The Magic Mirror


part 1




It all started in the Louvre in Paris. For those of you who don't know the museum, it is probably the most famous in the world. The Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo are there, as well as many other great paintings and sculptures. To see everything inside would take several days.

As the story starts we meet a young woman about 17 years old, named Teresa. She is from-I'm not sure where, not America, Europe, but not France. Let's say Teresa is Polish. Teresa is visiting Paris alone and like most visitors goes to the Louvre. Right away she notices the artists who work at the Louvre copying the paintings of great masters of the past. On any given day at the Louvre, there might be twenty or thirty artists at work copying. Some are students, many are quite accomplished artists. Most are extremely good. But there is one artist in particular who catches her attention. He is copying da Vinci's The Virgin of the Rocks, which depicts Mary with the infant Christ and John the Baptist in the care of an angel. They are sitting in the shadow of a grotto. A mysterious vista, which gives the illusion of the dawn of time, extends behind the grotto. The painting, although not da Vinci's most famous, is one of the most significant in Western art, and my personal favorite. The angel in particular has a beautiful radiance--it is as if da Vinci caught her soul with his paints. It is a painting you can stare at for hours and see something new each minute.

Teresa is intrigued by the painting, and even more so by the artist who is copying it. Because his painting seems to be every bit as good as da Vinci's. Also, he is a striking young man, not much older than herself, and at the time Teresa was very lonely. Like I said, she came to Paris by herself, but this was because she was an orphan. She strikes up a conversation with the artist and learns his name is Herme. But she's not sure if Herme is French because he doesn't have a French accent. In fact, she can't place his accent and asks him where he is from. But Herme evades the question.

Herme has a good reason for not telling her where he is from. If he did she would think was crazy. You see, Herme is not a human being, but an angel. He is a particular angel we would call a "muse." I believe it was the ancient Greeks who invented the term. A muse inspires our great writers, painters, poets, and musicians. Herme had been da Vinci's muse when the artist was alive, and also Raphael's and Michelangelo's. In a sense their creations were his. But in this age there is no artist capable of tuning into Herme's inspiration, and so he passed his days copying at the Louvre. He could only work on the physical plane, appear as a human being and paint, while he at the museum. If he left the Louvre, he was just like any other angel, and people wouldn't know he was there. But it was a thrill for Herme to be seen by humans, to be able to talk and ask questions. God had given him this special opportunity because of the great work he had done in the past.

In the same way Teresa liked Herme, he liked her. Her face intrigued him--he had an artist's eye for faces. Her eyes were warm and gentle, her mouth touched with sadness. Her voice, also, intrigued him because Teresa could sound like an innocent child and a wise woman in the same sentence. She was beautiful, and he was so taken by her that he suggested they have lunch together in a museum cafe, an invitation which Teresa readily accepted. Herme put aside his paints and his canvas and walked with her down the museum's long halls, pointing out various painting and telling her stories about the artists, personal things like how van Gogh cut off his ear and gave it to a prostitute or how Michelangelo didn't really like to paint but only wanted to sculpt. He told her other things that even the experts wouldn't know about the artists. Teresa was fascinated by his knowledge and his soft manner. I guess it goes without saying that Herme was nicer than your average person. It was his love that shone in many of the works of the artists he had helped. He was also attractive by human standards, with long brown hair, an austere face, and big fine hands. But his clothes were simple: white pants and a blue shirt. He wore no watch, or anything like that He didn't have a wallet, for that matter, and when they reached the snack bar and picked up their food, he was embarrassed. He had to apologize that he had no money. But she didn't mind paying for the food, even though she had little money of her own.

So they talked and ate and Herme learned a great deal about Teresa, although Teresa leaned almost nothing about Herme except that he was a great artist and knew art history like a scholar. Teresa was sensitive and knew somehow that Herme was like no human being she had ever met. By the time lunch was through, she was in love with him, and Herme, being an angel, could see into her heart and knew her love was genuine. And for him it was special because even though he lived in the constant glow of God's love, a secret part of him craved human affection. He had worked with humans for so many centuries that a part of him had become human. Maybe more than a part. When it was time for Teresa to leave the Louvre, he felt lonely. She promised to come see him the next day.
At noon the next day, there she was, as Herme was putting the final touches on his copy of The Virgin of the Rocks. Teresa couldn't get over how talented he was, and she went so far as to say his painting was better than da Vinci's. But Herme quickly corrected her that it only looked better because his paints were fresh. In reality Herme never tried to surpass the works of the artists he had helped, although privately he thought that he could. They ate lunch together again, and once more Teresa paid, which made Herme feel uncomfortable because he wanted to take care of Teresa. She told him of her plans to go to America and dropped not-so-subtle hints about how much money he could make in America with his talent. Her enthusiasm was infectious and Herme had to stop to remind himself that he wasn't flesh and blood. That reality hit him painfully when Teresa asked him to go with her to see a movie. He told her he had to stay to finish his work, but Teresa, stubborn at times, tried hard to talk him into it, which made him feel worse. He finally had to give her a firm no, which she misinterpreted, thinking that he didn't care for her. Just before she left, he asked if she would come to see him the next day, and she promised she would.
The following afternoon went much the same as the previous two, except their feelings for each other were more intense. Once more Teresa wanted Herme to leave the museum with her. But he said he couldn't, not until later. She wanted to know how much later-- She was willing to come back for him. When he said that would not be possible, she began to suspect that he had another woman or that he was married. But he assured her that was not the case, even without her having voiced her suspicion. That caught her off comment as a coincidence. guard, that he seemed capable of reading her mind, but he quickly smoothed over his comment.

Poor Teresa didn't know what to think. She had met this wonderful guy but he seemed unnaturally attached to a museum. He wouldn't tell her where he lived, how he got to work, if he had any other family. Really, when she thought about it, she realized he had told her nothing about himself, only about the artists whose paintings hung in the great halls. Herme could read her mind and he knew he couldn't have her come back day after day to see him. He realized that he was going to lose her and that brought him more pain than he had ever known, the first real pain he had ever experienced. He made her promise that she would visit him the next day, and this she did, but there was a reluctance in her voice. The fact of Herme asking for her promise-his asking for anything-was very unlike him. Because he was an angels simply gave, and asked for nothing in return.

That night, alone in the Louvre, Herme prayed to God to allow him to leave the museum and go out with Teresa. He prayed for many hours, and then, suddenly, he felt a great warmth enter his soul, and he knew that God had granted his prayer. But simultaneously he realized that when he left the museum he would never return to it as an angel. He would become entirely human and lose his angelic powers. But this he was willing to do for the love of his Teresa. I say his Teresa and that's what I mean. Already he believed he would have Teresa with him for the rest of the life he had chosen.

The next day she came for him, and Herme left the Louvre. He walked outside into bright sunlight, Teresa's hand in his, and laughed out loud. He was so happy, so much in love. He thought it would last forever, but of course he had never been mortal before. When Herme left the Louvre with Teresa he realized he had no place to stay except with her. Even though Teresa was in love with him, she hadn't realized that when she invited him to come with her she was picking up a roommate. Teresa had no home either-she was staying at a youth hostel. You can sleep in them at night real cheap, but you have to be gone by nine in the morning, and you can't come back until sunset. They're often crowed and uncomfortable, and the one Teresa was staying in was particularly small. On top of all that Herme, of course, didn't have a cent or centime. He didn't own any clothes except the ones he had on. Teresa was puzzled by the lack of things, but she was so in love with him that she chose to help him as best she could. She was just happy to be with him because Herme's joy was a thing of great wonder. Teresa knew it wouldn't be long before Herme made a name for himself as a famous artist. But she wasn't with him because she knew he would be a success. But it had crossed her mind a number of times, which was natural-she was, after all, a poor young woman in need of some stability in life

At the youth hostel Teresa had to pay for both of them. In the morning she had to buy them breakfast. Herme really wanted breakfast because even though he had eaten with her in the Louvre he had done so to be polite, not because he was hungry. Now he was starving. He ate with great relish because everything tasted good to him. Teresa decided their first priority was to get Herme a job. She took Herme to a portrait studio where people came to have paintings of themselves and their families commissioned. But Herme had no samples of his work to show the man who owned the place. He couldn't very well point to a da Vinci as one of his works. The man told Herme to come back when he had something to show him. Teresa was disappointed, though. She was going through her meager amount of money very quickly.

But Paris is a wonderful city for artists, and walking along the streets Herme noticed many painters doing portraits right on the sidewalks. He told Teresa he would like to do that to make a living. Herme enjoyed being outside: the fresh air, the fall of the rain, the birds singing in the trees-everything was a delight to him. The only problem was that to buy supplies for Herme would exhaust the remainder of Teresa's money. But her faith in him was such that she got him what he needed: an easel, a chair, a few brushes, oils, and canvases. Herme set up his easel by a busy corner not far from the Louvre. Although he was happy to be outside the museum, he liked to see it. It reassured him in some way he didn't fully understand. Herme quickly attracted clients, his skill was so great, his personality so delightful. The word went around about him and he had plenty of work, but it wasn't as if he made huge sums of money. If Paris is a haven for artists, it is also one of the most competitive places on earth for them to work. Herme could do wonderful portraits, but he was forced to hurry them. It was not the way he was used to working. In the past he had always molded painting slowly. As a result of his working quickly the quality of his work suffered, although it was still far above most of what was being done. After a couple of mouths working on the street, Teresa had saved enough of his money to open up a studio for him. It was Teresa who took care of all the business details--Herme had no head for money. But he was happy with his life. He was still so much in love with Teresa. Kissing her, touching her-These things were so new and exciting to him that he didn't for a moment regret his decision to become mortal.
With a studio he was able to settle into a routine, which didn't help his work. He missed being outside, and he soon tired of doing simple portraits. He was an ex-angel who helped to inspire the greatest paintings known to mankind. He wanted to branch out and paint other things, but Teresa told him that was not possible. He had clients booked mouths in advance, and she had already taken deposits from them and he had to paint them-end of discussion. Herme went along with her advice because he understood she knew much more about the would then he did. Also, he disliked disagreeing with her because she could be stubborn and she would argue until she got her way. During this time the two of them began to make substantial money, even though they were still far from rich. Teresa found them a nice apartment in a rich section of town and furnished it with antiques. Herme continued to work each day, often on the weekends as well, and did one portrait after another. Then for the first time he began to receive complaints about his work. People were no longer impressed by everything he did-the reasons varied. He had began charge more money, or Teresa had, and naturally the demands of his client had gone up. These people were paying more and they expected to get more in return. Also, as I already mentioned, he was taking on too many clients and was having to rush. Finally, though, and probably the main reason was that he was beginning to feel stale and uninspired. It was the unseen qualities that Herme had always brought out in his subjects that made his portraits so special. Now he was painting only what he saw on the surface.

"Teresa would hear the complaints and in turn complained to Herme that he had to do better. But when he told her he needed a change of scenery she was open to the idea. Teresa had not given up on her dream of going to America, and she suggested to Herme that they move to New York. He was delighted, even though it would mean he'd be leaving the Louvre, possibly forever. He continued to go back to the museum when he wasn't feeling his best, and would wander its long halls, gazing upon past glories. He still loved Teresa as much as ever, and he could see she still loved him, but he wasn't as happy as he had been the day he left the museum. He wondered if it was because their love had lost much of its spontaneity, its enthusiasm. He wasn't sure because he could no longer see into Teresa's heart-into anybody's heart-as well as he had been able to in the past."

"They sold their studio and apartment and moved to New York City, and for a time things were better between them. Herme was not working at first and they were able to spend more time together. Their romance underwent a brief revival, but then suddenly it swung the other way. Teresa was not used to having Herme around constantly, and he had taken up the bad habit of clinging to her, something Teresa couldn't stand. Of course Herme only began to cling to her when he felt her withdrawing. He had no previous experience in human relationships. He thought the best way to combat her waning love was to pour more her way. But this made him act strained around her, and Herme's greatest charm had always been his natural spontaneity, his ease in every situation. Now that charm was failing him and he didn't know how to act."

"Teresa wanted Herme to start working again, but he was reluctant to do portraits. He wanted to get outside to capture the many natural tapestries the earth had to offer. He also wanted to try more abstract works. What this did was put him in competition with thousands of other struggling artists in America. He was giving up his area of expertise in favor of his ideals. It goes without saying that his decision didn't thrill Teresa. She argued that they were going through their savings and that she was not going back to living hand to mouth. In fact, she said that he owed her, that she had given him his start when he had had nothing. Herme was incapable of responding to her accusations, except by withdrawing more and more. He took to going for long walks through New York City late at night. Many times he wouldn't return home until the sun was up."

"But one night he came back early and found Teresa was not alone. Despite everything that had happened to him since he had left the Louvre, he was still incredibly naive. He had never imagined that his Teresa could want another man. It was a nightmare for Herme. He saw the man, yet he only focused on Teresa. But what could she say to him? She just swore and turned her head away. Herme didn't know what to do. He walked out of his apartment. Always, even since becoming mortal, he had felt a light inside that guided his movements. But now that light had gone out and he found the darkness unbearable. He wandered into sections of New York he had never been to before, part where it was as easy to buy a knife in the back as a handful of drugs. He hoped someone would attack him, shoot him, stab him, put him out of his misery. But no one came near him because he was in such despair. It was as if he weren't human anymore, merely a wraith sent from the netherworld to haunt humanity. He felt that way, a stain on the planet. He walked until he reached Brooklyn Bridge and moved out to the center of it, above the icy winter water. He climbed over the rail and he stared down. He saw nothing beneath him except blackness and felt nothing above him. But he didn't call out to God or pray for release. He was past the point of caring, so he thought. He planned to kill himself and be done with it.

"Yet just before he jumped he remembered back to the day he had first left the Louvre: his joy, his excitement, and most of all, his love. And he wondered where it had gone , and if Teresa had as much to do with what he had lost as he believed. For he understood in that moment that it was his love that had made Teresa wonderful in his eyes. He understood that something inside him-and not just the outside circumstances-had changed. But what had that change been? It seemed obvious. He had been an angel and had become mortal. He had been divine and had become human. But he wondered, as he stood on the rail of the bridge above the the freezing water if it was not possible for a human to become divine, if it was a two-way process. It was a funny thought, one he had never had before. But it touched him in some deep part of his soul. Yes, he felt he had a soul again. He climbed off the rail and back onto the main part of the bridge. He looked at the sky, seeing the stars shine through the smog above, and he felt blessed.


**this story is continued by clicking HERE


and then.........