AND THE PROPHET WAS STONED.
Those who believe, as I do, that spiritual beings can and do, subject
to general laws and for certain purposes, communicate with us, and
even produce material effects in the world around us, must see in
the steady advance of inquiry and of interest in these questions the
assurance that, so far as their beliefs are logical deductions from
the phenomena they have witnessed, those beliefs will at no distant
date be accepted by all truth-seeking inquirers.--_Alfred Russell
Wallace._
One Sunday afternoon when the two friends sat together, with Planchette
as telephone to the invisible world, the responses were unusually
prompt and full, for a daytime effort. Prescott came and was in a most
obliging mood, as charming as of old. Without warning, when in the
middle of a long sentence that he was writing at his usual furious
pace, some invisible force drew the Butterfly’s arm from Planchette and
sent the little board flying across the room. At the same instant she
rose, raised her right hand and pointed directly before her, her face
ashy and an unearthly look in her dilated eyes. Straining her faculty
of sight Cartice looked in the direction of her friend’s outstretched
finger, but saw nothing. In a few seconds the beautiful seeress sank to
her chair exhausted, with dry mouth and stiffened tongue, like one who
returns to consciousness after a deep faint.
Mrs. Doring rushed for water for her to drink, and cologne with which
to lave her face, embraced her, and soothed her with reassuring words
until she was herself again, though more subdued and humble than ever
before.
“What was it, dear?” asked Cartice at last.
“Prescott,” she gasped. “He was as real in appearance as ever I saw
him in life. The scar on his left cheek was plain, and the tooth in
front that had been built up with gold was just as it used to be, for
he smiled and I saw it distinctly. He spoke, but I could not understand
what he said. He came so sudden, and I was so frightened. I hope he
will never do that again. It gives me a horrible feeling to see any of
them.”
After a little coaxing she touched Planchette again, to ask an
explanation of the singular occurrence.
“I did not mean to frighten you, poor child,” wrote Prescott, “but I
wanted to see if I could make myself visible to you for an instant.
The exhaustion you experienced afterward was not all owing to fright.
In order to appear to you I took a certain substance from your body
with which to make myself visible. I made my body, for the moment, out
of yours. That leaves you weaker, but what I took will be restored
to you. This vital substance is everywhere, and your body, being a
magnet, attracts it to you, particularly when you are out doors in the
sunlight. Oh, if you but knew the valve of sunshine, and air--pure,
fresh air.”
“Why couldn’t I see you, too?” Cartice asked. “I should not be
frightened; but even so, I am willing to be.”
“I have tried to lift the veil from your eyes, but cannot.”
“But the scar and the tooth of gold? Were they not of the cast-off body
only, or do you have them still?” she asked.
“The human eye must have that with which to identify those from this
side, so they are simulated as they last appeared in the flesh.”
One evening, when another was writing, Planchette was unexpectedly and
violently flung to the floor, by a blow on the Butterfly’s delicate
arm, from an unseen hand. When order had been restored, Prescott took
possession, and it was plain to be seen that he was agitated. He wrote:
“I tried to prevent that, but could not. Chrissalyn must be prepared to
expect almost anything. The situation here is incomprehensible to you.”
“What is it that makes the Butterfly a medium, if she will pardon the
word?” Cartice asked.
“Something for which there is yet no proper word. You would call it,
magnetism. She is wonderful,--powerful, magnetic to the dead, as you
call us, as well as to the living--you cannot imagine how much.”
Cartice had ever been sensible of a powerful and unaccountable
attraction in her friend. She had always loved to watch Chrissalyn,
she knew not why, loved to be near her and never wearied of her.
For others, both men and women, the Butterfly possessed the same
attraction. If she wanted to ensnare the most wary masculine mortal,
she had only to cast her eyes upon him and he was hers. If she wished
for the good-will or friendship of a woman, a smile and a pleasant word
or two were all she need give in order to gain it.
“Tell me, what is magnetism?” was the next question.
“A power we cannot see but can feel--the power that attracts through
all nature, but I cannot define it, for as yet I know very little about
it myself.”
When asked to explain his manner of using Planchette, Prescott said:
“When the Butterfly’s hand rests upon it we stand behind her, with
our hands above hers--a few inches above--and we move her hand and
Planchette by the power of magnetism.”
“Why can’t you use my hand as well as hers?” Cartice asked.
“Because you are a positive. Your magnetism is of the controlling and
not the controllable kind.”
Early in her investigations Mrs. Doring learned that the people on the
unseen side of life are like unto those seen, in that there are good
and bad, wise and foolish, busy and idle, truth-tellers and liars, sane
and insane. Character there is exactly what it was here, growing better
if it aspire and worse if it be indifferent to growth, for evolution
apparently goes on forever and forever.
She learned, too, that a message was not necessarily infallible,
because it came from that we call a spirit. Frequently it was wofully
fallible. Liars will lie and the mischievous make mischief wherever
they are. In short, undeveloped souls, no matter where they dwell, give
very direct evidence of their imperfection.
Yet, all things considered, Cartice met comparatively few obstacles in
her study of psychic life and law. Much, to be sure, was inexplicable
and perplexing; but that which was satisfying outweighed all that was
disheartening. To the harmony existing between Chrissalyn and herself
she attributed the remarkable success of their efforts, harmony being
the key to all the secrets and forces of nature. Then too they sat with
business-like regularity. Now she understood why the “conditions” for
which professional mediums are such noted sticklers, are necessary.
When we stop to think of it, we see that we must comply with prescribed
conditions to do anything. If we send a letter through the post office,
the conditions imposed oblige us to stamp it properly and post it. If
we merely write the letter and fling it out of the window, ignoring the
needful conditions, most assuredly it will never reach its destination.
If we wish to make a journey the conditions oblige us to go aboard
whatever railroad carriage or ship will take us where we want to go.
The knowledge gained through Planchette was precious beyond price to
Mrs. Doring. “Is it not the answer to the riddle of the ages?” she
asked herself. “Does it not change the face of everything, by giving
us not only the key to death, but to the great mystery of life? In the
light of this knowledge life takes on an importance, a sacredness and
responsibility formerly inconceivable. Heretofore we have hoped that
it goes on beyond the destruction of the body, now we know it does,
and that we are shaping our destiny by every thought and act--building
indeed for eternity.
“Of what moment are the ills of life here, with this glorious vista
before us? Who, having seen this light, need be cast down by any
earthly trouble? In the face of it are not all the experiences which
wring our hearts and drain us of our tears mere fictions or illusions?
“Since Death is dead, what is there to affright or distress us? Though
to-day be lost, to-morrow is ours. Though our dear ones pass out of
sight there is neither separation nor bereavement. Scientific knowledge
makes it plain that immortality is not dependent upon belief; but is
a fact in nature. Though we may wander in any part of the universe
there is nothing to fear, for we are indestructible. Disease, war,
accident, every terror known to man, is swept out of existence by this
indisputable demonstration of our deathlessness.
“How poor and pitiful is the pursuit of happiness in which all engage
here, when seen by the light of this revelation! Is it not clear as
sunshine that the purpose of life is not happiness, as we misinterpret
the word, but growth? And how shall we grow? By getting knowledge of
law and living according to that knowledge. Then we need seek no more
for happiness for it will be one of our indestructible possessions--the
happiness for which nature destined us, but which consists not in
external conditions, but internal development.”
Under the influence of this knowledge Mrs. Doring became transformed
into a new being. Her previous life now seemed to have been simply
a blind groping after the most unstable and foolish ideals,--a more
intellectual childhood. So uplifted and filled to overflowing was
she with joy and gratitude that her face took on a new beauty that
impressed even the least observing of her friends. But one flavor of
bitterness tinged her cup, and that was that she was forbidden to share
the glad tidings with others.
Chrissalyn had been insistent that nothing be told, and Cartice
was obliged to yield to her ruling on this point, and also saw the
necessity for it, but longed fervently to gather in many dwelling in
darkness and share her light with them. Why hide it under the bushel of
timidity? Was not all the world searching for that which had come in
beautiful simplicity and generous fulness to her? How grateful others
would be to know what she knew? She was humbly, profoundly grateful,
and of course they, too, would be.
After a time this pent-up fountain began to overrun its borders and
trickle its way to other ears. When she heard people bewailing the
difficult and cruel conditions under which they suffered, she could
not help giving of her inexhaustible store of comfort. She must say
to them, “These things are unreal and of no moment. Your true life is
above and beyond them always, and is of unlimited possibilities here
and hereafter.”
And when they wept because of some slain lamb, she said, “He is not
dead; he never died and never shall die. This is an appearance only,
an illusion. There is no death. Life goes on, on, without end, I _know_
it.”
In order that they might believe and be comforted, she related
the experiences on which her assurances were based, leaving out
Chrissalyn’s name, of course.
She met the fate of all who have lovingly tried to set poor, ignorant
humanity free from its self-imposed chains. She was stoned.
Some heard her with tolerant pity, as we humor weak-minded people by
pretending to accept their statements and vagaries, but turned from
the subject as quickly as they could. Not a few sneered openly, and
with the brutal frankness of small and self-satisfied minds coarsely
expressed their contempt for her credulity. Others patronizingly
said they believed in _her_ honesty, but were positive she was being
deceived. Still others shrugged their shoulders in disgust, saying that
they loathed the “supernatural,” and would none of it. This benighted
class labels their dead with that obnoxious word and shoves them out
of mind as quickly as possible. Some of the contemptible creatures who
advertise their lack of intelligence and breeding by putting their
hands over their mouth when they talk to hide their impolite and
ignorant grinning, could not listen to Cartice with naked lips at all.
But perhaps she was most astonished at the “conventional believers who
disbelieve,” those who accept all the spirit manifestations described
in the book of their faith, yet reject everything modern that helps to
prove the truth of them.
Some listened to her story and then asked the surprising, the
astounding question: “What good can come of it all, even if it be
true?” If the dead did not come to tell them how to make fortunate
financial speculations, or whom they are destined to marry, they saw no
use in their coming at all.
Here and there Mrs. Doring encountered some who took interest in her
revelations as a matter of curiosity, and wanted to gratify their love
of wonder-mongering, by seeing Planchette at work.
A few, a sacred few, gave reverent ear, and were eager to learn all
they could of the marvelous and mysterious thing called life; but these
had become as little children--receptive, and therefore were prepared
to enter the kingdom of knowledge, which is heaven.
But, alas! for the unfortunate many who cannot be enlightened, because
they are already wise in their own conceit. Having lived here a score
or two of years they fancy they know all the Creator’s plans and
purposes and can learn no more. At the door of their mind they post a
sentinel armed with a club, whose duty it is to beat and drive away any
stray angel in the guise of a thought or idea that may wander near.
Some who did not want to be disturbed in their enjoyment of things
external, pettishly said: “All you tell may be true, but one world at
a time is my motto.” Yet any one who said that a child should be left
uninstructed and unprepared for the grown-up life ahead of him would,
very appropriately, be called a fool.
Cartice learned what all prophets and teachers have learned to their
cost--that the world is in bondage to its own ignorance, because it
refuses to be liberated. The minds of men are in thrall to a law we
have but recently named--the law of hypnotism, which is at once both
the agent of darkness and of light.
Everybody lives continually under hypnotic influence, otherwise the
power of suggestion. What we call public opinion is thought that has
massed itself into a barrier so formidable that only spirits the most
heroic and dauntless dare assail it. The many are fused together as one
and become a gigantic hypnotizer of men.
It has been demonstrated a million times that if there is anything a
man cannot do it is to stand out against the united thought of his
fellow men. Human beings, for the most part, are in slavery to whatever
thought has formed their environment, “as neat prisoners as ever slept
in jails.” In other words they are hypnotized and refuse to be aroused
from their hypnotic sleep.
All who allow others to do their thinking live and die in a hypnotic
trance. The thought that is steadily thrown upon the minds of children
year after year usually hypnotizes them for life. This is proven in
their religious leanings. The majority follow the lead of their parents
and it is the same in politics. The boy is a democrat or republican,
because his father was. We call it the force of early education, but we
might as well say early hypnotism.
The press is the greatest of hypnotic operators. It makes public
opinion through the hypnotic principle. Its daily reiteration puts the
minds of impressionable readers into as profound a hypnotic trance as
any professional operator ever achieves. Every orator who sways his
audience does so by means of the hypnotic law, and every writer who
thrills his readers sets the same law in motion. In it lies the power
of all government, from the primitive paternal to the broadest Republic
the earth has yet produced--the will of the passably intelligent few is
imposed upon the less intelligent many.
Even the most potent force known--the attraction that draws the sexes
together, operates largely through hypnotism, or suggestion. Do we not
become like that we hear and see and live among? Are we not the product
of whatever thought we have absorbed during our life? In short, we are
that thought embodied, neither more nor less. Steady suggestion makes
public opinion, that terrible, formidable, irresistible wall against
which new thought must beat and hack and storm for centuries sometimes
before an incision can be made in it.
We are all more or less in an hypnotic sleep. Certain intellectual
hair-splitters deprecate the use of the word, hypnotism, when employed
to describe a condition of mind that is not sleep, as we commonly use
that term. Yet we may be awake to certain facts and asleep to others.
When one cannot see a truth for a time and then recognizes it, we say
he awakens to it. Was he not asleep as far as it was concerned before?
The hypnotic principle is as old as the human race. Yea, the hills are
young beside it. By means of it we have become what we are, and because
of it our progress has been slow, for the hypnotized subject holds to
his illusions with a tenacity that throws barnacles into the shade.
We were hypnotized into the old thought that enslaves us, and must be
hypnotized out of it into that which shall set us free.
This law is operative far beyond our range of knowledge. It links this
world or this state of being, rather, to the one that follows it.
What is the spirit medium but a person under the hypnotic influence
of a resident of the invisible world? And many who do not dream of it
are hypnotized to an astonishing extent by suggestions from the same
source.
Therefore, it is not remarkable that Cartice Doring found nearly
everybody holding aggressively to the thought that had formed them,
no matter how limited and erroneous it might be, and ready to fight,
tooth and nail, anything contrary to it. They groaned in pain, yet at a
suggestion of relief from misery they but hugged it closer, lest it be
taken from them by force.
She did not expect any one to believe so tremendous a tale as she had
to tell on hearsay evidence alone; but she hoped to find some interest
and desire to search and learn. When many turned away and she grew
heartsick because they would not let her help them with that which had
helped her, she thought she understood Jesus weeping over Jerusalem.
“Ye would not! no; ye would not!” is ever the cry of all who yearn to
make the yoke easy and the burden light for humanity.
And yet no earnest effort made by any soul is entirely vain. Mrs.
Doring found two who would among the many who would not--two who were
eager to learn, who begged for the chance. They were the Joys, the last
persons one would expect to turn their attention to anything not known
by the name of pleasure. As a matter of fact they were Mr. and Mrs.
Hanley, but everybody called them the Joys, because their days were an
unbroken ripple of delight, and they were continually making a joyful
noise over something. They joyed in each other, in their children,
in their friends, in their home, in the world at large, in life,
in everything. All days of the year were for them days of jubilee.
Everybody welcomed them because they carried with them a joyful
atmosphere, a little of which generally rubbed off and stuck to those
whom they visited, for a time at least. A gay, guiltless pair were
they, with no need of prayer, and no sins to be forgiven, so far as
any one could see. It may be wondered why they cared to learn anything
about life’s extension since they found this world so pleasant. Yet
care they did, and gladly turned from the impermanent things of the
world that had delighted them to study reverently the great question of
our destination.
Chrissalyn liked them and was finally persuaded to let them enter
Planchette’s charmed arena, on condition that they tell it not in Goth
nor whisper it in Askalon.
Their very first experience was convincing beyond doubt or question.
All they had joyed in before was as nothing to the joy they found in
the knowledge that came to them through the little board. In spite of
their pleasure-loving natures and phenomenal optimism, they belonged to
the thinking fraternity; and now that their outlook was extended beyond
the boundaries that so far had hedged them in, they saw ahead an
endless life of Joy, and that intensified and ennobled the joys of the
present. They had been happy always, but now they were secure in their
happiness--nothing could take it from them.