“Your own attitude is?——”
“The reluctant acceptance of such terrific knowledge as is forced upon me,—” he replied with a dark smile—“I do not say I have been an apt or a willing pupil,—I have had to suffer in learning what I know!”
“Do you believe in hell?” I asked him suddenly—“And in Satan, the Arch-Enemy of mankind?”
He was silent for so long that I was surprised, the more so as he grew pale to the lips, and a curious, almost deathlike rigidity of feature gave his expression something of the ghastly and terrible. After a pause he turned his eyes upon me,—an intense burning misery was reflected in them, though he smiled.
“Most assuredly I believe in hell! How can I do otherwise if I believe in heaven? If there is an Up there must be [p 441] a Down; if there is Light, there must also be Darkness! And, ... concerning the Arch-Enemy of mankind,—if half the stories reported of him be true, he must be the most piteous and pitiable figure in the Universe! What would be the sorrows of a thousand million worlds, compared to the sorrows of Satan!”
“Sorrows!” I echoed—“He is supposed to rejoice in the working of evil!”
“Neither angel nor devil can do that,”—he said slowly—“To rejoice in the working of evil is a temporary mania which affects man only. For actual joy to come out of evil, Chaos must come again, and God must extinguish Himself.” He stared across the dark sea,—the sun had sunk, and one faint star twinkled through the clouds. “And so I again say—the sorrows of Satan! Sorrows immeasurable as eternity itself,—imagine them! To be shut out of Heaven!—to hear all through the unending æons
, the far-off voices of angels whom once he knew and loved!—to be a wanderer among deserts of darkness, and to pine for the light celestial that was formerly as air and food to his being,—and to know that Man’s folly, Man’s utter selfishness, Man’s cruelty, keep him thus exiled, an outcast from pardon and peace! Man’s nobleness may lift the Lost Spirit almost within reach of his lost joys,—but Man’s vileness drags him down again,—easy was the torture of Sisyphus compared with the torture of Satan! No wonder that he loathes Mankind!—small blame to him if he seeks to destroy the puny tribe eternally,—little marvel that he grudges them their share of immortality! Think of it as a legend merely,”—and he turned upon me with a movement that was almost fierce—“Christ redeemed Man,—and by his teaching, showed how it was possible for Man to redeem the Devil!”
“I do not understand you—” I said feebly, awed by the strange pain and passion of his tone.
“Do you not? Yet my meaning is scarcely obscure! If men were true to their immortal instincts and to the God that made them,—if they were generous, honest, [p 442] fearless, faithful, reverent, unselfish, ... if women were pure, brave, tender and loving,—can you not imagine that in the strong force and fairness of such a world, ‘Lucifer, son of the Morning’ would be moved to love instead of hate?—that the closed doors of Paradise would be unbarred—and that he, lifted towards his Creator on the prayers of pure lives, would wear again his Angel’s crown? Can you not realize this, even by way of a legendary story?”