but their bodies also, although dead, that would be sent to fire and chains for ever.
And now the angel of death led the trembling soul nearer to heaven, where mercy has been promised; and the door was still open.
And then the soul following the angel of death fancied he could see once more his own death-bed. There lay the body formed of dust, wrapped in a white shroud, and strangers were copying this image of itself.
Again they went forward with great strides, and entered what at first seemed a large hall, and then a forest. But nature was dumb, the trees were either close to, or at a distance from, each other, and they did not look real, but artificial, or like the ivy-covered wall of an old-fashioned French garden. It was truly a masquerade.
“See there the life of man,” said the angel.
Yet there was nothing to see only under a deception.
Those in gold and velvet were not always to be looked upon as the noblest and mightiest; they were even less noble than many who wore coarse smock-frocks, and were in poverty and considered insignificant.
It was very strange and peculiar, yet amusing to see how careful all these masqueraders were to conceal something or other under their garments. But when one dragged the garment of another so violently that it came off, then was seen the head of an animal—here a grinning ass; there an ugly he-goat; or a cold, slimy snake, and at last a stale fish.
These animals represented some of the vices that live and grow in the human heart, where they leap and spring and show themselves; therefore a garment is fastened tightly round the wearers to conceal their real characters. But of what use is that? People who saw these garments dragged off, only laughed and cried out—
“See there! That is he! That is she!”
And so there always are some ready to cover others with misery and disgrace.
And the wandering spirit asked—
“What were my animals then once?”
Then the angel of death pointed out a proud figure of himself, the head adorned with a many-coloured, radiant glory. But the feet of an animal stuck in the heart of the man—and they were the feet of a peacock! while the glory was no other than the many-coloured tail of the bird!
They went on farther, where the cawing of the great birds on the branches of the trees, sounded like a human voice, saying—
“Thou wanderer on the way of death, knowest thou me still?” It was the voice of the wicked thoughts and desires of his life, who were each asking, “Knowest thou me still?”
A dread seized the soul, for it recognised the voices of its wicked thoughts and desires, that like witnesses for the right stepped forth against it. “Ah, well,” said the spirit, “I know that the wicked nature that dwells in the flesh is not good, yet these sinful thoughts of mine did not result in evil deeds—the world saw very little corrupt fruit.”
Then the angel of death led the soul away rapidly, that they might not
