Thus I feel no longer lonely and deserted. The young scholar seems to have come to me as a messenger from the Powers; I can confide all to him, and while we compare our experiences, we lend each other mutual I support on the narrow path in the valley of suffering. He also has been struck in his youth, and all men are violently roused from sleep! There is a universal awakening proceeding, and what is to be its goal? III MY WRETCHEDNESS INCREASES (cont.) Swedenborg, my guide in the darkness, has finally revealed himself as an avenger. His Arcana Coelestia speaks only of hell and of punishments which are executed by evil spirits, _i.e._ devils. Not a word of comfort or grace. And yet, while I was still young, the Devil had been got rid of; everyone laughed at him, and now, by the irony of accident, they are just preparing to keep the jubilee of the philosopher Bostrom, who did away with hell and annihilated the Devil. In my youth this thinker was regarded as a reformer, and now the Devil is preparing a renaissance for himself. He has crept into the productions of the so-called Satanic literature, into the fine arts by the side of Christ, and even into trade. Last Christmas I noticed that the Christmas presents were adorned with little devils and goblins, both the children's toys and comic objects which elder people buy for each other, such as spice cakes and almanacks. Is there really a devil, or is he only a half-real bugbear projected from the unseen in order to make a strong impression on us, and to drive us to the Cross? I had not yet succeeded in finding an answer to this question, when, one cold, wet evening my friends took me to a sculptor, who is a freethinker and atheist, as are the other members of the theosophical society to which he belongs. He has a private collection of clay ornaments on view intended for the Stockholm Exhibition. In these, with repulsive realism and cynicism, the Devil is represented in different attitudes, and always with a priest who is terrified at him. People laugh at them, but I cannot laugh, and think to myself "Wait, and we shall see!" After an interval of four months I meet the sculptor in the street. He looks troubled, as though some misfortune had happened to him. "Can you imagine," he says, "such a piece of infernal bad luck? They have just broken three of my best figures in unpacking them at the Exhibition." I feel immensely interested, and simultaneously with my condolence over his misfortune I ask with almost shameless curiosity, "And which of your statuettes were they?" "Three of the Devil, I believe." I do not laugh, but answer with a smile, "There, you see! Lucifer does not like to be caricatured."