The birth of humanity; a novel (sequel to "Tuned higher than the race")

Introduction

The subject of this volume is the coming of the World-Teacher, as expected by all peoples of the world.

It is designed to help prepare the way for the Master and make His path straight.

Only a few people know that the World- Teacher can be invited to come.

It depends on us mortals, only.

If we evolve the necessary conditions in ourselves and in the world, then we will not be kept waiting.

The Master is always ready.

Contents

Chapter Page

I. Sura and Asura Arrive.11

II. The World Teacher and His Opposer . . 33

Prologue

Personages:

SURA

ASURA

The scene is the Universe.

Sura: I am sent to the world with my host of followers to give birth to humanity. They call me the Light- B ringer.

A sura: I am sent to the world with my host of fol¬ lowers to resist thy work. They call me the Great Opposer.

Sura: Thy work is dear to me. Without thee I could not accomplish my task. We will stand together, thou fighting me, and return victors. The Lord be with thee, my Brother.

A sura: May my power soon be broken. The Lord be with thee, my Brother.

Chapter I

It was the longest day of the year. A man walked in his garden after sunset enjoying the coolness of the evening.

A mysterious light illuminated the blessed land of Cali¬ fornia. The sun, though having disappeared in the ocean, seemed unable to leave the horizon. Seemingly one could follow its rays behind the curving line for the whole night, as if it were eager to be present at the great event that was to be of such mighty influence on the human race and the Universe.

In front of the man was the Pacific Ocean, endless. The faint rippling of the waves sent their tiny voices up¬ ward to the thinker.

He could not resign himself to rest, surrounded as he felt he was, by inexplicable influences. An atmosphere of holiness surrounded him; and when he closed his eyes a distant music seemed to fill the air, as if produced by a host of children singing with closed lips.

His thoughts lingered with his family: his beloved wife and his six children in Europe, where, at this very moment, the sun was shining in all its glory. He saw them, the eldest son nearly twenty, the second nineteen, the girls still children, the younger boys going to school.

But this vision dated from three years past, when he had left home. Now his eldest son was married and a father. He had not seen him since.

He—this thinker—had been sent away from home to accomplish a sacred task, not even known to himself. A stately Hindu had visited him to draw him into this mysteri¬ ous work.

“We need you, Mr. Bicker,” he had said, with a deep, melodious voice. “You will be the precursor of the Great One who is coming.”

Who was the Great One?

Even now, three years later, he did not know. The Hindu was directing his trip. Mr. Bicker had to speak in all countries of the world on religion and wisdom: glorious synonyms, destined to uplift the race.

“What will be my task?” he had asked, in a trembling voice.

“To do what you have been doing for so many years, Mr. Bicker: speak to the intelligence and to the hearts of men; speak of unity and charity; spread knowledge of the unknown; bring all human hearts together.” And Bicker had left his beloved ones with bleeding heart, but sup¬ ported by a glorious enthusiasm, indispensable to all spiritual endeavor.

He had been separated from his work, forced to dis¬ entangle himself from his business, the Bicker-Van Nuyss Company, known throughout the world; from the manage¬ ment of his church so dear to him; and, above all, from his relatives who had clung to him with all their love.

He now recalled his farewell to his wife—the saddest and, at the same time, the grandest moment of his life. It had proved to him how he was still loved, twenty years after his marriage. He remembered Ann’s sobs and her smiles through her tears, as she tried to encourage him and speak words of hope.

“You will come back, my dear Edward, when your task is accomplished. Our children will have grown, and our love will be as strong and true as now and as it was the day of our marriage.”

Three years of hard work had passed away; three years during which he had visited many countries, speaking in all languages of charity and unity; of the end of hate and envy; of metaphysical subjects; of the great event that was near, not fully knowing himself even what it might be. He said everywhere that a great blessing from above was to be imparted to the human race. A great step of progress was to be taken; an uplifting of the race to a higher stand¬ point was at hand; a long period of reconstruction was to take the place of the period of demolishing, which man had just witnessed—a terrible time of war and revolution, of murder and famine, of ruin and despair!

His words had not been accepted by all. He had been derided by those whose hearts were too sadly shaken by despair; those upon whose contracted lips sorrow had too deeply engraved its hieroglyphics, and in whose eyes the sorrows of the recent past still lived like a black phantom; and those in whose ears each word of hope and light sounded like a blasphemy. He had been persecuted by the fanatics of all countries in whose minds their own doctrines were the only true ones; their own ways of seeking God the only possible ways; those who imagined that only one road led to the Divine.

More than once, his life had been endangered.

Our hero sometimes received messages from the noble Hindu—precious advices by letter; and then he felt con¬ soled, knowing that he was treading the right path and that his work was properly controlled. His entire trip had been systematically planned to cover a great part of the earth.

He traveled nearly always by aeroplane. Rooms in a huge air-ship had been arranged for him and he was flying from one country to the other without much loss of time. It often happened that he made an address in one country one day, and on the next day, one in another far removed. The Hindu used to send him, every month, a list of towns and villages where he should speak. And it seemed that the captain of his aeroplane possessed a similar list, since Mr. Bicker never had to give any orders. Whenever the machine started on a new trip, the speaker was sure to arrive in due time at the next appointed station.

The captain was a strange man—a Hindu of noble appearance with an everlasting smile on his bearded face. Mr. Bicker sometimes tried to speak with him, to get infor¬ mation on the future Event, the coming of which he was preparing.

“Are you in doubt, sir, as to whether the Event will take place?” asked the Hindu with a look of wisdom.

“Not in the least, Captain.”

“Do you, then, fear that you are on the wrong path?”

“Not at all.”

“Why, then, be worried?”

“But I want to know.”

“Mr. Bicker is inquisitive.”

“Perhaps I am.”

“But you engaged yourself in this splendid work, placing confidence in the man who induced you to do so. Have you since lost your confidence in that man?”

“Not in the least.”

“Why, then, ask questions? Go on as you have been and all will be well. You must understand that there are reasons why you are left in darkness on some points.”

Mr. Edward Bicker had a comfortable home in his aeroplane; but his apartments occupied only a small part of the huge machine, which was as large as a steamer.

He had sometimes tried to open certain doors but they were all carefully locked.

How large was the crew? He saw the mates, all Hindus, always cleaning and polishing the brasswork, oiling the machinery and drying towels; but the doors were inac¬ cessible to our hero.

He attempted to speak to the Hindu crew, trying all languages he knew, as well as Hindustani, but the sailors seemed not to understand one of them. They seemed never to speak, at least not in Edward’s presence.

Who lived in the huge airship ? Sometimes people of all nations entered or left the machine, always mute and none of them taking the least notice of Mr. Bicker.

In some places our hero had to pass several days or even weeks. In these instances he was invited by the captain to go into the hotel where a room was reserved for him. If Bicker inquired by whom the room had been reserved he was always told, “By Mr. James Smith.”

When he had occasion to leave the aeroplane for some side trip, he found an automobile at the door of his apart¬ ment ready to take him to his destination. And when, as occasionally he did, he returned to the spot where he had left the airship, it had generally disappeared; but on the day scheduled for his departure an automobile arrived at his hotel or lodging to fetch him, and he always found the aeroplane waiting for him at a different place. When all was ready the door of his room was closed without notice by invisible hands; he heard the faint whirr of the engine and off he went.

On one of the walls of his bedroom was a box for mes¬ sages from the captain. Every morning it contained a little map, showing the exact location of the airship at sunrise and where it should pass during the day. And there were brief notices relating to the interesting points en route, the height of the mountains and the dimensions of the lakes. Sometimes the map contained just the words: “Sea the whole day long; no land.”

The captain was wont to suddenly enter Mr. Bicker’s room, whenever he wished to call attention to some point of interest. For instance:

“The mountain to your right is Mount Everest, the highest peak in the world,” or, “Lake Victoria Nyanza, where the Nile has its origin. Look at the Ripon Falls”; or, “The Grand Canyon of the Colorado.”

Our hero was sometimes seized with an almost over¬ whelming longing to see his wife again, his children and his friends. Three years had passed in constant work for a largely unknown purpose; three years of hard work in all countries; three years during which some of his children had grown into men and women. His eldest son had married and become a father.

His youngest sons were still of school age, and he had had to leave their education solely to their mother. Was it not his duty to go home and reassume the task he had left to others for so many years? So ran his occasional thoughts.

If he asked the captain if they would soon be in Europe, the latter would answer:

“As soon as your work in other parts of the world is over, sir.”

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know. I have only to obey. I have in my cabin an itinerary covering six months. It contains brief notices. For instance,” he quoted, “leave Brisbane at six a. m., half speed; arrive at Newcastle the 6th at two p. m.; leave Sydney at six p. m., full speed to Melbourne.”

“May I see your list?” asked Edward.

“I may not show it, Mr. Bicker; but, as you know, I sometimes give you a little of our itinerary. All is arranged beforehand. At times, I am instructed to leave you in a hotel; on other occasions you are to stay but one or two days at a place and sleep on board.”

Edward was fond of the captain, with his haughty looks and ever kind manners. Assuredly he was a learned man; occasionally he gave our hero advice with regard to his lec¬ tures and talks. He was a deep thinker and a clever philos¬ opher, with broad views in all that touched human life and the progress of the race. But he refused to speak of that which concerned the coming Event, and regarding the pas¬ sengers of the areoplane. He would not even mention his own name:

“Call me captain, sir. There is but one captain on board.”

The service of the ship was of the best. When Edward gave an order it was promptly executed. There was always hot water in his bathroom and ice water to drink. His meals were served at regular hours and were always of the best quality. An hour before dinner a waiter entered to ask his master’s pleasure and when Bicker wished a certain dish, it was seldom that it could not be procured.

It would have been impossible to travel in an easier way. The huge airship resisted the most terrible storms. If the wind raged round her sides, hardly a stronger than ordinary vibration was felt, or a deeper sound of the screws heard. With admirable ease she rode out the wildest hurricanes; they were incapable of even retarding her speed.

In California, Mr. Bicker owned a house situated on an eminence. It was a gift from the mysterious Hindu; and sometimes he was left there for weeks or months to rest and prepare future lectures. The house was not large, but very comfortable; and it was kept in perfect order by two servants who lodged in a separate bungalow in the grounds.

The Pacific Ocean lay broad and far in front of the house*, and Edward passed long hours at his table under the porch, writing, reading or letting his eyes wander out over the beauties of the sea.

At the beginning of this story the reader met our hero during one of his periods of lonely home life.

He sat in his garden mentally watching the rays of the sun on the horizon as it continued its glorious course around the earth, illuminating the distant sea, while the waves at Bicker’s feet were bathed in the darkness of midnight. A clear line divided the ocean in two parts—the limit between the seen and the unseen.

A mysterious atmosphere filmed the sky, and only a few stars succeeded in manifesting their presence through the strange atmosphere of the night.

What could it be?

Did the whole world expect a great joy, an event of beauty and holiness?

Bicker scarcely breathed; he was awaiting the unknown; his heart beat in his breast with a lightness and an exultation never known before.

Had the long-expected hour struck?

Was the unknown Hero arriving in all His glory and majesty?

Edward closed his eyes and his cheeks were wet with tears. Why was he crying on this holy night when heaven and earth were singing the glory of the Eternal ?

Singing?

Listen! Listen!

All the birds in the trees were singing at midnight as though heralding the coming of the Hero of the day. The concert of sweet bird voices sounded like an angel chorus and the little singers seemed to vie with one another in enthusiasm.

Flowers, which ordinarily awoke only at dawn, opened their petals, as if eager to offer their perfume to The Blessed One. To the astonishment of their parents, children started singing sweet melodies in their sleep.

A strange silence crept into all places where the frivo¬ lous were gathered; idle chatter and laughter were stilled in the throats of excited women; the hands of men seemed paralyzed; a mysterious lethargy held tongues and fettered limbs; a hollow death-knell sounded the end of all trifling and vanity. The films in the theaters stopped as if by some enchanted power. Curses were changed into prayers.

“What happened to me?” hoarsely breathed a frivolous woman.

“We are lost!” cried an intoxicated man.

“The end of the world is near!”

* * *

At the seaside the charm continued. All the angels seemed to be on their knees.

People discovered an unusual light in their houses.

All creation seemed to send up to God a variant hymn of praise.

The heavens shook; God Himself sent blessings out over H is Universe.

Edward Bicker, looking through his tears of enthusiasm, saw a large bright star shining through the clouds hovering over the sea.

A moving star!

It rose from the depths of the shimmering sea at the horizon; rose and fell as if floating on ethereal waves.

A moving star!

Was it a raging cosmic orb, hastening to destroy the earth ?

Was one of those terrible astronomical collisions at hand, like one sees at times in the far nocturnal sky, of which people speak as a new star creation instead of the destruction of two stars?

Was the earth to be reduced to a gaseous state by con¬ tact with another globe? Or was The Eye Divine looking at the earth?

The star drew nearer, its splendor increasing every moment.

It proved to be a huge aeroplane, lighted in some mysterious way, approaching with wondrous rapidity. It stopped for some moments above the house and a stream of colored light hovered above Bicker’s head. It then swerved slowly to the right and soon disappeared behind the mountains.

* * *

The mysterious aeroplane landed near a large seaside country seat in California. Nearby was an extensive park planted with palms and other ever-green vegetation. The doors of the airship were thrown open; a man alighted and walked slowly to a splendid building visible through the trees.

He entered a large hall where many people were as¬ sembled. All bowed in reverence, and several moments passed before they dared lift their eyes to the face of the man who had entered their midst.

They saw a tall man dressed in flowing oriental robes reaching to his ankles; a yellow mantle was fastened about his neck and hung to his feet; over this was draped a shorter one of a violet hue that fell only to the knees. One of his white hands was adorned with a mysterious ring, the stone of which seemed to spread a phosphorescent light, as the hand was lifted in a gesture of benediction.

The stranger’s face shone with an almost indescribable glory and loveliness. His long curly hair and his beard were both of a golden hue, crowning and circling about a youthful, oval face with a skin of almost feminine fineness of texture. His lightly closed lips spoke of charity and love; his shapely nose of mercy and exquisite taste; his high fore¬ head of power and indomitable wfill-power. The part in the hair above the forehead seemed a thread uniting human nature to the Divine. His eyes in their pure and diaphanous limpidity seemed at once to embrace the Universe in its entirety.

He mused some moments as He looked upon those as¬ sembled before Him. Then he pronounced the sweetest of all blessings:

“Peace to all beings.”

A sudden light emanating from his heart, filled the whole room and surrounded all present. This light, com¬ posed of the sacred tints of the rainbow, was thrown out with an almost dazzling energy—an outburst of love divine. Everyone closed their eyes and when they reopened them they knew their hearts were bound closely together in a bond of unity.

A sweet fragrance radiated from the mysterious stranger: a perfume uniting the scent of all earthly flowers and that of unknown blossoms, an odor incomparable to any terrestrial scent.

He even seemed to speak with a voice of light. His every word was encircled within a halo, bestowing blessings on his hearers.

“I am sent to give birth to humanity. The human race will be my material. I must bring the stones carefully together and cement them with pure love and sacrifice. I will build the great temple of humanity, where God will dwell.”

He was silent and the voice of the sea was heard. Then waving with his hand toward the numerous chairs, he said:

“Be seated, my brethren. Ye will all help me in the accomplishment of my task. From this place light will radiate on all the world and ye will be the bearers of its beams.”

Again he was silent for some moments. Then he resumed:

“Not far from here dwells the blessed man who, these many years, has been preparing mv coming, opening the furrows wherein I will sow the sacred seeds from which humanity shall be born. I sent him my blessing, some moments ago. Take care of him ; he is the most precious of our race.

“During the fulfillment of his gigantic task he will be exposed to many dangers from my brother Asura. Protect him, cover him with your shields and pur work shall succeed.

“We all, my brethren, will be exposed to Asura’s attacks, but we are invincible because of our strong will to succeed, our wisdom and our unity.”

Then those assembled were invited to speak and to express their individual thoughts.

Many races were represented, all men of noble stature, bearers of power and strong will: the bloom of the human race.

First spoke the Hindu who had engaged Edward Bicker to assume the task of preparing the advent of the Light- Bringer. He told of Bicker’s noble confidence in him, a stranger; how Edward had been separated from his loving wife and his lovely children and how he had given up his responsible position in the Bicker-Van Nuyss Company to wander afar, to speak of charity and unity throughout the world; how his enthusiasm was constant, and his heart open to his neighbor.

“A splendid man,” said he, in conclusion, “to whom the heavy task has been wisely entrusted.”

Sura, the Light-Bringer, bowed his head, saying:

“He is a worthy brother of his sister.”

A Chinese told of the work’s progress in his country, where Bicker had labored several months:

“His words blossomed in the hearts of my countrymen like flowers in a garden.”

An American described Edward’s work in the United States, in Mexico and in South America:

“He is a hero whom I admire with all my heart.”

A Japanese spoke of Bicker’s work among the kimonowearers, describing how eagerly they had accepted the pure and noble doctrine; how grateful they were for his advice and teachings.

An Indian recited a poem, composed by a most famous Parsi literator to the glory of Edward’s noble endeavors.

An African described the orator’s long stay in the tropical part of the continent, at Bulawayo, the Victoria Falls and other parts of the Zambesi River. He told how natives used to play hymns of joy when the orator passed, and how he was considered a holy man. One of the natives had said of him:

“He is a star plucked from the sky.”

An inhabitant of Sydney told a story in which Edward had behaved like an ideal Christian; he described how the orator had been slandered in the papers, how he forgave his enemies and was at last accorded public acceptance in the most splendid way.

Sura listened, touched. A soft and tender light emanated from his eyes. Then he said with a trembling voice:

“After my departure, this faithful servant will reap the harvest of the seeds he has sown.”

He then looked at the list of names of all those present, reading them aloud and mentioning the country where they should go. Each bowed his head in sign of obedience.

Sura then left the hall, followed by his devotees. He stood, like a tall tree, for a long time in the darkness, looking into the distance, hands clasped. Those present awaited the sign that would send them away, wondering in what part of the universe Sura’s lofty thoughts were linger¬ ing at the moment. He was more than a man—teacher of Angels and Archangels, beloved of God; he was a cosmic being sent unto the human race to help give birth to a new instrument in God’s hand—humanity.

All watched him as he stood beside the sea, surrounded by the mysterious light which emanated from his heart.

Was he a human being?

Yes, he was. The assistants watched the majestic calm¬ ness of the rise and fall of his breath beneath his splendid garments.

Was he a god ?

He looked like a divine being.

Sura turned round and walked slowly to the place where a whole group of aeroplanes waited for their pas¬ sengers. He lingered as if expecting some message. His eyes were lifted toward the sky, where twinkled the stars with a kindly light.

He waited—waited.

Then suddenly his face was lighted by a glorious smile and he said with a kind voice:

“Be gone, my brethren, the time has come.”

Each hastened to his aeroplane and in less than ten minutes all were gone.

Sura watched them flying over the ocean, like red stars hastening toward a distant goal. When they had disap¬ peared, he slowly sat down, looking at the strange, and yet natural phenomenon of the hour: the sun, whose light could not, under the circumstances, disappear during the whole night. The orb continued its course round the horizon, lighting the brim of the sea with mysterious hues, without actually showing itself.

Sura sat motionless for a long time. What lofty thoughts burned behind that high forehead ? Probably thoughts relating to the immense task resting upon the shoulders of Sura, the Light-Bringer, a task which only he could accom¬ plish ; he, the leader of all spiritual movements of the world: the task of giving birth to humanity!

* * *

At the same moment, another great event took place in a distant part of the world.

The sun shed its splendid rays on the holy city of Benares, and the minarets of Aurangzeb’s mosque which dominates the river-scene, seemed to receive them with open arms. A wondrous cheerfulness reigned everywhere. The domes of the Golden Temple glittered with an unusual splendor and the sacred river Ganges seemed to flow with an increased speed, pushing its waves onward to the far-off ocean.

The population of the splendid town walked with quick¬ ened steps, laughing in an unusual tone, and irritating one another without plausible reason—a state of mind which must necessarily lead to some reaction.

And so it did! At a certain hour, the sky seemed to take fire. The sun shone through a thick red vapor, which soon enshrouded the entire city. An increasing unrest swept the country. The birds stopped singing; the flowers faded ; the fishes in the river jumped out of the water as if trying to flee some submarine foe. The corpses of the children floating on the surface of the Ganges, shivered. The dogs barked, and the tigers roared in their cages. Enormous birds of prey circled around the mosques, the monkeys of the Durga Temple voiced terrible shrieks and the priests ceased their bloody sacrifices.

The palaces of the Rajahs trembled. Trees became agitated without wind and the corn in the fields waved and shook as if animals were walking through it!

Suddenly the river was lashed into a fury; high waves appeared and dashed themselves against the “Ghats,” de¬ molishing the light structures along the banks and washing away the corpses that lay on burning piles close by. Even the quiet cows in the Golden Temple ceased eating flowers and attempted escape.

The people felt as if a great calamity were at hand and looked at one another with stupefied eyes. Suddenly a flash of lightning was seen in the distance, but no sound was heard.

Some hours later, all these extraordinary conditions abruptly ceased, as though by virtue of some strange en¬ chantment; the inhabitants of the city resumed their work and normal habits, and none was capable of explaining the recent phenomena.

* * *

What had happened ?

Asura had come down to oppose his brother Sura. Four miles farther, near Sarnath, an aeroplane had landed, bear¬ ing the great opposer. He alighted from his ship and walked with rapid, elastic step to the large hall, where his followers were waiting his arrival.

In a moment he had reached the throne and climbed the few steps to his chair. Then as he remained standing he looked at the assistants, all of whom were lying upon the floor, faces downward.

An awe-inspiring silence reigned in the room, and the sound of a distant quarrel in the town was heard.

Smiling despisingly, Asura looked a moment at the figures prostrate at his feet. Then through a hard, ironical laugh, he said:

“Stand up, cowards!”

And as if moved by a spring, those commanded stood on their feet.

Asura was a tall, beautiful man, revealing power and strength of mind and body. The first impression he gave was: “I never saw such a beautiful boy.” But looking nearer, one soon discovered that he was a grown man wdth well proportioned limbs and a body like an angel’s. His handsome, beardless face was shadowed by a profusion of curly, auburn hair, and a boyish smile lit his delicately molded features. His admirable forehead seemed actually radiant. His appearance was in every way that of an ideal hero.

The most glorious purity shone in the depth of his dark, smiling eyes.

Purity in that powerful, victorious man? Purity in the great opposer?

Yes, the most sincere purity lived in those deep, beautiful, inspiring eyes.

There can be no real heroism without purity. Purity is power, impurity is weakness.

Asura was a hero, though the most tragic of heroes.

His powerful, yet slender body and his mighty arms were capable of crushing all resistance. He was invincible —except by one.