The Mahatma and the Hare: A Dream Story

  THE GREAT WHITE ROAD

  Now, as I have hinted, under the teaching of Jorsen, who saved me fromdegradation and self-murder, yes, and helped me with money until onceagain I could earn a livelihood, I have acquired certain knowledge andwisdom of a sort that are not common. That is, Jorsen taught methe elements of these things; he set my feet upon the path whichthenceforward, having the sight, I have been able to follow for myself.How I followed it does not matter, nor could I teach others if I would.

  I am no member of any mystic brotherhood, and, as I have explained, noMahatma, although I have called myself thus for present purposes becausethe name is a convenient cloak. I repeat that I am ignorant if thereare such people as Mahatmas, though if so I think Jorsen must be oneof them. Still he never told me this. What he has told is that everyindividual spirit must work out its own destiny quite independentlyof others. Indeed, being rather fond of fine phrases, he has sometimesspoken to me of, or rather, insisted upon what he called "the lonesomesplendour of the human soul," which it is our business to perfectthrough various lives till I can scarcely appreciate and am certainlyunable to describe.

  To tell the truth, the thought of this "lonesome splendour" to whichit seems some of us may attain, alarms me. I have had enough of beinglonesome, and I do not ask for any particular splendour. My onlyambitions are to find those whom I have lost, and in whatever lifeI live to be of use to others. However, as I gather that the exaltedcondition to which Jorsen alludes is thousands of ages off for any ofus, and may after all mean something quite different to what it seems tomean, the thought of it does not trouble me over much. Meanwhile what Iseek is the vision of those I love.

  Now I have this power. Occasionally when I am in deep sleep some part ofme seems to leave my body and to be transported quite outside the world.It travels, as though I were already dead, to the Gates that all wholive must pass, and there takes its stand, on the Great White Road,watching those who have been called speed by continually. Those upon theearth know nothing of that Road. Blinded by their pomps and vanities,they cannot see, they will not see it always growing towards the feet ofevery one of them. But I see and know. Of course you who read will saythat this is but a dream of mine, and it may be. Still, if so, it is avery wonderful dream, and except for the change of the passing people,or rather of those who have been people, always very much the same.

  There, straight as the way of the Spirit and broad as the breast ofDeath, is the Great White Road running I know not whence, up to thoseGates that gleam like moonlight and are higher than the Alps. Therebeyond the Gates the radiant Presences move mysteriously. Thence at theappointed time the Voice cries and they are opened with a sound like tothat of deepest thunder, or sometimes are burned away, while from theGlory that lies beyond flow the sweet-faced welcomers to greet those forwhom they wait, bearing the cups from which they give to drink. I donot know what is in the cups, whether it be a draught of Lethe orsome baptismal water of new birth, or both; but always the thirsting,world-worn soul appears to change, and then as it were to be lost in thePresence that gave the cup. At least they are lost to my sight. I seethem no more.

  Why do I watch those Gates, in truth or in dream, before my time? Oh!You can guess. That perchance I may behold those for whom my heart burnswith a quenchless, eating fire. And once I beheld--not the mother butthe child, my child, changed indeed, mysterious, wonderful, gleaminglike a star, with eyes so deep that in their depths my humanity seemedto swoon.

  She came forward; she knew me; she smiled and laid her finger on herlips. She shook her hair about her and in it vanished as in a cloud. Yetas she vanished a voice spoke in my heart, her voice, and the words itsaid were--

  "Wait, our Beloved! Wait!"

  Mark well. "Our Beloved," not "My Beloved." So there are others by whomI am beloved, or at least one other, and I know well who that one mustbe.

  *****

  After this dream, perhaps I had better call it a dream, I was ill for along while, for the joy and the glory of it overpowered me and broughtme near to the death I had always sought. But I recovered, for my houris not yet. Moreover, for a long while as we reckon time, some yearsindeed, I obeyed the injunction and sought the Great White Road no more.At length the longing grew too strong for me and I returned thither, butnever again did the vision come. Its word was spoken, its mission wasfulfilled. Yet from time to time I, a mortal, seem to stand upon theborders of that immortal Road and watch the newly dead who travel ittowards the glorious Gates.

  Once or twice there have been among them people whom I have known. Asthese pass me I appear to have the power of looking into their hearts,and there I read strange things. Sometimes they are beautiful things andsometimes ugly things. Thus I have learned that those I thought bad werereally good in the main, for who can claim to be quite good? And on theother hand that those I believed to be as honest as the day--well, hadtheir faults.

  To take an example which I quote because it is so absurd. The rooms Ilive in were owned by a prim old woman who for more than twenty yearswas my landlady. She and I were great friends, indeed she tended me likea mother, and when I was so ill nursed me as perhaps few mothers wouldhave done. Yet while I was watching on the Road suddenly she came by,and with horror I saw that during all those years she had been robbingme, taking, I am sorry to say, many things, in money, trinkets, andfood. Often I had discussed with her where these articles could possiblyhave gone, till finally suspicion settled upon the man who cleaned thewindows. Yes, and worst of all, he was prosecuted, and I gave evidenceagainst him, or rather strengthened her evidence, on faith of which themagistrate sent him to prison for a month.

  "Oh! Mrs Smithers," I said to her, "how _could_ you do it, Mrs.Smithers?"

  She stopped and looked about her terrified, so that my heart smote meand I added in haste, "Don't be frightened, Mrs. Smithers; I forgiveyou."

  "I can't see you, sir," she exclaimed, or so I dreamed, "but there! Ialways knew you would."

  "Yes, Mrs. Smithers," I replied; "but how about the window-cleaner whowent to jail and lost his situation?"

  Then she passed on or was drawn away without making any answer.

  Now comes the odd part of the story. When I woke up on the followingmorning in my rooms, it was to be informed by the frightenedmaid-of-all-work that Mrs. Smithers had been found dead in her bed.Moreover, a few days later I learned from a lawyer that she had madea will leaving me everything she possessed, including the lease of herhouse and nearly L1000, for she had been a saving old person during allher long life.

  Well, I sought out that window-cleaner and compensated him handsomely,saying that I had found I was mistaken in the evidence I gave againsthim. The rest of the property I kept, and I hope that it was not wrongof me to do so. It will be remembered that some of it was already myown, temporarily diverted into another channel, and for the rest I haveso many to help. To be frank I do not spend much upon myself.