The Philosophy of Miromar

"Who knows? Miromar is not the only one who says so."

"Does he call it the end of the world?"

"No, no, it is the rebirth of the world —of the true world, the world as God meant it to he."

"It is a tremendous message. But what is amiss? Why should so dreadful a Judgment fall?"

"It is the materialism, the wooden formalities of the churches, the alienation of all spiritual impulses, the denial of the Unseen, the ridicule of this new revelation —these are the causes according to him."

"Surely the world has been worse before now?"

"But never with the same advantages —never with the education and knowledge and so-called civilization, which should have led it to higher things. Look how everything has been turned to evil. We got the knowledge of airships. We bomb cities with them. We learn how to steam under the sea. We murder seamen with our new knowledge. We gain command over chemicals. We turn them into explosives or poison gases. It goes from worse to worse. At the present moment every nation upon earth is plotting secretly how it can best poison the others. Did God create the planet for this end, and is it likely that He will allow it to go on from bad to worse?"

The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle

The Séance Conjures up a Pithecanthropus

'"Do you smell anything, Monsieur Mailey?"

Mailey sniffed the air.

"Yes, surely, it reminds me of our London Zoo."

"There is another more ordinary analogy. Have you been in a warm room with a wet dog?"

"Exactly," said Mailey. "That is a perfect description. But where is the dog?"

"It is not a dog. Wait a little! Wait!"

The animal smell became more pronounced. It was overpowering. Then suddenly Malone became conscious of something moving round the table. In the dim red light he was aware of a misshapen figure, crouching, ill-formed, with some resemblance to man. He silhouetted it against the dull radiance. It was bulky, broad, with a bullet-head, a short neck, and heavy, clumsy shoulders. It slouched slowly round the circle. Then it stopped, and a cry of surprise, not unmixed with fear, came from one of the sitters.

"Do not be alarmed," said Dr. Maupuis' quiet voice. "It is the Pithecanthropus. He is harmless." Had it been a cat which had strayed into the room the scientist could not have discussed it more calmly.'

Chapter 12, The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle

Seven Spheres

Mr Chang expounds on the topic of the seven spheres.

"There are seven spheres round the world, heaviest below, lightest above. First sphere is on the earth. These people belong to that sphere. Each sphere is separate from the other. Therefore it is easier for you to speak with these people than for those in any other sphere."

"And easier for them to speak to us?"

"Yes. That why you should be plenty careful when you do not know to whom you talk. Try the spirits."

"What sphere do you belong to, Chang?"

"I come from Number Four sphere."

"Which is the first really happy sphere?"

"Number Three. Summerland. Bible book called it the third heaven. Plenty sense in Bible book, but people do not understand."

And the seventh heaven?"

"Ah! That is where the Christs are. All come there at last —you, me, everybody."

"And after that?"

"Too much question, Mr. Mailey. Poor old Chang not know so much as that.

Chapter 10, The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle

Quote for The Land of Mist

"Let's have the yarn," said Lord Roxton, munching at a sandwich.

"He was there away back in Queen Victoria's time. I've seen him myself. A long, stringy, dark-faced kind of man, with a round back and a queer, shuffling way of walking. They say he had been in India all his life, and some thought he was hiding from some crime, for he would never show his face in the village and seldom came out till after dark. He broke a dog's leg with a stone, and there was some talk of having him up for it, but the people were afraid of him, and no one would prosecute. The little boys would run past, for he would sit glowering and glooming in the front window. Then one day he didn't take the milk in, and the same the next day, and so they broke the door open, and he was dead in his bath —but it was a bath of blood, for he opened the veins of his arm. Tremayne was his name. No one here forgets it."

Chapter 8, The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle

A Host of Characters-Professor Challenger-ETC

As to speaking of the entering Professor Challenger's “study-thrown” while he is in study:

“Servants would hardly dare to enter the room where glooming and glowering; the maned and bearded head looked up from his papers as a lion from a bone. Even his own daughter, Enid could dare him at such a time, and even she felt occasionally that sinking of the heart which the bravest of tamers may experience as he unbars the gate of the cage.”

The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle

Quote from Chapter 4, The Land of Mist

“ ‘There is some poor fellow here.’

‘He was a cleric, and very narrow, bigoted one; this growth of his own mental seed sown upon earth-sown in ignorance and reaped in misery.’

‘What is a miss with him?’

‘He does not know he is dead. He walks in the mist. It is all an evil dream to him. He has been many years so. To him it seems an eternity.’"

Chapter 4, The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle

A Host of Characters-The Land of Mist’s, Mr. Chang

Mr. John Terbane was the medium or channel for several disembodied spirits that evening, one being the venerable Mr. Chang.

“They were not long in coming. Terbane suddenly sat up, his dreamy self transformed into a very alert and masterful individuality. A subtle change had passed over his ace. An ambiguous smile fluttered upon his lips, his eye seemed more oblique and less open, his face projected. The two hands were thrust into the sleeves of his blue lounge jacket.

"Good evening," said he, speaking crisply and in short staccato sentences. "New faces! Who these?"

"Good evening, Chang," said the master of the house.

"You know Mr. Mason. This is Mr. Malone who studies our subject. This is Lord Roxton who has helped me to-day."

As each name was mentioned, Terbane made a sweeping Oriental gesture of greeting, bringing his hand down from his forehead. His whole bearing was superbly dignified and very different from the humble little man who had sat down a few minutes before.

"Lord Roxton!" he repeated. "An English milord! I knew Lord —Lord Macart No —I —I cannot say it. Alas I I called him 'foreign devil' then. Chang, too, had much to learn."

"He is speaking of Lord Macartney. That would be over a hundred years ago. Chang was a great living philosopher then," Mailey explained.

"Not lose time!" cried the control. "Much to do to-day. Crowd waiting. Some new, some old. I gather strange folk in my net. Now I go." He sank back among the cushions. A minute elapsed, then he suddenly sat up.

"I want to thank you," he said, speaking perfect English. "I came two weeks ago. I have thought over all you said. The path is lighter."

"Were you the spirit who did not believe in God?"

‘Yes, yes! I said so in my anger. I was so weary —so weary. Oh, the time, the endless time, the grey mist, the heavy weight of remorse! Hopeless! Hopeless! And you brought me comfort, you and this great Chinese spirit. You gave me the first kind words I have had since I died.’

The Land of Mist, Arthur Conan Doyle