Because even the most wise dead can but arrange their memories as we
arrange pieces upon a chess-board and obey remembered words alone, he who
would turn magician is forbidden by the Zoroastrian oracle to change
"barbarous words" of invocation. Communication with _Anima Mundi_ is
through the association of thoughts or images or objects; and the famous
dead and those of whom but a faint memory lingers, can still--and it is
for no other end that, all unknowing, we value posthumous fame--tread the
corridor and take the empty chair. A glove or a name can call their
bearer; the shadows come to our elbow amid their old undisturbed
habitations, and "materialisation" itself is easier, it may be, among
walls, or by rocks and trees, that carry upon them particles the vehicles
cast off in some extremity while they had still animate bodies.
Certainly the mother returns from the grave, and with arms that may be
visible and solid, for a hurried moment, can comfort a neglected child or
set the cradle rocking; and in all ages men have known and affirmed that
when the soul is troubled, those that are a shade and a song:
"live there,
And live like winds of light on dark or stormy air."