SEANCE WITH MISS HELEN BEERY AT ONSET.
"Spirits are never finely touched
But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
Herself the glory of the creditor,
Both thanks and use."
At one of Miss Helen Berry's seances at Onset in the summer of 1885,
there came a young female spirit, apparently about sixteen years old.
She took me by both hands and led me up to the cabinet, where she
greeted me very warmly. As she could bear more light than most of the
forms, I had no difficulty in studying her face and figure. She was a
little below the average height, lithe and graceful in all her
movements. A cloud of dark golden hair drifted around her neck and
shoulders, falling far below her waist. Her dress was pure white, of a
rich fabric, so thin that it revealed a form beautiful as the finest
Greek statue. She appeared more like a dream of ideal life, than a
creature who had ever walked the earth.
There are moments of exultation in the life of every artist, when his
soul reaches out to visions of great beauty. No canvas or marble can
record these visions. In his associations with the world, he may, at
times, catch glimpses that remind him of what he has seen, but nowhere
does he realize, as a whole, the perfection of those forms that have
allured him from his ordinary surroundings.
Was this charming creature one of those beings who had haunted my
dreams?--who, in the still hours of the night, had sometimes dispelled
the darkness by the glow of her presence?
If I hesitated a moment in recognizing her, it was because she had never
before appeared clothed in so beautiful a form, or if so I had failed to
appreciate it. Perhaps it was due, in part, to the negative condition I
was in, which allowed a freer and more perfect development, undisturbed
by any mental action on my part; and this idea is strengthened by the
fact that, in all my connection with these seances, what I most desired
to obtain seldom came until after I had become more or less indifferent
about it. As I stood beside this form, I passed my fingers through her
long silken tresses, and put my hand upon her finely formed head. As she
laid her face to mine, she said in the most earnest yet tender tones,
"You did not think I would come." This was true; tired with my journey
and the sultry heat, I was indifferent to taking an active part in the
seance. I was, however, in a listless way, interested in what came to
others, and had given up expecting that anything would come to me; and
yet, had I reflected for a moment, I should have known that at any true
seance, where I was present and the conditions favorable, it would have
been hardly possible for her to keep away. The consciousness of her
presence at other times than in the seance-room is no uncommon
occurrence with me.
In the seance-room, where she comes so strong and substantial, I have
often put forth little playful, but somewhat provocative remarks, in
order to draw out, as far as possible, an expression of her character.
Sometimes these things excited her, but never, except for the moment,
disturbed the harmony between us.
At this interview I was not in a condition of mind likely to attract
spirits, whether in or out of the flesh. In the course of conversation,
I dropped a remark that disturbed her. She grasped my hand nervously,
her chest rose and fell with increased respiration, and without making
any reply she retreated to the cabinet.
Thinking it possible that I might have displeased her, and that she
would not return, I went to my seat. A moment afterward, I was surprised
by her rushing out and kneeling down in front of me. Throwing her bare
arms around my neck and pulling my head down to her, that others might
not listen to what was said, she poured forth, in the most earnest and
impassioned strain, her thoughts; talking as only a woman can talk under
the highest inspiration.
I had long since abandoned all doubts of the existence of these beings,
and had been, in a quiet and affectionate way, studying the different
phases of character manifested by them. Like many others who have
investigated this subject, I had met with things which I could not
understand or harmonize with my experience. This was leading me to
conclusions that I intuitively felt were not true, and yet I could not
extricate myself from the network of apparent evidence that surrounded
me.
That she understood my mental condition, was evinced by the fact that
her whole force and energy were directed to this one subject. Her form
trembled and vibrated with emotion as she uttered sentence after
sentence in clear explanation of what had perplexed me. Raising her
head, and tossing back her long hair, she grasped both my hands, and,
with a face beaming with light, said:
"It seems strange to you, but what can I do? We are subject to
conditions; and if I come at all, it must be in harmony with them.
There are spheres and circles we cannot penetrate, if the controlling
influence is against us. We are still human, still yearning for
affection,--that love which is the silken cord that binds us all. What
would you not do to reach those dear to your heart? You understand me
now."
There was a remarkably childlike simplicity in the way she unburdened
her mind, giving free expression to her feelings, bearing me mentally
along with her, until I was lost to everything else. That is all. There
are thoughts and feelings which no language can express. Like the
silvery notes of a sweet song that echo in the distance, they revel in
their freedom from restraint, and forever elude our grasp.
I know the breath that fans my cheek,
The thoughts, the words I cannot speak,
The arms that round me twine.
What need of words when thoughts are told
In light that gleams like burnished gold,
With pulse that throbs to mine?
Never before had I listened to such eloquence. Every word, with its rich
intonation, is indelibly stamped upon my memory, and I regret that, for
personal reasons, it cannot be recorded here.
Exhausted by her long effort, as she rose and led me to the cabinet, I
noticed that her form was rapidly changing. Suddenly, like the
extinguishing of a light, she passed into that invisible space whence
she came.
There were no "test conditions" here; and there might have been a dozen
confederates, for aught I can prove. It is barely possible that this
delightful being belonged on this side of life; but whether on this side
or the other, in the fulness of my artistic nature, I thanked God that
such beauty could exist anywhere. The evidence of truthfulness in what
came to me at this seance rests on something stronger than barred
windows and locked doors;--it was in the complete embodiment of the
character, both mentally and physically.
The seance closed, and I returned to Glen Cove by the road that skirts
the shore. The south wind played with the blue waters of the bay,
throwing up myriads of little waves that danced in the moonlight. As I
stood gazing upon the sea, baring my feverish brow to the cooling
breeze, I felt that my whole nature was flowing out into a vast circle
of being. Thoughts, words, feelings, all blended with the mellow light
which flooded the scene. If I was not supremely happy, it was not from
lack of harmony with everything around me.
There is ever a tinge of sadness in the background of life. With the
beauty of the waves comes the low moan as they break upon the shore.
With the warmth of friendship, comes the pain of parting, and, sadder
still, that relentless fate that hurries us from those we love into the
dim, uncertain future. The sands of life are golden only where thought
diffuses itself without shadows, and the light that charms us flows from
the object of our affections.
It was late, and I retired for the night--closed my eyes, but not to
sleep. The walls of my room disappeared, and my vision swept over an
undefined and illimitable space. Before me like a mist, but perfectly
outlined, glided the beautiful being who only a few minutes before had
come so close to me. Soon she was joined by others, lightly drifting,
floating through the air.
As round the mountain's craggy steep
The trailing vapors curve and sweep,
So, hand in hand and side by side,
Through space unmeasured, soft they glide.
Now there, now here--so far, so near--
With outstretched arms they beckoned me,
And, like the murmur of the sea,
Their voices broke upon my ear.
As they passed near me, a hand was laid upon my face; I started, sprang
up, looked around; there was no one in the room. All was still save the
low surging of the tide that swept the beach below.