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The Spiritist Review - Journal of Psychological Studies - 1863 > July > Earthly Atonement Max, the beggar
Around 1850 in Bavaria, an almost centenary old man known as Father Max died. Nobody knew for sure what his origin was since he had no family. For about half a century, constantly challenged by problems that made it difficult for him to support himself through work, he had no other resource but to appeal to public charity where he disguised himself by going to farms and castles to sell almanacs and small objects.
He was given the nickname Count Max and the children only called him Mr. Count after which he smiled and took no offense. Why the title? Nobody knew since it was a name that passed on through the years. It could perhaps be for his manners and physiognomy whose distinction were in contrast with his rags.
Several years after his death he appeared in the dreams of the daughter of a castle proprietor where he used to stay at the horse’s stable since he was homeless. He told her: “Thank you for having remembered the poor old Max in your prayers for they were heard by the Lord. You wanted to know who I was, charitable soul that took care of the unfortunate beggar. I will satisfy you and this will be a great lesson to everybody.”
He then provided the report below with more or less the following terms:
He was given the nickname Count Max and the children only called him Mr. Count after which he smiled and took no offense. Why the title? Nobody knew since it was a name that passed on through the years. It could perhaps be for his manners and physiognomy whose distinction were in contrast with his rags.
Several years after his death he appeared in the dreams of the daughter of a castle proprietor where he used to stay at the horse’s stable since he was homeless. He told her: “Thank you for having remembered the poor old Max in your prayers for they were heard by the Lord. You wanted to know who I was, charitable soul that took care of the unfortunate beggar. I will satisfy you and this will be a great lesson to everybody.”
He then provided the report below with more or less the following terms:
“About a century and a half ago I was a rich and powerful owner in this region but frivolous, proud and fatuous of my nobility. My immense fortune served nothing but to my own pleasures of gambler, lewd, spending time in orgies. My vassals were servants that I used like animals in the farm just to serve my luxuriousness. I was deaf to their laments as those of all unfortunate people and in my opinion they should feel much honored for serving my whims. I died early, worn out by the excesses but without having experienced any true hardship. On the contrary, everything seemed to smile to me to the point that people saw me as one of those happy persons in the world. My condition rendered me a pompous funeral; the baggy ones were sorry for the portentous master but not a single tear was dropped in my tomb; not a single heart felt prayer was said in my behalf and my memory was damned by all those whose misery I had aggravated. Ah! How miserable the malediction of those that we make unfortunate! It never stopped vibrating in my ears for long years that seemed like eternity to me! The death of each one of my victims would bring a new threatening or sarcastic figure to my face, incessantly chasing me without a hiding place. No friendly sight. My former friends of debauch, now miserable like me, ran away from me as if saying with disdain: “You can no longer pay for our pleasures.”
Oh! How much I would have paid for an instant of rest, for a glass of water to quench the scorching thirst that devoured me! But I had nothing on me anymore and all the gold that I had spread on Earth had not brought me a single blessing. Not one, my child, hear me out!
Then, finally abated by fatigue and worn out like a wasted traveler that cannot see the end of the journey, I exclaimed:
Oh! How much I would have paid for an instant of rest, for a glass of water to quench the scorching thirst that devoured me! But I had nothing on me anymore and all the gold that I had spread on Earth had not brought me a single blessing. Not one, my child, hear me out!
Then, finally abated by fatigue and worn out like a wasted traveler that cannot see the end of the journey, I exclaimed:
- My God! Have mercy on me! When will this horrible situation end?
- Whenever you wish.
- What must I do, great God? I responded. Tell me! I will do whatever it takes.
- You need to repent; you need to humiliate yourself before those that were humiliated by you; you must ask them to intervene in your name because God is pleased by the prayer of the offended one who forgives.
- I humiliated myself and begged my vassals that were there, before me, and whose faces gradually more benevolent ended up by disappearing. Then it was like a new life to me. Hope replaced despair and I thanked God with all the strength of my soul. The voice then said:
- Prince!
- I responded: There is no Prince here other than the Almighty God that humiliate the proud ones. Forgive me Lord for I have sinned. Turn me into a servant of my servants if that is your will.
Then I heard a voice, the first after having left Earth that said:
A few years later I was born again, but his time into a family of poor peasants. My parents died when I was still a child and I was left alone in the world, without support. I made my living as I could, sometimes as a worker, sometimes as a servant in a farm, but always honestly because this time I believed in God. At the age of 40 I was taken ill by a disease that paralyzed all my members forcing me to beg for another fifty years in the same land that I had been the absolute owner; I had to ask for a piece of bread in farms that had been mine and where, out of bitter irony, I had been given the title of Mr. Count; many times, I felt happy in the stables of the castle that had been mine.
In my dreams, I enjoyed visiting the same castle that I commanded like a tyrant. How many times I saw myself in my dreams amidst the former fortune! Those visions would bring me an indefinable feeling of bitterness and sorrow when I woke up, but I never complained and when God felt that it was time to take me back I praised Him for having given me the courage of enduring this long and painful trial without moaning and whose reward I receive now. And you, my child, I give you my blessings for having prayed for me.”
OBSERVATIONS: We refer this case to those who pretend that people would no longer have brakes if they did not have to face the challenges from eternal penalties, asking them if the perspective of a punishment like that of Father Max is less able to stop evil than that of the endless tortures in which people no longer believe.
A few years later I was born again, but his time into a family of poor peasants. My parents died when I was still a child and I was left alone in the world, without support. I made my living as I could, sometimes as a worker, sometimes as a servant in a farm, but always honestly because this time I believed in God. At the age of 40 I was taken ill by a disease that paralyzed all my members forcing me to beg for another fifty years in the same land that I had been the absolute owner; I had to ask for a piece of bread in farms that had been mine and where, out of bitter irony, I had been given the title of Mr. Count; many times, I felt happy in the stables of the castle that had been mine.
In my dreams, I enjoyed visiting the same castle that I commanded like a tyrant. How many times I saw myself in my dreams amidst the former fortune! Those visions would bring me an indefinable feeling of bitterness and sorrow when I woke up, but I never complained and when God felt that it was time to take me back I praised Him for having given me the courage of enduring this long and painful trial without moaning and whose reward I receive now. And you, my child, I give you my blessings for having prayed for me.”
OBSERVATIONS: We refer this case to those who pretend that people would no longer have brakes if they did not have to face the challenges from eternal penalties, asking them if the perspective of a punishment like that of Father Max is less able to stop evil than that of the endless tortures in which people no longer believe.