The Vision and the Voice

THE VISION AND THE VOICE to be nine such pylons. And in the centre is a shrine, a cir- cular table, supported by marble figures of men and women, alternate white and black; they face inwards, and their buttocks are almost worn away by the kisses of those who have come to worship that supreme God, who is the single end of all those diverse religions. But the shrine itself is higher than a man may reach. But the Angel that was with me lifted me, and I saw that the edge of the altar, as I must call it, was surrounded by holy men. Each has in his right hand a weapon—one a sword, one a spear, one a thunderbolt, and so on, but each with his left hand gives the sign of silence. I wish to see what is within their ring. One of them bends forward so that I may whisper the pass-word. The Angel prompts me to whisper: “There is no god.” So they let me pass, and though there was indeed nothing visible therein, yet there was a very strange atmosphere, which I could not understand. Suspended in the air there is a silver star, and on the forehead of each of the guardians there is a silver star. It is a pentagram,—because, says the Angel, three and five are eight; three and eight are eleven. (There is another numerical reason that I cannot hear.) And as I entered their ring, they bade me stand in their circle, and a weapon was given unto me. And the pass-word that I had given seems to have been whispered round from one to the other, for each one nods gravely as if in solemn acquiescence, until the last one whispers the same words in my ears. But they have a different sense. I had taken them to be a denial of the existence of God, but the man who says them to me evidently means nothing of the sort: What he Iv Rk 129