and died; his infant form reposes in a cave of the mountain.
“A few years I remained unmolested, for I passed in and out of the city by the most unfrequented streets, and never interfered in its affairs. I completed the copy of many valuable works, particularly those of Seth, and hopefully drifted along the stream of time.
“But upon a certain evening, when Samoula came near the environs of the city to accompany me in the homeward walk, a crowd of Darvands and men followed us, discussing her beauty in a way which aroused my quiet nature to furious wrath. ‘Honor to the great serpent!’ said one, ‘we have found the queen of love.’ ‘What fair flesh and perfect bloom! My royal father shall have a gift at my hands,’ said a towering Darvand. ‘Not so fast, my brother,’ answered still another giant; ‘I have a better plan.’
“Terrified and enraged, I fled as fast as I could drag the half-fainting Samoula. Darkness was rapidly coming on, and hoping to elude our pursuers, I doubled the narrow path through winding ways; for well I knew if we approached our home directly, fire and steel would in a few moments finish their wicked designs. As the darkness increased, one and another of the men became discouraged and turned back, till the last pursuer disappeared.
“Trembling and exhausted, we reached the dwelling, where, to our surprise, my brother awaited us. With the aid of our servants, he administered to our necessities, and when we were sufficiently restored to look calmly at our perilous position, he spoke. ‘You remember, my brother, the evening of the third vision, when we sat together upon Mount Hermon, I warned yott that you must fly. My words were prophetic. Too long have you lingered near Balonia; a few hours only are left for your escape.
" ‘Satanas is already informed of the exceeding beauty of Samoula; for among women there is none so fair. With tomorrow’s dawn his emissaries are to begin the search, which, if you remain, will terminate with your death, and the transfer of Samoula to the royal palace. Arise, and depart hence. Haste, look not back till you reach the Hermitage on the banks of the Upper Euphrates, known only to us and our father. There, in the seclusion of the vast forest, you must hide from all eyes save those of the Omniscient.’
"There was no further delay. Our household stores were loaded upon the beasts of burden, Samoula and Aldeth placed upon the camels, and driving a small herd of cattle, we soon passed a defile in the mountain which shut the city forever from our gaze. Here my brother, who had thus far accompanied us on a fleet horse, dismounted, and embracing me, with many tears, bade me a last farewell. 'We shall meet no more in
this world/ said Noah. ‘I see before me a black and yawning gulf, but I have no fear, though the earth be swallowed up and the heavens consumed. We shall meet again in peace. Allimades, thou and I alone are left, worshipers of God; He will not forget us.*
“Then giving me the rein of his fleet steed, he motioned that I should mount and press onward, and from that moment I saw him no more.’’ Here my father paused and gave himself up for a few moments to absorbing melancholy. He then resumed:
“Before dawn we were several leagues from Balonia, but rested not until we had entered the dense forest that skirts for six days* journey the western shore of the upper river. We there refreshed ourselves, and offered the sacrifice of a young heifer.
“Having received the token of acceptance by fire from heaven, consuming the sacrificial offering, we on the following day resumed our journey with more courage, plunging deeper into the forest, and after four days’ journey we reached the Hermitage, which Lamech had prepared in the hour of inspiration.
“Here we lived in safety; our garden has flourished like Eden of old; the flocks and herds have increased; and you, my beloved child, our most precious possession, were sent to cheer the solitude. In calm tranquillity have I passed the rolling years, giving you counsel or instruction, and increasing that treasury of ancient lore hitherto concealed from your innocent eyes, but which you may now peruse with advantage. Therein is contained the record of families and nations, with many a story from the lives of those who have preceded us in this world of hope and fear, of pain and pleasure. You will there also find a description of the great kingdom of Satanas (to which God grant you may ever remain a stranger), and of other people and of countries in distant parts of the earth, where safe from the Evil Ones, we might have hoped to dwell, but for the stern injunctions of the prophet that we must remain concealed; discoverywill be fatal.
“I am content, but your mother, now that you are grown and do not require her maternal care, is often unhappy. She feels vaguely the loss of that life in which she is fitted to shine, and where she would have been the admiration of all eyes. I observe her growing uneasiness with extreme anxiety. I know not what it portends. Guard your own heart, and assist me, my dear child, to divert your mother, lest an evil thought should enter her mind.”
THE DISCOVERY
At this moment my mother appeared coming down the avenue. She was flushed with labor, and as she slowly moved forward I, for the first time, realized her exceeding loveliness. She was now in the full maturity of her charms, and of perfectly developed proportions. Her large blue eyes drooped with a sad expression; her features were of faultless symmetry; her bosom, shoulders, and arms beautifully rounded; and her color faint and delicate as that of the shells we sometimes find in the drift of the river; but the crowning glory of her stately figure was the wonderful hair. It was of a light golden color, and if extended to its full length, swept to her feet, and enwrapped her form. It hung in heavy waves, curling at the ends, and when for convenience she coiled it at the back of her head, it fell from her shoulders likes the plumes of a bird.
How graceful was her step, how firm and free! My father, with admiration and love in his eyes, arose and led her to a seat by his side. "How fares the grape-harvest, Samoula?” said he. "My lord,” she replied, “the light shone into the vineyard too warmly and I left the place to be sheltered by your side.” Allimades turned inquiringly, for there was more in her words than met the ear. He was about to give utterance to some thought that oppressed him when a sudden flash and illumination which dazzled us and took our breath, checked his reply.
Glancing upward, we beheld directly overhead, in an opening between the cypress-tops, some object passing swiftly, and heard a peculiar sound of exultation ring out above the forest. I looked at my father in amazed inquiry. His face was ashy pale; he trembled, and fixed an earnest gaze upon the canopy above. Breathless, he cried, “The Devas!” and then, with terror depicted in every lineament, drew us within his arms and hurried toward our home, round which interwoven boughs of gigantic trees and vines had formed a perfect screen. To the innermost chamber of this secluded dwelling we retreated, and making secure every avenue of approach, my father went out to confer with Cheros. After many hours he returned, looking pale and fatigued, but spoke with composure:
"From the earliest generation it has been considered a sacred duty that every human being should, once during life, make a pilgrimage to the site of ancient Eden, and in that place of saddest memory offer prayer and sacrifice. I fear I have incurred the displeasure of the Almighty by deferring this rite. Therefore, Samoula, do thou with the help of Aldeth and Aloma, prepare necessary food, also awnings to screen us from the heat of the day and the mists of night. Cheros and I will make ready the boat, and at daybreak tomorrow we will go forth upon the pilgrimage.”
The unusual excitement in our household and the anticipation of a journey make me almost wild with joy. I can scarce compose myself to write; but I must finish the journal, there will be so much to record after my return. Four days of travel through a strange country, the wonders of ruined Eden, perhaps the sight of human beings, ourselves unseen of them. Why should the others look serious? There comes a presentiment of change. The serpent crossed my feet—a bad omen. The river whispers, “Danger is coming!” I must beware.
CHANGE
Second Moon.
O TIME of grief and loss I O days and nights of woe! O dumb and lifeless hours! Is this the happy valley where my youth was passed? I seem aged now. The cypresses are black like funeral yews; their shade is darkness, and yet the light of day is hateful to my eyes, dim with weeping. O that I could find the grave! My mother mourns, but not with deep sorrow. In her soft eyes is no retrospective glance, but a gentle light like coming day.
How shall I recover the broken thread of my story? How make up the calendar of sorrow marked by the dial as ten suns only, but weighted with the woe of years? Yet this journal, lightly begun at the suggestion of my beloved father, must be continued as a sacred duty.
As we stepped upon the boat made ready 39 to receive us, Father and Cheros, with long poles, pushed from the shore and aided the wide-spread sail that propelled us slowly along. The great branch of the Euphrates which we were ascending, though now deserted and lonely, in far-gone years was lively with the boats of pilgrims to Eden, and heavy vessels bearing the products of other lands to the great cities on its shore; but the Wicked Ones who control the affairs of the world have desolated this plain, striving to obliterate from the memory of mankind every reminiscence of the lost Paradise!
I was too much occupied with the unaccustomed scene to find room for mournful thoughts. Only when my eyes fell upon the snow-white lamb resting by the green herbs provided for his food, and I observed the grave faces of my parents, did I remember the strange event of yesterday and realize the serious object of our journey. As the hours of this delightful day drew to a close, and the declining sun veiled in mist warned us of the necessity for repose, Father and Cheros warped the boat into a shady cove, and made it fast for the night. We lingered long over supper, spread upon the deck of our little vessel, and when it was finished, tired with the day’s journey, I lay down and fell asleep listening to the voices of my parents as they chanted the evening orison.
Before our boat was unmoored in the morning we went ashore to view the ruins of an ancient city, once famous for its magnificence and learning, now only a mound of ashes overgrown with a straggling forest. Seth, the founder of this city, was a great sage, the inventor of the characters used in writing. He caused two wonderful pillars to be erected upon which was inscribed the history of the world. These previous memorials of better days were destroyed by order of the Devas, but not until scribes of our family had copied some portions of the writings.
The scene grew wilder and more drear after we resumed our journey; the banks were tangled with luxuriant shrubs and vines; birds of brilliant plumage flitted among the trees; bright lizards and spotted serpents darted in and out or lay coiled around their trunks.
When night came ortand the journey drew to a close the river became narrower and tall trees, arching over our heads, made the way solemn and gloomy. We grew depressed and conversation died. As the red sun, like a subdued fire, sank out of sight behind the great forest, we approached a rock which rose in the middle of the river.
"Here,” said my father, "our journey terminates. Upon this rock, which parts the stream as it issued out of the Garden, once stood the vigilant angelic guard with sword of flame. Alas! the way of access to the Tree of Life was completely closed to a wicked world; but man will yet eat of its life-giving leaves in the Garden of God2 which is to be restored in the distant future, when God’s time shall have come.
“The cherub, though no longer visible, still continues to fulfill the high behests of the Eternal! Just beyond this frowning warder lies the gateway of a ruined Paradise. None dare attempt now to force an entrance, or to seek in its pure air the lost joys of innocence.
"Here we must offer our sacrifice, the last which will ever ascend from this place. I feel a melancholy pleasure in the thought. The future is dark to my vision; beyond tomorrow’s light stretches an impenetrable veil; the hand of God has lowered it and I have no fear.”
My father’s voice grew unreal, a far-off look came into his eyes; a sigh, such as had become habitual with him, heaved his bosom; unconscious of our presence, he whispered:
“Ah, my brother, does not the hour draw near?”
THE FORSAKEN EDEN
At early dawn we were astir with preparation for the solemn rite. Upon the rock was built an altar; the offerings were placed thereon. As I climbed the pathway to cover the sacrifice with lilies gathered at the water’s edge, the scene beyond filled me with astonishment.
A vast expanse lay stretched before us, bounded by mountains, rosy and purple in the morning light. Born in these far-off heights, fed by springs and rills, four great rivers, widening as they advanced, rolled through a broad extended plain. Here were calm lakes and valleys, and the verdure of meadow and grove. But no flocks reposed upon the grassy banks, nor cattle browsed the rank savannas, nor lion lifted his voice in the dark glen. No harvester reaped the nodding corn, or loaded with purple grapes the creaking wain. The crimson apples lay in heaps, the nuts dropped noiselessly on the sod, the empty stubble rustled in the wind, the untouched orange and fig, decaying on the ground, went back into the parent stem to bloom again and again in vernal beauty.
Sound there was none, but sighing of the winds as they swept mournfully across the lonely Eden; no motion save that of light and shadow flitting over tenantless plains. Silence and solitude forever brooded there. A belt of funeral yews, under-grown with a thicket of brush-thorns, hedged in this land of supernal but desolate beauty. Directly in front of the Warder’s Rock was a narrow opening bounded by two ancient yews of magnificent proportions; between these trees had sprung up a gigantic vine, whose wide-spread branches, twined and interwoven, made a vast impenetrable screen, closing the gate-way of the Garden of the Lord. The tangles of this deadly vine had formed themselves into spectral characters, which, facing outward, perennially renewed the inscription—
"SIN, DESPAIR, DEATH”
Through a mist of tears the last look of mortal eyes was now bestowed upon the forsaken beauty of the Lost Paradise.
OMENS
Turning toward the altar, my father lifted his voice in solemn confession and prayer. We then removed to the boat, and waited at a distance, repeating in the usual form of our oblation:
"Accept, most Holy God, the offering of thy sinful but repentant creatures, and give the gracious token by fire.”
A moment of breathless suspense, and the answer came—but in a manner which filled us with terror. A fearful rumbling like subterranean thunder was heard; the earth shuddered; the rock heaved and with a loud explosion burst asunder. Fierce flames and sulphurous vapors rushed upward from a yawning chasm, and downward from the heavens, swallowing the altar of sacrifice and the very rock upon which we had been standing a moment before. The waters of the river bubbled, hissed, and then fell back to the old channel, our boat surged and tossed in the terrible convulsion, and the pallor of fear overspread our faces.
We turned with anxious inquiry toward father. Upon his countenance, pale as our own, was no sign of doubt or alarm. His hands were folded upon his breast, his head was bowed in resignation, and he sighed, “I accept the decree. The will of the Most High be done.” Then, without further words, we hastened away from the scene of dire portent.
ALOMA RECEIVES THE GIFT OF PROPHECY.
The current was now in our favor; we shot rapidly down the river, the veiled sun rode high in the heaven, and when, for the third time since our departure from home, it sank 4
behind the western forest, we drew into the quiet cove where we had first landed. Tranquillity was in some measure restored as distance increased between ourselves and the appalling scenes of the morning, yet was the evening benediction of Allimades unusually earnest. Fatigued by the unwonted adventures of the day, all of the party, except myself, were soon wrapped in deep slumber. Cheros and Aldeth rested quietly under a palm-tree on shore, my parents reclined upon a platform raised under the tent-screen, and I lay upon a mat at their feet. The air was serene and I tranquilly rested, listening to the only sound that varied the intensity of silence—the ripple of the river as it lightly flowed past our boat.
Forgotten by the world, far from any human habitation, in the midst of a great wilderness, shrouded by the shadows of night, what cause was there for apprehension? Yet some unwonted agitation—a fear, or rather an expectation—rendered me for a long time wakeful, and I repeated again and again these words: “Enlighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death.” Presently my thoughts became confused, and I passed into the land of forgetfulness. Did any shadow of coming evil flit across my dreams ? Alas! it was the final hour of childhood, the last untroubled slumber which would seal my eyes; for before morning dawned, an event occurred which dispelled all careless fantasy, and changed forever the color and current of my existence.
I slept I know not how long, when I was startled by a flash of light, and perceived, although the moon had set, that the air was illumined by such an extraordinary brilliance that my eyes involuntarily closed again. How can I relate what followed, incredible even to myself, but which I know is only too real ? I was powerless to move, and my eyes were certainly closed; but by some new and strange sight, I perceived standing directly behind me two majestic beings, in form and lineament like men, though far more stately and beautiful, but whose faces filled me with dismay.
Upon each royal brow gleamed a star luminous as their eyes, and the trailing garments were of a shape and texture I had never before seen. From the taller and grander of these figures emanated the lightning flash which had awakened me. The look of admiration he fixed upon my mother, whose transcendent beauty reflected the unnatural light, was almost as dreadful as the scowl that alternated upon his features when he turned toward my father. I was certain that they were Devas, the incarnate celestials of whose existence I had recently become aware. He who was tall and bright at length spoke in words I had never before heard, but which, by some new perception of sound, I well understood.
“More beautiful than Eve, and as true to her lord. The man must die. Prince of the West, send forth your baneful fire.” The dark Deva raised his hand, and from the extended finger a slender shaft of light like a pale starbeam shot forward and quivered over my father’s heart. The bright being spoke again: "Smite the girl also, Hesperus.” "Not so, my Lord Satanas,” said Hesperus, surveying me attentively; “this is no common maiden. Seest thou not her nature?”
“Unlike all others,” exclaimed Satanas, “clear and strong, perhaps dangerous. She must die!” “My lord,” responded Hesperus, “I have done you some service; I have hitherto asked no favor, but now I would save this maiden,” hesitating a moment— “for myself.”
“The Staf of Evening would be reflected in beautiful eyes at last,” said Satanas, turning upon him a smile of surprise and triumph.
I shivered, but there was no motion; I groaned, but I heard not my own voice. I lay as in the deepest swoon till the morning sun shone upon our little boat and a shriek from Samoula aroused me. She was trying to raise my father, and loudly entreating him to speak. Our old servants awoke and came hurriedly forward, but all help was in vain. Allimades was dead.
In our distress and confusion we knew not what to do; our piteous cries rent the air. At that moment two grand looking persons came to the water’s edge and kindly proffered their assistance. They seemed to be men; but by the newly acquired sense I knew that the name of one was Satanas and of the other Hesperus. Samoula, too much distracted to observe my whispered caution, willingly yielded to their seeming kindness; the body of Allimades was covered with a sail-cloth, and we floated homeward, hurried along by the current of the stream. Our new acquaintances told my mother that her husband had died of a sudden and fatal disease peculiar to that locality; it was a miracle we were not all dead; she must submit to the inevitable; they would convey us to our home and render all the aid and consolation in their power.
After a few melancholy hours we reached the Hermitage and moored the boat at the foot of the cypress avenue. I was filled with indignant grief when he, called Satanas, with tender assiduity, aided my mother and devoted himself to her care, while the wicked Hesperus conveyed the body of his murdered victim to a closely screened bower in a remote part of the garden. Here Cheros felled the tall trees, and despite my protestations and his own grief, covered the dead father and the living arbor, deep, deep, beneath the heavy cypresses, shut out from the sunlight and my loving eyes forever.
I fled to my little room, and now, hidden within it, as the shadows of night come on, how gladly would I lie down and wake no more! Oh! is not this a dream, a delusion? But yesterday my father looked on me so kindly; his voice was sweet as he gave wise counsel or related stories of the olden time.
His hand was strong and warm as he aided my weak attempts to climb the rock of sacrifice. Now his eyes are without light, his face is stony; he answers not when I implore him; his cold hands lie motionless, though the trees weigh heavily upon his breast; he regards not my mother as she sits weeping by the side of the haughty Satanas.
O strange, inexplicable Death! I walk as in a dream. Stay, sweet vision, thy words I do not comprehend. I catch the gleam—
Alas! my life is changed; and yet the moon, rises as of old; the winds play idly with the cypress branches, all unconscious or careless of the fearful mystery in the arbor; and the voice of the river, as in the days gone by, breathes through the soft night air the same strange words: “Coming, coming, coming!”
DISASTER
Seven days have passed since last I wrote, bringing other alarming events. I once longed for change and adventure. God forgive my childish folly!
I left my chamber on the morning after the dreadful day, with heavy heart and a vague sense of disquiet and danger; my mother came forward, embraced me with much affection, and for a few moments we wept in each other’s arms. Sensible of a flash of light across my tired eyes, I raised them and saw the Lord Satanas, magnificent and haughty, standing near with a look of impatience, as if the scene displeased him; the Devas had not left the Hermitage. Not wishing to intrude our grief upon strangers, I hastily withdrew to the arbor study, hoping to remain unobserved; but the dark Hesperus followed me, saying—
“Aloma, I rejoice to behold your beauty, yet your eyes are dim with weeping. Let not grief overpower you; time will soothe this sorrow and the days again be bright.” These words shocked and pained me, and when he extended to me his hand—the hand that had slain my father—I recoiled with sudden horror. “Forgive,” he said in deprecating tones; “I cannot pardon myself if I frighten or offend you. F are well I”
Satanas was preparing to depart. Taking the hand of my mother, Samoula, as she acknowledged her obligation for his kindness, the proud Lord replied: “We would lightly esteem all service rendered to one so unhappy and so fair. Command us ever.” The look which accompanied these words was bold and ardent, but her eyes downcast comprehended not the meaning.
After our new acquaintances left us, with the sense of relief came also that of desolation. Death has extinguished the light of our household; the desire of our eyes is taken; we are left alone in an almost impenetrable forest; our servants are aged; a doubtful future is before us. Yet miserable as solititude must be, an introduction to the great world is far more to be dreaded. I often discuss our prospects with my mother, but her natural reticence is increased by misfortune, and I seldom obtain a confidential response.
Aldeth shares my dismal forebodings. One day, soon after the departure of the Devas, she led me to the grape-arbor and thus addressed me: “Aloma, I am alarmed for Cheros. Since the death of your father he is greatly changed. He scarcely eats or sleeps; his life seems departing. He says naught but, ‘Alas, my master! O my God!’ He is old now; I fear he will die; and I have still more terrible fears.
“Our strange visitors, I love them not. It is many years since we left Balonia, and since I saw the transformed sons of God. But, dear child, I fear that the beings who have found the Hermitage are not men. Your mother, fairest of women, was concealed from the eyes of the Devas in this wilderness; she has been discovered, and we are safe no longer.”
She clasped me in her aged arms, and exclaimed with deep emotion—"And you, poor child, are like your mother. God save you!” To which I devoutly added—“Save me from sin, O God!”
Third Moon.
The time has passed heavily; we bleached and prepared for spinning the store of flax, gathered the hemp, clipped the hair of the camels and wool of the sheep to make fabrics, and many an hour I spent in learning from my patient mother the art of dyeing thread, and weaving the fine linen of which our garments are fashioned. The monotony of the dreary days was relieved by light labor in the garden, drying grapes, dates, and sweet herbs. We conversed little, except upon the subjects of our daily occupations.
Our life went on in a dull, eventless round, till yesterday at mid-sun when Aldeth rushed into our apartments, exclaiming: “Cheros has disappeared. He was gathering dates upon the river bank, when a sudden flash of light and a loud rolling sound burst from the calm sky! I saw him fall, and flew to his assistance; the camels and kine in great affright were running around the place where he had fallen, but him I found not. O my mistress! O my child 1 Where is he, where is my husband?”
We went forth in haste to the river. A half-filled basket was standing under the date tree; the cattle bellowed, and with heads erect looked down the stream. Upon its hurrying waters we perceived the mantle of our good old servant floating out of sight. Then we lifted up our voices and wept, threw dust upon our heads, and in grief and despair sat upon the earth, while the dew and darkness fell around us.
WOOING OF THE STAR-SPIRITS
As day began to dawn, a boat was seen coming down the stream, and from the unusual light that pervaded the water, and a sudden illumination as it neared the shore, I recognized with a sinking heart the presence of the Star-spirits.
Perceiving our group, the boat drew to the landing. Two well-remembered forms advanced to the spot where we were sitting, and Lord Satanas spoke thus: “Passing this shore upon a hasty affair of state, we were reminded of our last sorrowful visit, and turned aside to enquire how fares the lovely Samoula.” Then surveying the group earnestly, with hypocritical surprise, he exclaimed: “Ah! what new calamity has befallen thee, most beautiful of women ? Why is that glorious head defiled with ashes, which should be crowned with flowers, nay, with a royal diadem?”
“Alas, my lord,” Samoula answered, “Cheros is dead! The decrees of fate are against us.” “O fairest of earth’s daughters,” said he, extending Mis hands to aid her, “even fate relents in the presence of thy tears. Thou shalt be protected. Arise; forget thy sorrow while we take counsel with regard to the future.”
I had no time to remonstrate, for Hesperus immediately addressed me: “And thou wilt need a friend, Aloma. Turn not away, but consider my words. Samoula will depart with Satanas; if thou remain alone in this wilderness, death will soon ensue and thy fair form become a prey to savage beasts. Remove to Balonia, and greater danger threatens. But if I may claim the sacred right of protection, safety and happiness are assured. Aloma, thou hast power never before conferred upon mortal maid; thou art inspired by ambition lofty as that which animates my own spirit: Thou wert born to be an angel’s bride. Become the partner of Hesperus, share in his glory, and the unimaginable fervor of an angel’s passion will enkindle thy human soul. Love and honor shall be thine, such as woman has never known; the treasures of earth will be laid at thy feet; a princess shalt thou reign in my kingdom and in my heart.
"But lest the breath of a wicked world should dim the lustre of my precious pearl, I have prepared a paradise in the far West, remote from the haunts of men. No evil can encroach upon its joy, nor Deva’s glance intrude upon its privacy. Above is the benignant sky, and in cool recesses flowers distill perfume; doves nestle in overhanging boughs; in the fountain white swans sail; and on the margin lilies nod. Thither shall Aloma retire if the grandeur of royalty becomes oppressive."
Then my soul became enlarged, and I replied: "O Hesperus! though I am a weak and ignorant maiden, humblest of the daughters of men, by some power I can neither explain to another or myself, I know that thou art a Star-spirit, made for purity and glory, but now only less wicked than yon proud being who walks by my mother’s side. I know that a crisis impends in the affairs of earth, a pall hangs over the kingdom of the Devas; the day of reckoning draws nigh, and all who are found at that dread moment in the service of Satanas will sink to darkness and despair. I am permitted to warn you; more than that I cannot do. Be your bride? Share your power and glory ? Sooner would I die by lingering starvation; sooner would I give my body to wild beasts or devouring flames. I fear naught but my eternal death1 which would mean eternal oblivion. Ambitious? In that thou saidst truly, but my ambitions rise beyond the present bounds of sense!”
I was astonished at my own earnestness, and hid my blushing face; but marvelously sustained, I walked away from Hesperus, who, overcome by the conflict of disappointed passions, became deadly pale and remained motionless. The Devas soon left us. I do not know what passed between Satanas and my mother. She was thoughtful and
1 See Appendix, Note 8. S
restless, but spoke not, and upon myself filial awe imposed reluctant silence. An impassable barrier seemed to have arisen between us; confidence was at an end.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
From this time on various afflictions assailed us. Many of our cattle died; trees were set on fire; the date-bearing palms were thrown down; the river rose and flooded the garden; destruction raged over the Hermitage. Our food and garments became mildewed; we drew near the gates of death. I could not but connect these misfortunes with the power of the Devas, who I knew were malignant, as they were grand and beautiful.
One memorable evening, after a day of gloom and disaster, a sudden light pervaded the scene—a peculiar brilliance which I but too well understood. Like the scintillation of stars, Satanas and Hesperus appeared before us; their voices were sweet and their words gentle. Following them was a troop of strange looking beings, men of low fore-
heads, beardless, giants1 in stature, and of great strength. I instinctively recognized them as the Darvands, the sons of the Devas. They bore upon their backs large bundles wrapped in oilskins. Carefully unrolling these, they knelt and placed at my mother’s feet baskets of fruit, meats, unlike any we had hitherto known. Some of the packages contained beautiful fabrics, shawls and girdles rich with embroidery, and most ravishing to my unaccustomed eyes—jewels of crystal and gold.
But curious admiration was checked when I discovered upon every package a uniform mark, in shape of a winged serpent. I looked at the bearers of the treasures. Upon the breast of the tunics they wore, and upon the band which crossed their foreheads, was the same emblem. I knew the deadly meaning of the seal. It was the form in which the Tempter appeared to our mother Eve, and I fled to my own apartment in great alarm.
Here, in the quiet of my room, the anxious tumult in my breast was soon calmed. All nature seemed to bend over me with a smile and benediction as I looked out from my window upon the calm earth and sky. I was alone, indeed, without human companionship, but I recalled the omnipotence of the God of my father and feeling certain of his continued protection, the feeling of loneliness departed.
A light step at the door interrupted my meditation, and Samoula entered the chamber. “The banquet is prepared. Will you not join us, Aloma ?” The question did not harmonize with my mood, and I answered, perhaps too briefly, “No, my mother.”
“Our life is so sad and dull, will you not aid to brighten it?”
“I cannot, my mother.”
“The Lord Satanas honors you with an invitation. Will you not accept it? Hesperus inquires for you, and anxiously awaits your coming. Will you not see him ?”
Then I fell upon my knees and clasped Samoula’s hand. “Dear mother,” I exclaimed, “God has enlightened my mind, therefore permit me to speak. Satanas and Hesperus are treacherous friends. They have destroyed Allimades and Cheros, and can easily take our lives. But over our eternal destiny they have no power, except as it is conferred by our own will. Resist these wicked demons and they are powerless. For their wicked purpose the Devas desire possession both of the mind and of the body. Therefore they condescend to temporize, to persuade, to allure. O mother, do not yield, lest you embrace death!”
“Aloma,” she answered soothingly, “you are a child, utterly without knowledge of the world. Your judgment is immature; a timid fancy has misled you. In this wilderness death is indeed inevitable. In Balonia, my early home, whither my heart has ever turned, we shall find, under the protection of its powerful lord, not only life, but happiness.
Lay aside these unseasonable fears, and come with me to the banquet.”
Again I answered—could I say aught else?
—“Nay, my mother.”
With a sigh Samoula retired; and when I had partaken of the simple food Aldeth brought for my repast, I commended myself to God, and afterward slept in peace, though at intervals during the night I was awakened by unusual noises in the forest—the crash of falling trees and the sound of mechanical implements.
My first consciousness in the morning was self-reproach that I had left my mother and Aldeth so long alone with our dangerous guests. Robed more closely than usual, with a fold of linen over my head, I opened the door of my room, and saw at the farther extremity of the avenue the majestic form of Satanas standing before Samoula, who sat with her face averted from his gaze.
…