A few weeks of balmy spring air and soft sunshine completely restored
me to health.
One day when strolling in company with Mr. Bristed through a path
blooming with early hyacinths and crocuses, I ventured to ask him about
my school.
“It is entirely broken up, Agnes. After the fearful tragedy that
transpired within its walls, your pupils scattered like dust in
the wind. I arrived the next morning after the death of Richard,
unconscious of what had occurred in my absence, but intending to take
you home with me. I found you, as I then thought, on your death-bed. I
settled with your separate teachers, and closed the school. With the
French woman who claimed to be Richard’s wife, and with whom he had
probably gone through the form of marriage, as with you, I made an
arrangement satisfactory to her to sell the property and give her an
equivalent for its value.”
“But what motive,” I asked hesitatingly, “could Richard have had for
his course?”
“Motive? The same that had actuated him through life. With you, Agnes,
he would have lived probably as he did with others, until his versatile
heart demanded a change. Then, with your little estate in his hands and
Herbert’s property in his power, he would have deserted you for some
new beauty.
“But let the grave cover his mistakes and evils. I believe that a
good God will not punish him too severely for propensities which he
inherited.”
Once more I yielded to the charms of companionship and love. Severe
trials had proved Mr. Bristed’s worth, and when he again asked me to
make the remnant of his life happy by my care and love--to become his
wife, and share his home, and reign queen of his heart--I consented.
When the June roses blossomed, we were married. The balmy air and
opening buds spoke of a new life. They typified my new life, truly. The
glitter and gloss which had deceived me in youth would never beguile me
more. I had learned that it was not the external man, but the internal
that was worthy of love.
The shadowy form of Alice never troubled me again, I believe reparation
can be made beyond the tomb, and that in some far-off world the
new-born spirit of Richard atones to Alice and Herbert for the wrong he
did them in this.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
_TO HER HUSBAND_.
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
You cannot see her in her glad surprise,
Kissing the tear-drops from your weeping eyes;
Moving about you through the ambient air,
Smoothing the whitening ripples of your hair.
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
You cannot see the flowers she daily twines
In garlands for you, from immortal vines;
The danger she averts you never know;
For her sweet care you only tears bestow.
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
Vainly you’ll wait until the last trump sound!
Vainly your love entombed beneath the ground!
Vainly in kirk-yard raise your mournful wail!
Your loved is living in some sunnier vale.
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
You think her gone to her eternal rest,
Like some strange bird forever left her nest!
Her sweet voice hush’d within the silent grave,
While o’er her dust the weeping willows wave.
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
And yet she lives, and loves! Oh, wondrous truth!
In golden skies she breathes immortal youth!
Look upward! where the roseate sunset beams,
Her airy form amid the brightness gleams!
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
Oh, speak not thus! her tender heart you grieve,
And ’twixt her love and yours a barrier weave!
Call her by sweetest name, your voice she’ll hear,
And through the darkness like a star appear.
Dead! dead! You call her dead!
Lift up your eyes! she is no longer dead!
In your lone path the unseen angels tread!
And when your weary night of earth shall close,
She’ll lead you where eternal summer blows.
ARTEMUS WARD.
_AND OUT OF PURGATORY._
ARTEMUS WARD’S LECTURES TO POOR, PERISHING HUMANITY.
LECTER I.
You’ll remember, relatives and nabors, how I crost the Atlantic Ocean
and never agin set foot on my native soil. I naterally thought my
opportunities there, in the British Mooseum and with those Egyptian
Carcusses dun up in rags, and remaining for the space of six days
and six nights with a skeleton grinning at me and pointing its long
skinless fingers in my face and looking in an awful licentious manner,
showing its pivoted legs--I say I naterally thought such an unheard-of
experience would have prepared me for “the awful change” that follered.
But it didn’t.
One nite, cummin’ hum from the Mooseum, where I had been instructin’
and elevatin’ several thousand pussons, male and female, I innocently
swallered a fog--swallered it hull. I’d bin swallerin on ’em ever since
I’d bin in England, but that night I took in a bigger one than ever,
and it made me _sick_.
I sent for the physicians that received the patronage of the
noble lords and dooks and they made me _sicker_; and finally for
the physicain “to her most gracious majisty the Queen of Great
Britain,”--but their aristocratic attention to me was of no use. As I
lie tossing on what is known as “the bed of pain,” I seed a big light
coming through the dark towards me. Behind that light appeared a grim
skeleton, just like the pictur of Death in the Alminack, walkin’ on
tiptoe toward me; and quicker than a wink he put out his long bony
hand and touched me--firstly, in the pit of the stomach, so I couldn’t
holler; nextly, he pressed his finger tips on my eye-balls, and they
sunk right back into their sockets.
I tried to shake him off, and to yell, but I couldn’t! Then I knew I
was “dun fur.” Next came what a printer’s devil would call a ---- blank.
I was skeered out of my seven senses, and when I cum to and tried to
recolect myself, I was like the old woman in the song who fell asleep,
and
“By came a pedlar and his name was Stout
And he cut her petticoats all round about;
He cut her petticoats up to her knees,
Which made the old woman begin for to freeze.”
I was in the same predicament, for I was now only in my bare bones, and
knew I was a rolecking old skeleton.
Wall, it gin me an awful shock to find myself like a skull and
cross-bones on a tombstone, sittin’ on my own coffin!
Presently I was grappled by a big worm with a hundred legs. He then
sent for his feller worms, and they licked me from skull to toe-jint.
After I had stood the lickin’ as long as I could (they tickled so),
I concluded to run away, so I started on a full gallop, and arter
I had run awhile, where should I fetch up but in the vicinity of
Vic’s Palace. I know’d by pussonal experience suthin’ of the feelin’
manner with which the British public look upon the Royal Family, and
a sensation of relief cum over my mind as I thought if I once entered
their ground no one dared foiler me. So I gin a spring and leaped right
atop of the middle chimny. Owin’ to private considerations, I did’nt
mind the soot, but I clambered down, and there I was, to my amazement,
rite in the private apartments of the Queen. She was sittin’ at a table
lookin’ at a dogerotipe of Prince Albert; and I walked straight up to
her, not feel in’ a bit afeared, and making my manners, axed her if I
didn’t resemble the Prince?--rememberin’ that the preacher had kindly
said over my coffin that “there was no distinction in the grave.”
I thought that as I was a pooty gay image of Death, I might remind her
of the “Prince Consort.”
She looked up kinder sideways as I spoke, but she must have bin a
leetle hard o’ hearing, for she shook her head.
Then I thought I’d try her on another tack. So I placed my hands on
my shakey knees, and bendin’ over in this guise, so she could see me
plainly, while my teeth rattled in my skull as I shook my head at her
and growled:
“Haint you afeared of me, Madam?” With the pirsistent obstinacy of the
feminine gender, she refused to notice me. So I thought she was kinder
“set up on her pins,” and I shouted louder:
“Victoria _Brown_! Aint you afeared of me? Aint you afeared I’ll tell
Prince Albert of your _dooins_?”
At that she gin an awful yell, and flung herself down upon a yaller
satin divan, trimed with gold, and slobbered it all over with tears.
I know’d then I had a “_mission to perform_,” and that my fleshless
bones were not given me for useless pleasure, but as a “warnin’ to my
race.”
Arter this adventer I left the palace as I had entered it, “leavin’ not
a trace behind me.”
Since that affair, I have bin goin’ about “doin’ good,” frightnin’ the
wicked into fits, and follerin’ in the steps of the parsen, and thus
working my way out of Purgatory.
LECTER II.
ARTEMUS WARD.--OUT OF PURGATORY.
Relatives and nabors,--Thinkin’ you’ll, like to know whether I’d bin
roastin’ in brimstone, along with Solomen and Lot’s wife, and that you
might feel consarned to know sumthin’ about my further adventers, I’ll
continoo.
One mornin’ soon after this, havin’ spent a restless nite, I was
thinkin’ what I had best do, when I seed, cumin’ rite out of a big
marble edifice, a nice little woman about as raw-boned as myself. As
she carried an open paper in her hand which was certified to by two
bishops and three clergeymen that she’d bin baptised and her sins
washed away, I felt it would be safe for me to foller her, knowin’ I
had no such dockerment to admit me into the good graces of Abraham or
Peter, or whatever porter might keep the gates of Paradise.
She seemed kinder skeered and tremblin’ like for a minit, not knowin’
what to do; then with a sudden start she spread herself out just like
the eagel of Ameriky, and soared rite up into the sky with nothin’ to
histe her by. I felt in my heart to foller her, and spread out just as
she did, keeping near her on the sly.
As she went on she began to shine like a star, shootin’ on through the
azure heavens for all the world like a sky-rocket.
That put me on my pluck, and I bust out just like a sky-rocket too. My
blazers! If it didn’t make my head spin.
When I collected my idees, I thought I’d look and see if I resembled
a glow-worm behind, and there, by thunder, was a long stream of
light, just like the tail of a comet! I tell you, I felt happy! She’s
regenerated me, thought I; and I, too, am one of the “shining hosts”!
And then directly, without any warnin’ or noise of any kind, all around
began to look about the color of a yaller sun-flower, and I began to
scent a powerful smell of roses and violets.
The female sank down in the golden air, and I kept cluss beside her,
and as she kept droppin’ she suddenly changed, like the old woman in
the fairy-book, into a bouncin’ girl, the very pictur of the goddess of
liberty!
Arter this, she turned and smiled on me. She looked just like alabaster
cream; the most dazzlingest creetur that ever startled the beholder!
I was took quite aback when she held out her little hand for mine;
I felt kinder delicate like that she should see my big jints. But
howsomever, “here goes,” said I, and I stuck out my bony fist, and, by
Jupiter, it was kivered with flesh, jest as soft and delicate as Uncle
Sam’s babies!!!
I stood starin’ from my hands to her about a minit, and then she bust
out a-laughin’, and I bust out a-laughin’ too!
“How shaller you be!” said she.
“It’s duced amoosin’,” said I.
“Who be you?” said she.
“Artemus Ward, the great lecterer on ‘Women’s Rites and Mormons,’” said
I.
At this she seemed mighty tickled.
“I heerd you speak on those momentous subjects in Liverpool,” said she.
“And arter that when I read the affectin’ account of your death in a
strange land, I cried.”
“Cried?” said I, “I’m much obleeged to you, but there’s nothin’ to cry
for as I know.”
“So there be’nt,” said she, puckerin’ up her pretty little mouth; “but
tell me, now, is this reely you?”
“I don’t know,” said I, “whether its reely myself or not, for I haven’t
seed myself--how do I look?”
She naterally blushed and answered:
“Ansom.”
That was too much for me. I took her round her waist and whispered--I
wont tell you what. She shook her head so that the ringlets fell
downall over her neck like the ashes from a tobaccy pipe, and in a
mighty reprovin’ manner said:
“Artemus Ward, I am a poetess!”
(By Jupiter! that was a stunner.)
“Is it Mrs. _Browning_?” said I, ready to drop on my knees (thinkin’ of
Robert).
She shook her head agin, and moved off, and I follered, kinder ashamed
of bein’ so abrupt. Lookin’ loftily at me, she said:
“I must leave you.”
“Leave me!” said I, “You cruel monster of beauty! Leave when I am
_sealed_ to you?”
(That kinder frightened her--I learned suthin’ from bein’ among the
Mormons.)
“You may foller me,” said she, while descendin’ in the midst of a
garden which opened rite before us. I did as she advised, and stepped
rite down in a place where there was a mighty display of trees,
flowers, and fountains, and a pretty big sprinklin’ of people.
Good Heavens! thought I. Is this the New Jerusalem? and lookin’ around
timidly for the man with the key, fearin’ I might be turned out, but
seein’ nothin’ but common lookin’ men and women, and no “flamin’
cherubim,” and creaters with wings stuck on their heads, and no bodies,
such as I had naterally expected to find in such a place, I took
courage and stept forward boldly.
The people all commenced cryin’ out as loud as they could:
“Artemus Ward! Artemus Ward!”
I felt kinder abashed at this, but advanced and called out, “Hear!
hear! Friends, it’s an amazin’ mystery how you know’d my name.” (I
felt diffident at not havin’ my lecter in my pocket, and not bein’
accustomed to speakin’ verbatim.) Howsumever, as they continooed
to clap their hands and shout, I got together all the brass I used
to carry “down East,” and jumped right atop of one of the roarin’
fountains--the very biggest on ’em all. I surmised it was kinder
dangerous, havin’ always experienced a religious awe of the “water of
life,” and not knowin’ but what this might be it. “Here goes,” said
I; “faint heart never won fair lady,” for rite at the foot was that
bootiful poetess to whom allusion has been made, lookin’ straight at me
with all her eyes.
I wanted to make a grand impression and let ’em know that I cum from
a nation that could fight for the Constitution, and wasn’t afeard
of spirits. And as for the “gold and pearls,” the “jasper and the
sardonix,” they needn’t expect to snub me off with this, for I had been
all through the gold and silver regions of Ameriky, and could tell as
big a story as any on ’em.
“The fact is, friends and nabors,” said I, “it is one thing to read of
a place, and another to see it. Now I must say, that geography and book
of travels called the ‘Bible’ is suthin’ like ‘Gulliver’s Travels,’
rather loose in description; and, for all I see around me, the grand
nation of Ameriky can beat you all holler in wonders.”
Havin’ thus spoken a good word for my country, I dismissed them, and
hurried back to commence these lecters, which is only a beginnin’ of
what I intend to do for the Amerikan People.
LADY BLESSINGTON.
_DISTINGUISHED WOMEN_.
It is remarkable to what a degree woman develops her intellect in the
spirit world.
Freed from the cares of maternity, she seems like some young goddess
fresh from the hand of Jupiter. All nerve, electricity, and motion--her
thoughts sparkling and full of flavor, and light, and life, this
new-born Eve of the celestial kingdom inspires the down-trodden Eve
of earth, and kindles to a blaze the whole male population of the
spiritual globe.
Prominent among the women of the times who have emigrated to these
shores from populous America, stands Margaret Fuller--a tall and
impressive blonde--a woman of strong bias, and resolute as a lion when
she has set foot upon a project. Earnest, passionate, and brilliant
in conversation, she wields a powerful influence over many minds of
a peculiar order; and through the few mediums whom she selects to
represent her characteristics, she displays a calmness and coolness of
reasoning and an excellence of judgment such as few are able to exhibit
thus second handed.
She has, through the exercise of her genius, erected a beautiful villa
upon a southern island, wherein she has displayed her poetic taste to
advantage. There, in the midst of a luxuriant garden, she resides with
her beautiful Angelo, a child of graceful form who was washed ashore
from the sad wreck years ago, but now approaching the years of manhood,
and in his looks the very personification of a young Mercury, blending
the fire and passion of a Southern nature with the zeal and activity of
the Northern.
Count Ossoli and his noble wife tear themselves away from the pleasures
of this delightful state of existence and devote their sacred energies
to the enfranchisement of Italy.
No Roman patriot, neither Garibaldi nor any of his compeers, equals
them in their efforts for the freedom of that sunny land.
Madame Ossoli is sanguine of success.
Defeat she considers merely the plough and harrow for the ripe harvest
of victory which will follow.
From her own eloquent lips I have heard her address to the Italian
soldiers who, defeated and killed, marched to the spirit land.
She told them how she, in the midst of her new-born joy, in sight of
her own native land, fought the fierce battle of the briny waves, and
felt as she sat dying on the sinking wreck, that all she had striven
for was in vain; how she had found that defeat, that engulping billow,
had proved in the end a victory, and had placed her where she could
watch over the destiny of Italia, her adopted country, and work for its
regeneration, and fight for its liberty, as she could not have done had
she been more successful in her plans on earth.
Another American woman, of less note, but also a reformer, is Eliza
Farnham. She is not so emotional, has less sentiment and considerable
originality, and is honest in her opinions and determined in her
efforts to uplift her sex and ameliorate their condition.
She wields a powerful influence over a certain clique in the spirit
world and on earth, and therefore deserves to be noticed among the
women of the times. In person she is of dark complexion, with black
hair and eyes, and strongly-marked brows, possessing much vivacity and
caustic wit.
She is matron of a large Institution, or Circulorium, erected for the
use of those spirits who make a practice of communicating with the
inhabitants of earth. They there meet to converse upon the various
means which they employ for transmitting intelligence, and to relate
their successes and defeats with the various trance and clairvoyant
mediums through whom they operate. There congregate those lecturers
and orators who discourse through the organisms of numerous trance
and inspirational mediums on earth. There also convene physicians and
“medicine men” who control the large number of healing mediums who
exercise their power throughout the United States and Europe. There,
also, gather the prophets and seers, who, with vision clearer than that
of ordinary spirits, warn mankind of danger and impress individuals
to pursue certain courses of action, to go or come, to undertake and
prosecute great designs for the seeming weal or woe of humanity.
From this lofty aviary she still sends forth her delicious, strains.
The children of earth hear them in fainter notes through young poets
who catch her inspiration. What she is doing for women in the world she
inhabits will be felt ere long in both the continents of Europe and
America.
Another remarkable person in this coterie of illustrious women must
be mentioned--Charlotte Bronté--a lady who feels the true dignity
and intellect of her sex with a force akin to manliness. Modest and
retiring, she would yet pick up the gauntlet like any knight against
the man who should say of a work of literary merit, “that it could
never have been penned by a woman.”
Soft and delicate, yet strong and full of heroism, she represents
woman, quicker to perceive the right than man, and capable of
undergoing greater perils in executing her duty.
Charlotte Bronté is a slight, brown-haired girl, with an eye full of
clairvoyant power. With her father, sisters, and poor reprobate of a
brother, all united like a cluster-diamond, she lives in a home which
they have selected, remarkable for its wild and picturesque beauty.
As a family they are like the ancient Scots, clannish--not in a vulgar
acceptation of the term, but for the reason that they are kindred
souls. The torch of genius flames in every member of that family,
but Charlotte is the mover, the inspirer of them all. She possesses
a greater degree of concentration and energy, and is more chivalrous
and venturesome. She is exceedingly interested in woman, and devotes
daily a portion of her time to visiting earth and suggesting ideas and
thoughts to those whom she can influence.
In her new home she draws around her a circle of chosen spirits, among
whom may be mentioned Thackeray (who esteems her as about the finest
specimen of womanhood he has seen), Prince Albert, Scott, Hawthorne,
the German Goethe, De Quincy, and others.
Few writers of romance have done more than she towards raising her sex
above the frivolities of dress and fortune, and placing them where they
shine conspicuous for their intellect and noble affections.
Bold and unsparing in analyzing woman’s heart in its uncontaminated
simplicity as well as in its subtlety, she lighted a torch in behalf
of her sex which flamed throughout the literary world, startling and
dazzling the beholder--a light which will never be quenched.
Charlotte Bronté was on earth what is now known as a medium. Her belief
in the supernatural she evinced in her works. If she had not indicated
so much intellect, the critics would have termed her superstitious.
They have inferred that it was the loneliness and sadness of her
life which caused her to imagine she saw her beloved dead and heard
unearthly voices calling her. But she has since told me that those
mysterious influences were not morbid fancies, but realities. Being
thus endowed clairvoyantly, and not only receptive but able to impart
that which she receives, she exerts at the present moment an influence
in the world of letters little dreamed of on earth.
I may here, without infringing on the requirements of good taste,
allude to the tale she has dictated through this medium. That it is a
story of powerful interest, all who read it will confess.
To many minds it will prove that her power is unabated, but every
reader will perceive the characteristics of the Bronté family in
the tale--characteristics which cannot be imitated--which are
individualized in that family, and breathe of the lone moor on which
they spent their earth ife, one of sad struggle of genius against
circumstance and destiny.
PROFESSOR OLMSTEAD.
_THE LOCALITY OF THE SPIRIT WORLD, AND ITS MAGNETIC RELATIONS TO THIS_.
How near is the spirit world to earth? is a question often put by the
inquiring mind. Some suppose it lies contiguous, just in the suburbs;
others imagine the spirit world to be within the atmosphere of this
earth; others again set it afar off in a given locality.
The last theory is correct, and the spirit world is really several
billions of miles from earth; yet the suppositions are true (in a
certain sense), for the inhabitants of the spirit world are migratory,
and there are many millions of them living within the earth’s
atmosphere, drawn thither on errands of pleasure and duty.
But there is a spiritual earth revolving around its spiritual sun, just
as this earth revolves around its sun.
It has shape and form like this planet, and is indeed the spiritual
body of the earth.
It existed before the creation of man on this globe, and was ready
for the reception of the soul or spirit of the first human being who
perished on earth.
As a spirit’s body is constructed from the spiritual emanations of man,
so the spiritual globe is formed of the magnetic emanations of the
earth. The refined gases which were thrown off during the process of
the formation of the material globe which man now inhabits, form the
basis of the spirit earth.
Each planet in the vast universe has its correspondent spirit world,
and invisible magnetic rays are constantly exchanging between the
spirit planet and its earth.
These magnetic currents or rays, like waves of silver light, constantly
transmit thoughts from the spirit world to this.
All spirit is matter.
The spirit globe, being primarily composed of gases, in revolving
around its central sun ultimates in a substance which is similar to the
soil of your earth.
The same system which marks the development of the material world also
is displayed in the development of the spiritual world.
Order is God. No spirit world can exist without form, neither can it
exist without motion. Motion produces the spheroid, and the rotation of
the spheroid produces atmosphere and diversity of surface; all these
variations characterize the spirit globe.
When these facts are carefully reflected upon and understood, the
majesty of the Creator assumes a magnitude most stupendous.
The astronomer searching through space for undiscovered planets and
suns, has failed to fix his telescope upon these spiritual worlds, but
the day will come when science will discover their existence.
The spirit world is not an arid desert. As I have said, it has soil.
It is not a thin, vaporish flat, without depth or density; and its
circumference exceeds that of the earth.
One of the component elements of its soil is magnetism. Its vegetation
is of rapid growth and beautiful beyond anything that your planet can
display.
As the atmosphere of the spirit world is not so dense as yours, and
as the rays of the spiritual sun are not obliged to penetrate through
so much cloud and vapor, the colors of all objects are sparkling and
beautiful in variety and tone.
The specific gravity of the spirit upon his globe is not so great,
comparatively, as that of man in the natural world. He can rise in his
native air with little difficulty, and can dart with unerring accuracy
upon the magnetic current flowing from the spirit world to the one he
once inhabited.
The investigator in searching for the spirit world has but to direct
his attention to the north star and his eye will embrace, unwittingly,
the locality of that world. The north pole is the great gate which
leads to it direct.
The aurora borealis or Northern lights is an electric current which
flows from that world to earth, and is sent in through the great gate.
The scintillations of these rays are caught up by the clouds and vapors
and are repeated in many portions of the globe, and faint rays from
them are seen even in this temperate climate.
ADAH ISAACS MENKEN.
_HOLD ME NOT_.
Up to the zenith mount!
Far into space--
Ah! all thy tears I count,
Sad, loving face.
Clasp not my garments so,
Love of my soul;
Clinging, you drag me low,
Where tortures roll.
Soil not my angel wing;
Keep not from rest;
How can I upward spring,
Clasped to thy breast?
Hold me not, lover--friend--
Earth I would fly;
Passion and torture end
In the blest sky!
Life brought but woe to me,
Even thy kiss
Gave me but agony--
Remorse with bliss!
Let go thy earthly hold--
Fain would I fly;
Voices with love untold
Call from on high.
Farewell--the dregs are drank
Of life’s sad cup;
It proved but poison rank;
Life’s lease is up!
N.P. WILLIS.
_OFF-HAND SKETCHES_.
Since my friend Morris joined me, we’ve been as busy as Wall street
brokers in a gold panic--eyes and ears, and every sense filled with
the novel sights and sounds that greet us on every side in this most
delightful, charming, incomparably beautiful summer land.
Whom have we not seen, from Napoleon down to the last suicide?
I have a memorandum which would reach from here to Idlewild, filled
with the names of notables and celebrities, whom I have met in the
short space of a year.
We do matters quickly here, among the celestials. I used to think life
sped fast in the great cities of London, Paris, and New York, but we
live faster here. With every means of travelling which human ingenuity
can invent--flying machines, balloons, the will and the magnet--we
fairly outdo thought and light, which you consider emblems of rapidity
on earth.
Morris and I made a point of visiting Byron, Moore, Hunt, Scott, and
that clique. You must bear in mind that we do not all live on one point
of space _here_; among so many thousand million, billion, trillion,
quadrillion, sextillion, and countless illions, there must be some
persons who are further apart than Morris and I, who are side by side!
It is a peculiarity which you Yankees seldom think of, that Englishmen
can’t endure to live in America. Well, that peculiarity is just as
active after they “shuffle off the mortal coil.” They must have their
little England, even in the spirit world.
So I telegraphed to that quarter of the celestial planet that two
strangers from the great emporium of intellect, and civilization,
New York City, were about to visit that locality. We so arranged our
journey as to arrive about a day after the dispatch had reached them.
It was proposed that we should meet at the beautiful villa belonging to
the Countess of Blessington.
I can assure you that on arriving there it was with a slightly
palpitating heart I ascended the noble steps of her residence. The
Countess met us graciously, and by her vivacity and charming candor
dispelled the feeling of modest diffidence as to our merits, naturally
awakened by the thought of being presented to those illustrious persons
who so long held sway over English literature.
Ere we were aware, we were ushered into the midst of a hilarious group
of authors, who welcomed us in a most cordial manner.
I did not need to have them introduced to me by name, as I recognized
each readily from likenesses I had seen on earth.
Lord Byron’s countenance is much handsomer and more spiritualized
in expression than any portrait of him extant. I noticed that the
deformity of his foot, which had been a severe affliction to him on
earth, was no longer apparent.
Scott looked as good and as jovial as ever, and Tom Moore, the very
pink of perfection and elegance.
As for the Countess, when I last saw her on earth I thought her
incomparable. But whether it was through the cosmetic influences of
the spirit air, or from other causes, she had now become bewitchingly
beautiful.
After we had conversed awhile on general topics and I had answered
their questions in regard to the changes which had occurred in certain
terrestrial localities with which, they were familiar, the Countess
invited us out to survey the landscape from her balcony.
The view from this point was extremely romantic. Just beyond the
spacious park extended a lovely lake, whose waters were of a rich
golden-green color. Upon its limpid bosom several gondolas floated, and
gay parties waved their handkerchiefs to us from beneath the silken
hangings as they passed.
“Countess,” said I, after my eye had surveyed the fine landscape and
noble residence, “I am but a wandering Bohemian, and you must excuse
my audacity if I ask how it, is possible that in this “world of
shadows” you have surrounded yourself by so much that is beautiful and
substantial? You could not bring your title and your lands with you
from earth. Your jewels and costly raiment you must have left behind;
then whence comes all this wealth and luxury?”
The Countess smiled. “Ah,” said she, roguishly, “you did not study your
Bible lesson well if you did not learn that you could ’lay up treasures
in heaven.’ Why, all the time I was living on earth I had friends
working for me--admirers who had been drawing interest from my youthful
talent and had laid it up to my account. We go upon the tithe system
here, and ’render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.”
She told me that works of interest which are published on earth are
reproduced in the spirit world and the author credited with a tithe of
what accrues from them.
Byron, Scott, and Moore have also been doing double duty while on
earth, and have been recompensed for their industry in the spirit world.
Byron, she privately informed me, had been united to the Mary of his
early love, and under her sweet womanly influence had lost much of the
misanthropy which had annoyed his friends in this life.
As my stay was short, I had only opportunity to converse with these men
of mark on general topics.
On the whole, we spent a very interesting morning, and, after partaking
of refreshments, we left, having inquired after Count D’Orsay, whom we
learned was then on a trip to earth. Bidding adieu to the Countess and
her friends, we started for the celebrated island called the “Golden
Nest,” which lies in a south-westerly direction from the Countess’s
villa.
After having travelled some hours in our own diligence (i.e., driven
through the air by our own will), moving along quite leisurely that we
might survey the country beneath us, we reached a group of beautiful
lakes, reminding me strongly in size and appearance of lakes Erie,
Huron, Michigan, and Superior, the famed lakes of my own native clime.
In the centre of the largest of these lakes lay the island we were
seeking. We descended like skilful aeronauts into the centre of a
group of happy children, who were playing like little fairies amid the
flowers blooming profusely everywhere.
Singling out two of the prettiest, we addressed them.
Directly a merry band gathered about us, answering our questions
intelligently and skipping before us to lead the way to the “Golden
Nest,” as the superb structure was called in which these little
soul-birds were sheltered.
Everywhere, as we advanced, our eyes lit upon pretty bands of children;
some swinging in the tree-boughs like birds, some waltzing in the air,
others sitting upon the green, chattering and singing, filling the
surrounding air with their melody.
Certainly it was a most enlivening sight to witness their enjoyment.
After having amused ourselves for a while with their gambols, we turned
our steps toward the Home.
The building was oval in form, and composed of a golden fleecy
incrustation from which it derived it, name. Within, the “Nest” was
like Aladdin’s palace.
Innumerable compartments, hung with silks and tissues of tender and.
harmonious colors, and decorated with birds’ plumage of varied hues,
arrested the eye. These spacious alcoves were each furnished with a
domed skylight, adorned with hanging tassels and glittering ornaments.
Ladies were busy in nearly all of these compartments in instructing
children under their care.
In some that I entered I was shown new-born babes not an hour old, torn
from their mothers’ bosoms on earth, and lying upon fleecy pillows,
attended by lovely women, who looked the angels which they were.
One of these gay baby-nests in which I lingered was decorated with
peculiar tastefulness, and seemed like a perfect aviary. Singular birds
of splendid plumage were perched on various projections about the
spacious apartment, warbling away like silver bells.
The lady of this chamber was engaged in teaching a little girl of some
two summers to mount to the skylight by her will.
This lady, I was informed, was the noble lady R----, so famed for her
charity on earth.
She was very gracious and communicative, and told me that some children
exercised their ability to rise in air more readily than others; that
the difficulties their instructor had to guard against were the fickle,
versatile nature of their wills, and their inability for continuous
thought. Their wayward minds could not be directed long at one point.
They would wander from the path like the poor little Babes in the Wood,
and on their way to special destinations, would change their thoughts,
unharness their will, and come suddenly down, sometimes in lonely and
unfrequented spots.
Owing to this dereliction, it was found difficult to make frequent
excursions to earth with them. Those attracted to their terrestrial
homes were attended by ladies who had them in charge, and who would
kindly accompany them, for one or two weeks, to visit their friends
upon earth.
I told her that I had lost a child some years ago, and had thought till
recently to find it still an infant.
Many cases of this kind, she said, had occurred under her observation.
People did not view the matter rationally. Ladies had called at the
“Golden Nest” to inquire for children that had left earth twenty or
thirty years ago, and it was painful to witness the distress they
exhibited when told that their children were grown men and women.
One lady had called there some three days since, and claimed as her own
a little child, an infant about two months old, who had been brought
from earth three weeks previous, while the child she had lost had been
in the spirit world seventeen years!
But no amount of argument would convince her that her child had grown
up, and that the infant she selected was not her own.
She was finally permitted to take the child away, as they knew it would
be properly cared for. Many of the children while young were thus
adopted.
“It appears marvellous,” remarked this noble lady, “that any parent
should wish to cramp the body and soul of his child by keeping it
in a state of infancy, when, if it had remained on earth, it would
necessarily have arrived at years of maturity.
“Nature does not suspend her operations in transplanting from earth to
heaven! The soul is formed for expansion, and surely the spirit world
is not the place to suppress unfoldment!”
As I listened to her intelligent conversation, I blushed to be reminded
of my own error in supposing my own darling, who had reached the
spirit world so long before, would greet me with the prattling talk of
babyhood!
Pleased with our visit and the information we had received, we bade
adieu to Lady R. and the “Golden Nest,” and pursued our flight in
another direction.
“Do let us next find out,” said I to Morris, “what they do here with
criminals; there must be many a wicked reprobate who arrives here from
earth fresh from murders and villanies of all sorts.”
As I spoke, two grave-looking gentlemen, whom I took to be either
doctors or judges, crossed the path before us, and I proposed to make
these inquiries of them.
Who should they prove to be but William Penn and the omnipresent
Benjamin Franklin!
“Yes, yes,” said Penn, in reply to our questions shaking his head
deprecatingly; “’tis too true; we are obliged to have what Swedenborg
calls “our hells,” for you send your criminals from earth so hardened
that we are compelled to keep them under guard. Come with us and we’ll
show you how we treat them.”
We were very glad of this opportune meeting, and followed with alacrity.
Presently, leaving the beautiful country far behind us, we came upon
a desert waste, and as I am extremely sensitive to conditions, I felt
somewhat like a criminal in passing through it. Having got safely over,
however, there burst upon our sight a scene of surpassing beauty; as
far as the eye could reach extended a most highly-cultivated district
of country.
Groves of fruit resembling the oranges and pineapples of our tropics,
noble trees like the palm, the fig, and date, were to be seen in every
quarter, rearing their boughs against the summer sky. The air was laden
with fragrance from tree and vine.
Great bunches of purple grapes like the fabled fruit of Canaan in the
Old Testament, a single bunch of which required two men to bear it,
drooped heavily from twining vines, while from many a bough and twig
swung golden, crimson, and cream-colored fruit, which fairly made one’s
mouth water.
It was a picture rich enough in color for a Claude or Turner.
“This is delicious,” said I to Penn. “Do tell us to what fairy prince
this magnificent land belongs!”
“We will show you the fairy prince himself, very soon,” said he. “Do
you see the tip of his castle yonder?”
I looked, and as we moved swiftly in the direction indicated an
unexpected spectacle loomed in sight. It was a building so delicate and
perfect in its structure that it appeared like a vision.
Pillars and arches, dome and architrave, were wrought in a style
exquisitely beautiful; the material of which it was composed seemed
like polished sea-shells, so transparent that you could see through it
the forms of the inmates.
“This,” said William Penn, “is one of our prisons. Let us enter.”
We followed in amazement, and were ushered into a hall hung with
paintings rich in design and color, while distributed around in
various alcoves were cases containing books and articles of curious
workmanship, of which I had not yet learned the use.
This hall formed the court within the main building.
From where we stood we could see hundreds of men in white suits moving
about. Some seemed engaged in conversation, others in sportive games,
and others in various employments.
“You do not mean to tell us that these men are prisoners,” said I.
“Yes; they have passed for years on earth a life of evil, yet all the
beauty you behold here is the work of their hands. Idleness is the
mother of crime. We teach them to become industrious, and surround them
with beauty to develop their love of harmony.
“Ignorance and poverty are supposed to be the principal causes of evil
on earth. But many fearful offences have been committed in high places
from thwarted love and ambition. We have many of that character in this
prison, but they are young. This is intended as a place to educate and
restrain men who would return to earth and incite impressible beings to
evil.
“The material of which this building is composed, though seemingly so
fragile, is a non-conductor of thought, and while detained within it
the inmates gradually free themselves from their old influences and
disorderly desires.
“Cultivating the fruits of the earth calls into action only their most
harmonious organs. A great mistake made by the legislators of earth is
in employing criminals in stone-cutting, or placing them in gangs, as
they do on the Continent, to work the rugged road.
“Employment of this kind awakens the very propensities which should be
subdued. The composing, softening influences induced by tilling the
soil would go far toward converting your evil men into good citizens.”
I was struck with the truthfulness of his suggestions, and put them
down in my note-book for the benefit of humanity, and now hand them
over to my readers for consideration.
After leaving this place we paid a visit to Edgar A. Poe,
whose unfortunate life on earth you are all familiar with. His
brilliant imagination we found as active as of old. He welcomed us
enthusiastically, and eagerly led us into a small theatre which he had
constructed and filled with most marvellous creations from his own
fancy. He inherited from his father and mother, who were actors, a love
for dramatic effect, and in theatrical impersonations he found some
vent for his exuberant imagination.
“Stand here,” said he, placing us near the entrance; “I have something
curious to show you.” He then suspended upon the stage a curtain, whose
peculiarity was its pure, soft blue color, like an Italian sky.
“Watch,” said he, pointing his uplifted finger to the hanging.
Presently appeared upon it figures like shadows on a phantasmagoria.
One form was that of a female sitting upon a low chair, apparently
reading a book.
“That,” said Poe, “is Miss D. I can control her and will her to reflect
her figure upon the curtain; and that man is T.L. Harris. It is my own
invention,” said he; “I studied it out and applied chemicals to my
canvas till it produced this sensitive surface. All I have to do is to
send my thoughts to them, and will them to appear, and there they are.
Coleridge has a similar curtain, and some few others. But it requires
a peculiar spirit brain to magnetize the subject sufficiently.” He
offered to show me in the same manner any friend of mine with whom he
could come in rapport.
This proposition delighted Morris and I, and we spent an agreeable
evening in seeing certain of our friends on earth thus revealed.
Some were busy eating at the time, the _gourmands_! Others, more
studious, were poring over books and papers, and one, whose name I
shall not mention, was reproduced in the very act of making love!
The, dear old faces awakened such sad memories, and the occupations
in which they were engaged were in the main so ludicrous, that we
were held between tears and laughter till after midnight. But that is
an Irish bull--for you must know that we have no night in the spirit
world. Our diurnal revolutions are so rapid, and the atmosphere so
magnetically luminous, that it is never dark here. But, however,
according to earth’s parlance, it was midnight before we got through.
I will now bid adieu to my friends and readers until we meet again.
MARGARET FULLER
_CITY OF SPRING GARDEN_.
I am at present domiciled with my excellent friend Abraham Lincoln,
in the beautiful city of Spring Garden. This place contains between
sixty and seventy thousand inhabitants, a majority of whom are engaged
in literary and artistic pursuits. It might vie with ancient Athens
for the wealth of mind which is concentrated within its precincts. It
is not compactly built, the city covering about thrice the surface of
ground that would be occupied by one on earth of the same number of
inhabitants. The streets are handsome, the pavements being covered with
a gay enamel which is formed by dampening a certain yellow powder,
which, when hardened, shines like amber. They are laid out in circles,
surrounding a large park of several acres, which forms the centre of
the city. This park is embellished with trees and flowering plants of
every description, and does not differ materially from the extensive
parks to be found on earth, except in its management.
Booths are erected at the various gates, which are supplied with fruits
and confections free to all who present a ticket to the keeper. These
tickets are furnished by the city authorities to those who desire them.
This class is composed chiefly of children, and of grown persons who
are incompetent to supply by their labor their own wants. Here they can
walk through the pleasant grounds, rock themselves in swings, which are
numerous, and, when weary with exercise, their appetites stimulated by
the refreshing air, which circulates through its hills and dales as
freely as in the open country, they can apply for refreshments at any
one of the booths or tables within the park. A very delicious drink
manufactured from the exudence of a flower not known on earth may here
be procured. The grounds are provided with various other apparatus
for amusement and pleasure, among which are elegantly-formed sleds
on galvanic runners, which glide over the ground with swiftness most
exhilarating to the senses. Air carriages are also furnished, and, in
short, nothing is wanting for the pleasure and entertainment of the
visitors who throng daily the extensive avenues.
Forming an outer circle to the park is the main thoroughfare of the
city. The streets, as I have said, are laid out in graduated circles
which increase in circumference as they recede from the centre. The
outermost circle is bordered by trees, which form a natural wall.
This city might be called the circle of palaces, from the numerous
magnificent edifices which adorn it at every point.
The buildings are of a light, graceful style of architecture, adapted
to the climate and the out-door life which the people generally lead.
The street facing the park is devoted to the display of commodities and
creations of the spirit world and its inhabitants.
In this section are exposed to view beautiful fabrics, finer than the
web of a spider, glistening like threads of sunbeam and ornamented with
most exquisite floral designs taken from nature. Some of these fabrics
emblemize the blue heaven glittering with silver stars; others the
clouds, with sunlight shimmering through them.
Some have shadowy designs of birds and curious animals strown over a
ground of amber or violet. These beautiful devices are photographed
on the material; or, as the transcendentalist would say, they are
projected there by the will.
Electricity with us is so potent an agent that it is used for this
purpose, transferring the image and stamping it there.
These fabrics are more delicate and gossamer-like than any with which
you are familiar on earth.
Exquisite materials are not only indulged in by ladies, but _male
angels_ robe themselves in attire more fanciful and gorgeous than they
have been accustomed to wear in their first life; except, indeed, the
Orientals, who more nearly approach us Celestials in that particular.
I will state for the benefit of ladies that we have no millinery
establishments, as the females wear simply their own beautiful hair,
which they adorn with flowers and a peculiar lace, as thin as a breath.
The hair, owing to electrical conditions, is usually abundant and of
beautiful texture, forming the chief ornament of the head.
On the street I have described are also many studios for artists. These
_attelliers_ are very ornamental in appearance, being placed in the
centre of a large court. They are of various fanciful shapes, according
to the design of the artist, generally open on the sides, with a dome
supported by pillars, and resembling in form an ancient temple. Within,
they are hung with rich draperies, which are adjusted at pleasure.
The open dome admits the light and may be covered by a screen when
necessary.
These studios are all on the ground floor, and usually with airy
reception rooms attached, opening upon a court gay with flowers, birds,
and fountains, making it a pleasant retreat for the artist and his
friends. As my friend H---- gaily suggests, these accessible studios
compensate the artist for the _attics_ which he occupied on earth.
The art of painting is here carried to greater perfection than it ever
has been on earth.
As the development of the intellect in the material world depends upon
the subservience of matter to mind, so in the spirit world, the same
principle is the great motor power; for there we have matter (that is,
spirit matter), and this we work into forms of beauty as we desire.
Speaking of art, I must digress to allude to the _fête_ which we held
in our park in honor of three quite eminent artists, who have recently
arrived in the spirit world and taken up their abode in this city.
As they were all new-comers, and but slightly acquainted with our
manners and customs, we gave this celebration to surprise them, and
also as a token of our appreciation of their efforts to spiritualize
humanity; for art we regard as one of our most spiritualizing agencies.
In the centre of the park, I had forgotten to state, we have a temple
erected, somewhat resembling those of ancient Greece, and which is for
the use of orators and public singers. This temple was beautifully
decorated with garlands and paintings by spirit artists. Within it
were seated the visitors and a few friends, and without were stationed
musicians, with curious instruments of melody, such as are unknown to
earth.
Various ingenious machines for locomotion and amusement attracted
general attention. Another source of interest were the graceful and
picturesque groups of children moving in the air. At intervals, one
of the most fascinating of their number would descend with offerings
of fruits and flowers for our guests. The amazement expressed by our
visitors, as these lovely children would suddenly sweep down through
the air like graceful birds of radiant plumage was delightful for us
older inhabitants to witness.
This city contains several institutions of learning which are
accessible to all; not only those can become inhabitants of this
city who have a taste for the beauties and refinements of life, but
needy aspirants from earth may be introduced by them into these
establishments.
Previous to entering the spirit world I had supposed everything here
would be free, but I have found here, as on earth, that nothing can be
attained but by exertion, and that the great diversity of talent and of
gifts necessarily enforces a system of exchange.
All men are not alike inventive in the spirit world. The inventor, by
his fertile brain, constructs an article which the majority desire to
possess, and for that article they give him an equivalent. It may be a
picture or it may be a song.
Here the artisan is not hampered as on earth; his time--the mere time
employed in mechanical labor--is of short duration. Our facilities
for creating are so immensely superior to those of earth that but a
brief period is required for producing a result. The remaining time is
devoted mainly to the development of the mind, to amusement, and to
scientific research.
I stated in the beginning of my letter that I was visiting the home of
Abraham Lincoln. He is residing here with some members of his family,
and appears very happy and contented. The son for whose loss he grieved
amid the honors of the White House, is now his friend and companion.
Matters of state, as I learn from conversation with him, occupy his
mind but little; but he is deeply interested in humanity, and is
anxious to elevate and harmonize the whole human family.
His influence for good is powerful, and he exerts it constantly.
Theodore Parker and Hawthorne both reside in this city. Parker, as I
have been told, when he first came here, decided to devote himself to
the cultivation of land; but he has drifted again into the rostrum, and
twice a week you may see the fair maidens and gallant swains of Spring
Garden wending their way to his beautiful little home and garden in the
suburbs, where, amid the flowers, he descants to them, in his eloquent
way, on life and the attributes of the human soul, and also upon his
earth experiences.
So you perceive he exemplifies by his own actions the wise saying,
“Once a prophet, always a prophet.” His original mind cannot keep
silent, and his thoughts find readiest utterance in speech.
Hawthorne is living here with his beautiful daughter, who devotes her
attention to art.
His mind is as active as ever. He informs me that many of the mysteries
that seemed inexplicable to him while on earth are now cleared up.
I have spoken of the noble buildings of this city, surrounded by
spacious gardens and beautified by trees and flowers, fountains and
singing birds; but I have not alluded to the way in which property is
held, and the reader will naturally inquire if these handsome dwellings
are owned by their occupants.
They are not, but are simply loaned to them. Spirits congenial to those
at present residing here lived in them ages agone.
It is true, each individual taste may alter and embellish the buildings
and surroundings, but these improvements belong to the city and not
to the individuals. The titles are vested in the community, and its
members can vote, as in the case of Abraham Lincoln, in reference to
any individual coming among them.
There are three daily papers issued in the city, and only three. One
is especially devoted to reporting news from earth,--revolutions that
transpire, changes in state and national politics, recent accidents
which have thrown individuals suddenly into the spirit world, and to
recording the names, as far as possible, of persons who have deceased
from earth.
Disasters that occur on sea and land are immediately telegraphed to the
newspapers in Spring Garden and published for the use of the community.
It may be interesting to the curious to know that in cases like the
sinking of a vessel, where fifty or a hundred individuals are suddenly
ushered into the spirit world, delegates are sent out from this and
other cities to meet the sufferers and offer them the hospitalities of
the city, in accordance with their individual merits and degrees of
development.
Our method of printing newspapers differs materially from that in vogue
on earth.
Our papers might be termed photo-telegrams. A much less space is
occupied by a communication of a given length than the same would
require in your papers. We have a system of short-hand, understood by
all, similar to that used by your telegraphic operator.
We have various places of public amusement, two fine theatres which
are devoted to dramas originating with the inhabitants of our world,
and another appropriated to the representation of dramas familiar to
earth. Our places of amusement are of large capacity, hence but few are
needed; and the people of this city being congenial in their natures,
as many as possible like to assemble in one place.
The several actors who have been famed on earth appear at the theatres
in Spring Garden. Garrick, Kean, Kemble, Booth, Vandenhoff, Cooke,
Macready, Rachel, and Mrs. Siddons, visit us from time to time.
Among our distinguished actors are many who on earth were clergymen,
politicians, and of other occupations.[A]
[Footnote A: I am told that the Rev. Newland Maffit is at present a
distinguished actor in the spirit world. ED.]
GILBERT STUART.
_ART CONVERSATION_.
People are fools in religion, and worship as divine the most stupid
monstrosities ever conceived of! Only tell the masses that St. Luke,
St. John, or Mary Magdalen was the author of some absurdity, which, if
you or I had originated, they would scoff at, and they will clasp their
hands in mute admiration over that miracle of art!
So it seems to me to be with Spiritualists. Drawings devoid of taste,
hard, and out of proportion, are received by them with acclamations of
joy, and credited, if they are figures, to Raphael, and if landscapes,
to Claude Lorraine or some other great master of art.
Now I, for one, wish people would use their brains, and not be so
easily gulled.
It is truly wonderful that a spirit can make a person draw a straight
line who never could draw any but a crooked one. It partakes something
of the miraculous, I admit; and that spirits should produce likenesses,
and representations of flowers, scrolls, and ornamental designs, and
unearthly landscapes, through mediums whose powers of representation
and artistic talents have never been developed, is indeed marvellous!
but that these drawings should be called works of art, and looked upon
as the genuine offspring of those immortal painters, is ridiculous, and
a thing to be deprecated by every intelligent spirit and Spiritualist,
either here or in any other world!
Why, God Almighty himself could not take a raw, unschooled,
undisciplined hand, and produce a work of art!
If a medium is content with what he has done, if he does not comprehend
the faults of his work, if his eye and brain are not educated
artistically,--then he must stand like a machine working in a groove.
Neither Phidias nor any of his descendants could inspire a high
production through such means!
Now I do wish that _educated artists_ would seek to be controlled by us
spirits; or that those mediums whom we do influence would go to school,
and submit to the drudgery that is necessary to give them skill in
design and execution.
Then could we hope to represent something of the progress of art in the
spirit world; and would be enabled to depict marvels of landscapes, and
the seraphic beauty of the human face with its grace and perfection of
form, as it meets us in this artistic land.
Yon ask if we have galleries of art here. I should think so: art-love
is immortal! You do not suppose that Benjamin West, Washington Allston,
Henry Inman, Copely, Stuart, and we Americans who loved our art, would
be satisfied with laying down the brush, and would have contented
ourselves with singing and playing on cymbals constantly for the
hundred years or so that we’ve been here? Now, where there is a will
there is a way, and having the will, we have found the way to exercise
the genius which God gave us.
Speaking of music, the gift is cultivated here to an extent that would
set the _dilettanti_ of earth wild with ecstasy!
_Music, Poetry, Art, Oratory_, and _Scientific Research_, form the
principal occupations of the beings in this immortal world of ours, and
language is incapable of conveying an idea of the perfection which our
noble and glorious faculties have attained.
Art is about to undergo a revolution. At present too much attention is
given to the literal rendering of a fact, and imagination, which is
merely a faculty for reaching the immaterial, is checked; but ere long
painters will turn their attention to representing scenes in spirit
life, and the inspiration which attended the old masters when they
gave wings to their fancy and cut loose from identical imitation, will
return.
Let the camera and the photograph reproduce the exact outline and
minutiae, but let the artist paint with the pencil of imagination and
inspiration! Only permit imagination to have root in the material
world. As no man can become a good angel who has not developed his
physical nature in harmony with his spiritual, so neither painter
nor medium can represent the artistic beauties of the natural world,
nor of the spirit world, unless he has had a good physical training.
It is only through the _physical_ that the imagination can express
itself with beauty and correctness. Truth is beauty, and is always
proportionate; the light equalizing the dark, precisely as in the
perfection of art a mass of shadow is balanced by a proportion of light.
One of the most agreeable places of rest or there-abouts is the
artists’ rendezvous--a building larger than St. Peter’s at Home,
magnificent in structure, and filled with wonderful paintings.
Here artists and authors of all nations are to be found. You can step
in any morning and have a chat with Lawrence, Reynolds, Lessing,
Delaroche Hazlitt, Coleridge, Charles Lamb, Beethoven, Mendelssohn,
Rossini, Willis, Irving, Anthon, Sigourney, Osgood, Booth, Kemble,
Kean, Cooper, Vandenhoff, Palmerston, Pitt, O’Connel, Lamartine,
Napoleon, Margaret Fuller, Charlotte Bronté, Lady Blessington, and
others of note, who have made themselves illustrious during the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. People of congenial tastes and
aspirations can readily obtain admittance, and all freely engage in
conversation on topics connected with art and literature.
A large garden is attached to the building, filled with every manner
of fruit-tree, and is accessible to all; any poor devil of an artist
can go there and some bewitching Houri will present him with all the
delicious condiments which his taste or fancy can demand.
In these matters the inhabitants of earth need to take a lesson from us.
I prophesy that America will be a pioneer in these reformations, and
will, in some Central Park, erect a building similar to this, where
aspiring artists may receive food for the soul and the body, and where
artistic minds can meet and interchange ideas.
EDWARD EVERETT.
_GOVERNMENT_.
The Christianized world supposes that the form of government now
existing in the heavenly system is that of a monarchy; that God is the
supreme ruler of the whole universe, embracing not only the little
planet Earth, but the countless starry worlds and invisible systems
that roll through space. But more directly in its imagination does it
place him as the sole monarch and kingly ruler of the spirit world. It
seats him in fancy upon a gorgeous throne, material in every aspect of
its magnificence; a throne of gold and jewels, as described by that
Miltonic poet, St. John, in his “Revelations.”
This is the prevailing faith of Christendom; a faith which to the
majority seems knowledge as positive as the fact that Victoria rules
the British people, and sits upon the English throne.
Yet this is the conception of a people fond of barbaric pomp and
splendor. A conception unsupported by reason and at variance with fact.
Nearer to the truth was the old Greek nation; a nation which embodied
the intellect, the wisdom, and the refinement of the present age.
That nation, in its belief in the government of the spiritual universe,
was wholly Polytheistic, believing in many gods, and, as I have said,
approached nearer the idea of the form of government as existing in the
spirit world, for it is a Republic of Gods.
It is a law of the universe that all vast bodies must be divided and
subdivided into smaller ones. Every system is a constellation and every
constellation is a congeries.
In accordance with this law, the universal world of _spirit_ is broken
up, is divided and subdivided.
In these divisions and subdivisions forms of government ensue,
differing slightly one from another, according to the progressive
development of the people; and an unlimited monarchy is not known in
the spirit world.
There are some clinging to their old habits, associations, and
education, who would fain raise the representatives of royalty on earth
to the same positions in the spirit world when they become residents
there. But the effort, when made, cannot be sustained. The one-man
power is incompatible with spiritual laws and spiritual justice.
In a world where the external trappings are torn away and the internal
nature of man is exposed to observation, the prerogatives of earthly
kings have but little power.
The republican form of government is destined to overthrow all the
monarchies of earth. As the world progresses and knowledge becomes
universal, individuals will be able to govern themselves.
It has been only through ignorance and superstition, and the limited
knowledge of the masses, that the kings and emperors of earth have been
enabled to sway their jewelled sceptres over the necks of the people.
But their reign is drawing to a close; their glories have culminated;
and the day is rapidly approaching when earth will be governed even as
the heavens above are governed. As in the world of nature, “the same
chance happens alike to all,” and every child in time may become a
man and every infant a father, and the experience of one becomes the
experience of all, so in the government of the spirit world, every man
can rise and become for a space of time the patriarchal dictator of a
republic.
The prevailing form of our republic differs from that of the American
republic in many particulars. Our term of office is of shorter duration
than with you. Our directors while in office make friendly excursions
to other republics. Matters of state with us are not so weighty or
complicated as with you, nor are encroachments and reprisals so common.
We are not compelled to sustain such vast armies and navies, involving
the necessity of directing and superintending them.
As a rule, people who have entered the second stage of existence desire
a change. They desire to live with more simplicity and freedom, and are
eager to begin their new life with nobler aspirations. Therefore, they
assimilate with comparative ease with our form of government.
Our directors are our fathers. The nearest approach to our system is
the government of the Mormons in Utah. Pardon me, if, in making this
statement, I offend any delicate sensibility. I allude not to their
creed, but to their mode of public administration.
As I have stated, the inhabitants of the spirit world are divided and
subdivided into associations, or bodies, which in your world would be
termed nations and states. For example, the nation to which I belong is
represented by the American people. The nationalities of earth present
different traits and characteristics which set them apart, though in a
general aspect they present one whole. Even as in the ornithological
world different species of birds represent the feathered race, and
though differing in many particulars and forming separate varieties,
yet assimilate as a whole, so nations migrating to the spirit world
form separate nationalities. And, as I have stated, some of them,
educated in the belief of the divine right of kings, choose a form
of rule nearer approaching the monarchial than the republican. Among
such often arises a Napoleon, a man of powerful intellect, a mind to
grasp all circumstances, and a will to direct, who succeeds in placing
himself in a position which he retains for years.
But as the hereditary right of kings cannot exist in the spirit world,
the emperor or dictator is chosen by the people, as was the custom of
the ancient Romans.
Intercourse of nations with us is not bounded by the obstacles that
exist on earth. Prominent ideas prevailing among the most intelligent
masses of spirits become the views of the whole. This your own world
exemplifies. As the means of communication become more facile, as
the various arts of locomotion obliterate distance, the remote and
barbarous nations, brought into proximity with the civilized, assume
their habits, adopt their modes of action, and follow their form of
government.
I can safely predict for you a similar result. In the spirit world
those nations once most tenacious of kingly rights and of the majesty
of the throne, lay quietly down their regal crowns, and assume the
unostentatious cap of the republic. So will all the nations of earth
follow their spiritual leaders and hurl out from the round globe the
crumbling thrones and sceptres of kings and emperors and the tottering
papal chair of Rome, down, down, into the vast tomb of antiquity!
FREDERIKA BREMER
_FLIGHT TO MY STARRY HOME_.
I was in Stockholm when the ambassador, who is sent by the all-wise
Father to pilot his children to the unknown land of roses, called for
me, and I was obliged to part with the body which, though homely and
unattractive, like the dear, good “family roof,”[A] had rendered me
service in many a stormy day.
[Footnote A: Swedish term for umbrella.]
The feeling I experienced in taking my departure was like that of going
out into a pitiless storm, and it was followed by an intense prickling
sensation, similar to that familiarly known as the “foot asleep.” This,
I afterwards understood, was occasioned by the electrical current
passing through my spirit as it assumed shape upon emerging from its
old frame.
Some twenty minutes perhaps elapsed after the breath leaving the body
before I became perfectly conscious in my new form. Upon recovering
the use of my senses, my whole attention was drawn from myself to the
friends who had gathered in the room which had so recently been my sick
chamber.
As I watched them combing the hair and attiring the white, stiff
figure that lay so solemnly stretched upon the couch, my emotions were
indescribable. I endeavored to speak, but my voice gave but a faint
sound, which they evidently did not hear--as a spirit, I attracted no
attention. This caused me deep grief, for I desired them all to see me
still living.
My sad emotions were presently dispelled by the sound of most
mellifluous music bursting upon my senses; and as I turned my eyes to
discover the source from whence it proceeded, I beheld, resurrected
before me, a group of dear old friends, whose bodies were already
dust and ashes in the Swedish grave-yards, and in the cemeteries of
the old and new worlds. A hearty burst of joy escaped from my lips as
I recognized them. We laughed, cried, shook hands, and kissed first
on one cheek and then on the other, with the same enthusiasm and
naturalness we would have shown had we been inhabitants of dear old
mother Earth.
“Come, Frederika! Dear Frederika! don’t stay gazing on that old body!
Leave friends who cannot talk with you and come with us!” they clamored
on all sides. Their voices were like a full orchestra; besides, some
had instruments of music, upon which they improvised little songs to my
honor. I was fairly bewildered. Presently they formed a circle about
me and commenced whirling rapidly around and around. I felt as in a
hammock swayed by the wind; a dreamy lethargy stole over me, and I
gradually became unconscious; and thus, I am told, they bore me through
the earth’s atmosphere, out in the stellar spaces, to a new world--a
world not of the earth, earthy, but the New Jerusalem which I had so
often pictured to my fancy.
A soft, pleasant breeze blowing directly upon my face, restored me to
consciousness. I opened my eyes, and, lo! I was reclining upon a divan
in a great pavilion. The friends whom I had previously recognized were
around me, some making magnetic passes over me, others engaged in
preparations for my comfort. Upon seeing me awaken, several friends
approached with flowers and fruits. The term “flowers,” though a
beautiful appellation, gives but a faint idea of these marvellous
creations.
My attention was particularly attracted to one whose corolla was of
deep violet striped with gold, having long silvery filaments spreading
out from the cup in lines of light like the luminous trail of a comet.
In a state of delicious languor, I watched the varied wonders before
me. The pavilion, which was of silver lace or filagree woven in the
most exquisite patterns, was a hundred or more feet in circumference,
and adorned with open arches and columns on its several sides. These
columns and arches were of coral and gold, which contrasted with the
silver network, and the blossoms and foliage of curious plants and
vines which graced the interior, forming altogether a structure of
singular elegance and beauty.
Numberless forms like the fabled peris and gods of mythology glided in
and out of these arches, and approached me with offerings of welcome.
One blooming Venetian maiden presented me with a crystal containing a
golden liquid, which she said was the elixir of the poets and painters
of her nation. The name she gave it was “The Poet’s Fancy,” and she
informed me that it was distilled from a plant which fed upon or
absorbed the emanations which the active mentalities of these poetic
beings exhaled.
This information was quite new to me, and gave me pleasure, as it
accorded with my ideas of correspondence. So I sipped the “Poet’s
Fancy,” and imagined that its delicious, aromatic flavor vivified
me like rays of sunshine. If, previously, I had been charmed, I now
certainly experienced a power of enjoyment and quickness of perception
tenfold increased.
I then inquired for Swedenborg, Spurzheim, and Lavatar. “You will meet
them further on,” said she, smiling. “They are not here.” I was so well
pleased with her that I twined my arm around her fairy-like form and
we glided away together. As I desired to obtain a peep at the outside
of the beautiful pavilion, my companion led the way, pausing here and
there to present me to groups who had advanced for that purpose. The
company I found to be composed of writers and painters, interspersed
with a few of my own personal friends; and I felt gratified to
find myself so well received by those whom I had known on earth as
celebrities.
“’Tis strange,” I remarked to my companion, “that such choice minds
should all be gathered together in one place.”
“They are spirits congenial to your own,” said she. “Like attracts
like, and they have come from their respective homes in the spirit
world to welcome you here.”
“Ah,” said I, “I now begin to understand what all this fine company
means! This is my reception.”
As we were leaving the pavilion we were joined by Herr Von ----, the
celebrated Swedish naturalist who had recently entered the spirit
world. He congratulated me upon my safe arrival, and kindly offered to
act as _cicerone_ and to point out to me the marvels by which I was
surrounded.
To my astonishment, on reaching the open air I discovered that the
pavilion was located upon the summit of a lofty mountain. The face of
this mountain was of many colors and glistened like precious stones. My
friend led me to the point of a precipice on one side and bade me look
down. This I did, and beheld phosphorescent rays issuing from the sides.
“What wonder is this?” I asked. He informed me the mountain was
magnetic in its character, and that it was, so to speak, the first
station from earth, and a point easily attained by a spirit newly
arriving from that planet. He said I was not permanently to remain upon
the mountain, but was placed there until I should become acclimated to
the spirit atmosphere, and to acquire strength before travelling to
that portion of the spirit land which would form my permanent abode.
The apex of the mountain formed a flat plain about two miles in extent.
We walked onward some distance, when he pointed out to me another
pavilion, much larger than the one to which I had been borne. The
exterior form of each was alike, and resembled a Turkish mosque; the
crown-like canopy which formed the top being surmounted by a ball so
dazzling in brightness that I was obliged to turn my gaze from it. This
ball was composed of an electric combination, which shed its rays far
through space. “And,” said the good Herr Von ----, “as the pavilion is
used for the reception of the friendless and the homeless, they are
attracted and guided to it by its coruscations.”
We proceeded some steps further, and he showed me how the mountain,
which is steep and precipitous on the northern exposure, sloped into
broken chains and lower elevations on the southern; and from this
point, looking down, I beheld through the clear atmosphere a billowy
landscape, clothed with soft, rich verdure, more fresh and green to the
eye than that which covers dear mother Earth.