'Alas!' answered Apaecides, sadly, 'thou seest before thee a wretched
and distracted man! From my childhood upward I have idolized the dreams
of virtue! I have envied the holiness of men who, in caves and lonely
temples, have been admitted to the companionship of beings above the
world; my days have been consumed with feverish and vague desires; my
nights with mocking but solemn visions. Seduced by the mystic
prophecies of an impostor, I have indued these robes;--my nature (I
confess it to thee frankly)--my nature has revolted at what I have seen
and been doomed to share in! Searching after truth, I have become but
the minister of falsehoods. On the evening in which we last met, I was
buoyed by hopes created by that same impostor, whom I ought already to
have better known. I have--no matter--no matter! suffice it, I have
added perjury and sin to rashness and to sorrow. The veil is now rent
for ever from my eyes; I behold a villain where I obeyed a demigod; the
earth darkens in my sight; I am in the deepest abyss of gloom; I know
not if there be gods above; if we are the things of chance; if beyond
the bounded and melancholy present there is annihilation or an
hereafter--tell me, then, thy faith; solve me these doubts, if thou hast
indeed the power!'
'I do not marvel,' answered the Nazarene, 'that thou hast thus erred, or
that thou art thus sceptic. Eighty years ago there was no assurance to
man of God, or of a certain and definite future beyond the grave. New
laws are declared to him who has ears--a heaven, a true Olympus, is
revealed to him who has eyes--heed then, and listen.'
And with all the earnestness of a man believing ardently himself, and
zealous to convert, the Nazarene poured forth to Apaecides the
assurances of Scriptural promise. He spoke first of the sufferings and
miracles of Christ--he wept as he spoke: he turned next to the glories
of the Saviour's Ascension--to the clear predictions of Revelation. He
described that pure and unsensual heaven destined to the virtuous--those
fires and torments that were the doom of guilt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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