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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
BEYOND
by
HENRY SEWARD HUBBARD
[Illustration]
Boston
Arena Publishing Company
Copley Square
1896
Copyrighted, 1896,
by
Henry Seward Hubbard.
All Rights Reserved.
Arena Press.
BEYOND
TO
LOVERS OF THE TRUTH,
WHATEVER
LAND MAY CLAIM THEM FOR ITS OWN,
TO THE
EARNEST MEN AND WOMEN
OF MY TIME,
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
A word of explanation in reference to my title may be appropriately
given here. By Beyond, I mean what is sometimes called the unseen world,
but which might better be called the immaterial world, since that which
distinguishes it from the world proper is not merely that it is
invisible, but that it cannot be made visible to mortal eyes.
However, I have not assumed to treat of all that the word might be made
to cover, but have confined myself mostly to that territory, with the
entrance to it, which may be said to adjoin the earth, and which
therefore is more immediately interesting and important to be acquainted
with, and have addressed myself especially to those who seem to be
constitutionally unable to perceive the reality of this other world,
although willing and anxious to be convinced.
If there is any one thing more than another which I hope to convey, it
is that the truths which pertain to the superior life do not conflict
with common sense, however they may rise beyond the perfect grasp of
that power of the mind.
HENRY SEWARD HUBBARD.
INTRODUCTION.
TO MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS,
Greeting.
I had known for some time that I had a book to write, but not exactly
how I was going to set about it, when there fell under my notice the
following appeal, whose unique and touching eloquence, I venture to say,
is without a parallel in our literature.
"There have always been those, and now they are more numerous than ever,
who maintain that the dead do return.
"Far be it from me to dogmatically negative the assertions of honest,
earnest men engaged in the study of a subject so awful, so reverent, so
solemn, where the student stands with a foot on each side of the
boundary-line between two worlds.
"We know a little of the hither, can we know aught of the thither
world?" 'How pure in heart, how sound in head, with what affections
bold,' should be the explorer on a voyage so sublime! Never from 'peak
of Darien' did the flag of exploration fly over the opening up of a
realm so mighty.
"How stale and trite the fleet of a Magellan to the adventurous soul who
would circumnavigate the archipelagoes of the dead!"
"How commonplace Pizarro to him who would launch forth on that black and
trackless Pacific across the expanse of which has ever lain the dread
and the hope of our race!"
"They know little who are robed in university gowns. What know they who
are robed in shrouds? We gather but little from the platform; what can
we learn from the grave? The wisdom of the press is foolishness. Is
there no voice from the sepulchre? It is we, not you, who are in
darkness, O ye dead! The splendor of the iris of eternity has flashed on
your plane of vision; but our heavy eyelids droop in the shadow of the
nimbus of time.
"Can you tell us naught? Can we never know your secret till, in the
dust, we lay down our bones with yours?"
"We are here in the care, the poverty, the sin, and, above all, in the
darkness. Oh, if ye can, have mercy on us; shed a ray from your
shekinah-light athwart the darkness of our desolation. We are trodden
down by our brothers among the living. Help us, our fathers from the
dead."[A]
How profoundly these words moved me cannot easily be told, for my entire
life, up to this point, seems to have been made up of the various stages
of a preparation enabling me to respond to just such an appeal as this,
echoed, as I know full well it is, from the hearts of thousands of my
fellow-beings. Yet one who should enter the rose-embowered cottage by
the sea where I sit writing, would never dream that I guard treasures of
knowledge gathered in the hidden realm that lies beyond the sense.
For years have passed, and lonely life has changed to family life, and
there have been times when I have felt almost at home again within the
confines of the purely earthly realm of thoughts and things. Not quite,
however, for that would be impossible. And now, shall I branch out in a
tale of strange adventure? Shall I seek to convey to my readers what led
to those experiences which have so isolated me in thought? Shall I
describe their outward aspect, the channel through which they were
received, as for instance, a dream, a trance, a vision, or _other ways
less known_?
To do so might amuse or entertain, but that is not my object. Besides, I
understand thoroughly that in these modern days it is the truth, and not
the truth-teller, that is wanted. If a man has anything to say, let him
say it, and if it bear the stamp of truth, if it will stand the test of
analysis the most severe, it will be accepted. If not, he may show a
ticket of his travels beyond the moon, but that will not avail him.
All that I ask of my readers is that they will permit me to write of
that realm which is so hidden from mortals that many of them deny its
very existence, as though I knew all about it. Whether I do or not, no
mere statement, in the absence of other evidence, could in the least
decide.
THE AUTHOR.
BEYOND.
CHAPTER I.
In the world of thought to-day, few things are more significant than the
extent to which the religious dogmas of the past are being questioned,
analyzed, and, in general, made to give account of themselves.
People are discovering that it is lawful to use the mind as a crucible,
and to submit any and all statements, irrespective of their age, to the
electric current of modern fearlessness of thought, before accepting
them as truth.
Scientific formulas, many of them, fare little better, and are made to
yield up the kernel of fact they contain, stripped of the husk of
theory in which it has long been buried.
For the living truth is demanded such value as we obtain in our own
life-experiences, if possible; and whenever this can be obtained without
paying the price it costs us in life, of pain, or loss, or a mortgaged
future, then, indeed, the demand becomes imperious.
And this has become especially true of late years in regard to things
occult. Formerly the boundaries of the earth-life marked the limit of
thought and aspiration, and those who seemed to have the widest
experience within those bounds were often the loudest in proclaiming
their utter failure to find any lasting satisfaction in all that life
could give. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, was echoed and re-echoed
until the gloomy thought spread like a cloud over the sky, chilling all
noble effort, and blighting the aspirations of the young and hopeful.
But a brighter day has dawned. These boundaries, which formerly seemed
like walls impenetrable, have grown thin and shadowy, and it is
astonishing to note how people everywhere are asking, as with open mind,
Is this future life we have heard of so long, an actual fact? If so,
what is the nature of it? What are its relations to present facts? and
how may I obtain a common-sense view of it? Just what are its relations
to me, and what are mine to a future life? Where can I obtain clear
light on the subject?
This condition of things brings it to pass that a peculiar
responsibility rests upon one, like the writer, to whom has been given
extraordinary facilities for acquiring the knowledge now so greatly in
demand. To relate what those facilities were, how or why given, and what
price in the currency of the hidden realm was paid for so much of its
treasures as was brought away, might interest the curious, as I have
suggested, but it would not materially affect the value of what is to be
given. That must stand or fall by its intrinsic worth, not by the
circumstances associated with its acquirement.
It may be imparted, however, that this knowledge was obtained at a
period separated from the present by an interval of fourteen years, that
so momentous were the personal experiences associated therewith, that
the few weeks during which they occurred, together with those
immediately preceding and following, seem to constitute, as it were, a
separate existence, whose length, if it were to be measured by such
events as leave their indelible impress on the soul, far exceeds the
entire remainder of my life.
That I have kept this knowledge locked up so long has been due to
various causes beyond my control, and I am more than glad that I am at
last able to put on record some fragments of it, at least, whose value I
do not underestimate, although very rarely in the history of the world
has it been given out in this way.