MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES IN THE SPIRIT WORLD.
May 5, 1866, I parted with my tenement of clay, and was born into the
world, not only of primal _causes_, but also that in which all _effects_
of past living are made manifest. Mind and body were alike a wreck. I
had no great satisfaction for the past, and but little hope for the
future.
While passing out from the material I was dimly conscious of a crowd of
beings pressing around me,—faces I had known long before, but which I
had not seen for years, forms once familiar, but which the passing
scenes of life had blotted from memory; men whom I had met in times past
around the social board, and amid scenes of convivial allurement, where
we had wasted the precious, God-given moments in song or story,
unfruitful of any profitable result; those of whose destiny I was
ignorant, and whom I supposed had forgotten me as I had ceased to
remember them; all were here, recalling by their presence scenes and
memories that I could wish to be dead and buried beyond possibility of
resurrection.
All the events of my life passed before my inner vision like a panorama,
and I saw myself as others saw me,—the victim of wasted energies and an
ill-spent life. How keenly did I regret much that I had done, and much
more that I might have done, but did not! It was then and there, while
seemingly unconscious to mortal things, I began to fully realize that
omission is oftentimes as great a sin as commission,—that inactivity is
as disastrous to the spirit as misplaced volition.
At this time, I did not see the forms and faces of any of those I had
loved, and whom it might be supposed would be first at the death-bed of
one so near to them. These forms and phantoms that surrounded me were
encompassed by a cloud of heavy vapor, that entirely veiled the horizon
from my sight. I strove to turn from them, but could not; they hedged me
in on every side, and, while they spake no word, they seemed to mock me
with their taunting looks and gestures.
This was my first spirit experience. I have since learned that it
consisted entirely of the reflection of past recollections upon my mind,
but it was extremely annoying and unpleasant.
My next experience was standing by myself, outside of my physical body,
alone, so far as I could see, gazing down upon the old, worn-out
tenement, that I had recently vacated. I found myself clothed in a body
precisely similar to the one I had left, and not in much better
condition, apparently. I was perplexed and bewildered; for, though
spurning many of the old theologic notions of the Hereafter, this was
certainly not the fulfillment of my conceptions of a future life.
I gazed around, hoping to attract the attention of some one who could
give me an explanation, or in the expectation of meeting my boon
companions; but all in vain,—I could see no one. All was misty, or
rather in a smoky fog, like the streets of London at midday, though I
have since been informed that I was not alone; that there were loving,
helping spirits watching over me, to assist me when possible, but my
mental condition prevented me from perceiving them; and that the smoky
vapor was an emanation from my own spirit, and did not proceed from the
state of the atmosphere.
While ruminating to myself, as collectedly as my condition would allow,
I observed a party of individuals approach and take a view of my
remains; and what appeared very curious to me, while they seemed very
far away from me, I could distinctly hear their remarks. These parties
were mortals, still dwelling on earth, drawn by a morbid kind of
interest to take a final view of my body. However, I would they had
stayed away, for they did my spirit more harm than good.
“Poor devil,” said one, “he’s gone at last. Well, he made a wreck of
himself, sure enough.”
“Aye,” replied another; “he might have done better, but he would not;
and so he’s gone. I always knew how it would turn out.”
“With all his singing and dreaming,” remarked a third, “he was no better
than the rest of us. The old one would show himself pretty often.”
“That’s so,” chimed in the fourth; “wilt thee look at him now, lying
there, when he might have been alive and well, like the rest of us!
Well, he’s gone to his account now, poor lad!”
I waited to hear no more. Mind and brain were alike maddened by what I
_had_ heard. It was all true enough; but every word seemed like a
scorpion’s sting, to pierce my soul. Who were these, that they should
condemn one who had not the power to defend himself? Were they free from
the common taint of sin?
Thus I questioned; but unable to solve the mighty problems that seemed
pressing down upon me, I made one herculean effort, and, bursting the
bonds that confined me to my useless body, I rushed from the place, away
I knew not where, I cared not; only to get relief for my burning,
tortured soul.
And here allow, if you please, one digression. Let me warn you, oh,
mortals, to mind how you speak and think of those who have departed the
mortal life. Let your thoughts and words be as charitable and kind as
possible; for by so doing you may furnish a beacon-light that will
brighten their paths upward. But if you speak ill of them, if you hurl
the stone of censure at departing spirits, you may furnish the heavy
weight that will drag them downward.
Alas, I did not understand the cure of sin-sick, tortured souls; and I
sought that refuge that had been, and was now again, my curse, but which
I vainly thought would drown all recollection and bring relief.
I soon found myself in a well-known spot, one of my former haunts—the
back parlor, just beyond the taproom—of a public-house. I seated myself
as naturally as ever, and waited for some one to comply with my demand
for liquor; but while the bar-maid flitted about, here and there, and
several times brushed against my person in passing, she paid no
attention to me whatever, and I felt myself neglected indeed.
Presently, I observed, entering the apartment, one whom I had
occasionally seen at that resort, and who I understood to be a hard
drinker. He called for liquor, and when it was brought, raised the glass
to his lips. Suddenly, by a sort of fascination, I was drawn to his
side, and while he poured the fiery liquid down his throat, my whole
being seemed to vibrate in sympathy, and became saturated with the fumes
of the liquor. At every drop he tasted, I seemed to quaff a
corresponding one; and I found I could indulge myself in that way to any
extent. I remained by his side, drinking long and deep. Our potations
lasted for hours. Oh, the craving desire I had for that deadly fluid! My
deep delight and utter abandonment of self you cannot realize.
At last our potations ceased. Abused and outraged nature could bear no
more, and my companion sunk down in a complete state of insensibility.
Then I strove to tear myself from him, but all in vain; I was held to
his prostrate form by a cord as unyielding as bands of steel; I could
not free myself from the conditions I had brought upon me.
And here my retribution began; for, while the liquid we had drank
together had drugged his senses, and benumbed his faculties, it had
affected me in an entirely different way, serving to arouse all my
sensibilities, fire my nervous system with flames of unquenchable
desire, and, in fact, to make me keenly alive to all my surroundings.
The least noise fell upon my hearing like the dismal knell of a lost
soul; the sound of a passing foot startled me like a peal of thunder;
and when the time-piece of the old clockhouse tolled the hour, my whole
being vibrated in unison. I wanted to get away from everybody and
everything I had known,—to be alone by myself where no one could find
me, where life and activity were unknown, and where I could rest my
burning brain.
Alas, I could not! Like one tied to a stake, I was condemned to pass
what seemed to me a century of time by the side of one with whom I had
nothing in common, save the craving of a perverted appetite. I cannot
convey to you an idea of the horror, darkness, and despair that rent my
soul while thus bound to that form of besotted humanity. The hours
dragged, until at last there came a gleam of relief. Boniface entered
the apartment, aroused my sleeping companion, and sent him to the
pump-room to bathe his head. At the first plash of the water a thrill of
exquisite delight passed over me; a second and a third, and the band
that had held me snapped in twain, and I was free. Never did weary
captive rejoice at his deliverance more than did I at that moment. I
made no stay, but hastened from the place, and have never seen it nor
its inmates since.
Still drifting along, my only aim and purpose being to gain some lonely,
retired spot, where I might find rest and refreshment, I soon found
myself rising gradually from the ground, and floating or sailing along,
above the heads of the people.
Before long, the city streets vanished from my sight, and I seemed to be
approaching a strange part of the country; houses and warehouses
disappeared, sunny glades and shady nooks came into view; forest trees,
clothed with garments of living green, beneath which tiny flowerets
nodded their spicy heads, and scented the balmy air with their rich
perfume.
Away to the left I perceived the azure gleam of dimpling, sparkling
waters; in the distance, towered the lofty peaks of purple-crested
mountains; the sun shone brightly in the heavens, while the atmosphere
became melodious with the hum of insects and the chirping of birds. No
sound nor sight of human life could I perceive; all was silent, save the
murmurings of nature, which fell upon my tortured being like an anthem
of peace.
“Surely,” said I to myself, “this must be another country; it is
entirely different from any I have ever seen before; the atmosphere
wears that peculiar, transparent haze seen only in the lands of a
Southern clime.”
But I was too weary for further cognitions. I seemed to drink in the
charm and beauty of the scene without any volition of will or thought,
and to find comfort and rest in so doing.
At last, I descried a perfect gem of a spot, one that appeared formed
for a fairy bower; just beyond a leaping, laughing streamlet of limpid
water, nestling quietly at the foot of a moss-covered, arch-shaped rocky
wall, I beheld a tiny cove, so beautiful that it seemed almost sacrilege
to intrude therein.
Emerald banks, as beautiful as silk pile velvet, starred with a
profusion of creamy golden-eyed blossoms; trailing vines like
maiden-hair ferns creeping over the rocks; shrubs of vivid green, with
scarlet bells, swinging their perfumed censers upon the breeze;
sparkling sunbeams and cooling shadows, constituted a place of repose
that a monarch might enjoy.
And there, amid the beauties of Nature’s works, surrounded by the
splendors of creation, pointing to the wondrous power and beneficence of
God, I sank down upon the emerald sod; and, lulled by the peace and
quiet of the place, my fevered senses grew calm, my pulses even, the
blood cooled in my veins, and I fell into as complete a slumber as it is
possible for a disembodied spirit to experience.
I was unconscious of the lapse of time, yet I now know it was several
days before I again awoke to a knowledge of my external surroundings.
I was still alone; no human presence could I discern; the flowers still
bloomed, the waters danced and gleamed, the sun shone, and all was as
beautiful and as real as before. It appeared to me I had reposed there
but a few short hours.
I aroused myself, and, stepping down to the banks of the stream,
proceeded to lave my face and hands, precisely as I would have done were
I in the body. The water refreshed me. I seemed renewed with life and
vigor; but with the new strength there also came a remembrance of what I
had been, and what I had done, and I sank down upon the mossy bed
overwhelmed with the recollection of my folly and madness.
Remorse had again entered my presence, and my soul cowered down before
it in bitter agony; tears and sobs mingled together and shook my frame
to its very center, and I wrestled in spirit with the “might have been,”
which was as tangible to me as any objective form would be to mortals.
As the tempest within my spirit grew less, I began to _feel_ a
holy presence approaching. Presently a low, soft strain of
exquisitely-modulated music fell upon my hearing; so faint, yet so
sweet, did it at first appear that it seemed to blend with and
form a part of the music of the murmuring waters and rustling
leaves. Gradually it swelled louder, clearer, and sweeter, until
it culminated in a burst of triumphant ecstasy, that made the very
grasses leap in unison.
My whole being was stilled; a deep peace pervaded my system. I was a
_man_ again,—a creature of God, and one worthy to become a
representative of his kingdom.
As these thoughts permeated my being, causing it to grow calm and
restful, I felt what seemed to be a breath of cool, invigorating air
upon my temples, thrilling my whole frame with an indescribable
sensation of delight, and, on looking up, I was amazed, but not
startled, to observe the form of a venerable patriarch bending over me,
and manipulating my brow with the tips of his fingers.
His face was smooth and fair, as though no carking care had ever left
its impress thereon, surmounted by a lofty brow, gleaming with a might
of intellect, and crowned with a wealth of snowy, silken hair. A long,
massy beard, lustrous with whiteness, fell upon his breast. He was clad
in a long, purple robe of silken stuff; sandals of glistening brightness
were upon his feet, while in his hand he carried a staff that was
remarkable for its brilliancy. His features were luminous with the light
of reflected love and benevolence; a halo of radiance encircled his
whole being, which scintillated with sparks of light as he moved.
Subsequently I learned that this halo was the aura flowing forth from
his spiritual structure, the brilliancy of which revealed the purity and
beauty of his interior condition.
Abashed and humbled before the majestic glory of this presence, I hid my
face from sight, and cowered down as if for concealment.
“Fear not, my son, I have come to help and encourage thee; thy mortal
ways were rough and devious; thy spiritual paths shall yet be ways of
peace. Lift up thine head, that thy soul may be annointed with the balm
of healing.”
I had heard no sound of voice, and yet these were the thoughts that
flowed into the interior sensorium of my mind, as the mystic being
continued to soothe my brow with his finger-tips. I raised my head in
questioning amaze, and gazed upon him in wonder.
“Thee questions who and what I am,” again came the thoughts, not spoken,
but impressed upon my mind; “I am one appointed to seek out and instruct
souls like thine, who are in need of assistance; thee mayst call me
‘Benja, the Missionary;’ I am drawn to thee, to point out the way of
salvation, and to give thee strength and encouragement; thou hast fought
the first battle and won the victory; press on, and thou shalt win the
goal.”
The thoughts, and indeed the presence of the missionary, sent a thrill
of pleasure through my whole being. Hope spread her rosy pinions above
me, and I became strong, as I thought, for any conflict.
“Thou hast won thy first victory,” repeated the sage, “but still other
trials await thee; self-abnegation and the renunciation of those
appetites and passions that have in a measure swayed the spirit come not
all at once. Reformation is a work of time. Therefore, my son, trust not
too much to thine own strength, but rather let thy soul’s aspirations
reach outward and upward toward heavenly things, bearing with them a
desire for assistance and guidance. Neither be cast down, for
eventually, a noble existence will be thine. Look around thee upon these
laughing meadows and leaping waters. Thou wouldst know in what locality
thou art.
“This is the valley of self-examination. Every soul in passing out from
material life is borne to some spot connected with this place. Certain
temperaments are taken to yonder mountains, upon the lofty heights of
which their souls are left to take a retrospective glance back upon
their past lives, their actions, and motives, and to commune silently
with themselves concerning life and its duties; others to that sheet of
clear water you observe in the distance, into which they are forced to
plunge, that they may be cleansed of the impurities that cling to their
spirits.
“Poetic souls like thine are conveyed to this charming valley, where, in
the contemplation of Nature’s works, they find peace and strength to go
on with the task of self-examination, and the attaining of a desire to
become worthy of better things.”
The ideas flowing into my mind from the sage ceased, and in a moment
more I was again alone. Suddenly the desire seized me to plunge into the
stream babbling at my feet. I did so; the sensation was to me that of
bathing in a stream of warm, perfumed water; it seemed to penetrate
through the pores of my skin, invigorating my system to a wonderful
degree. I remained in the stream for a short time, and upon emerging
from the bath and surveying myself, I found I had undergone a decided
change. My skin had become soft and fair; the florid appearance had
gone, my hair had lost many of its silver threads, and my limbs felt
lithe and elastic.
My garments, too, were renovated, having lost their thread-bare
appearance, and altogether I felt and acted like a new creature. At the
foot of a flowering shrub I perceived a polished staff, which I
appropriated, and with it, as a support, I set off to explore the
surrounding country.
I traveled leisurely; every step of the way revealed new beauties to me,
the splendors of which it is impossible to describe,—shady groves,
wherein the dryads of old might have loved to wander; sunny glades, rich
with their tapestried carpets of flower-gemmed verdure; gushing streams
and natural fountains bursting from the moss-covered rocks. All that
could delight the eye and enchant the senses was spread before me, and I
trudged on, breathing in the beauty around with no thought of, or desire
for, companionship.
By-and-bye I came to an evergreen hedge; it was very long, but after a
time I came to a large opening through which I passed, and found myself
in an extensive garden, the beauty of which I had never seen surpassed.
Parterres of beautiful flowers lay spread out before me, showing the
cultivation of art, and scenting the balmy air with their rich perfume.
Marble basins received the sparkling water falling from numerous silvery
fountains; lofty trees waved their branches high in the air, and cast a
grateful shade; here and there mossy banks invited to repose; birds sang
in the trees and amid blossoming shrubs. Away in the distance I saw the
blue gleam of what appeared to me to be a vast lake, upon the margin of
which I could perceive a number of white-robed forms flitting to and
fro; the atmosphere was redolent with beauty and sweetness, while above
all the golden sun shone in the azure vault of heaven.
Hitherto I had been in the natural country where no effort had been made
to alter or improve Nature’s works; but here were to be seen evidences
of human art and skill, brought in to cultivate and develop the natural
into higher types of beauty. I passed into one of the groves at my left,
and seated myself upon a rustic bench before a long table of stone, upon
which were spread fruits of every description, some of which were
unfamiliar to me. Above the table was suspended an inscription, which
read: “All are welcome; partake and refresh thyself.”
I needed no other bidding; I was hungry and faint; and never did viands
or nectar taste better to the gods than did the fruit, and the sparkling
water which I drew from a fountain close by, to my parched palate.
I rested awhile, and then proceeded on. As I approached the lake, I
suddenly found myself surrounded by a bevy of white-robed creatures, all
young and fair and beautiful to behold. I contrasted my appearance with
theirs, and though I had congratulated myself on my own improvement not
long before, I now appeared dark and dust-worn by the side of these
fresh young souls.
I sought to withdraw, but this they would not permit; for, closing
around me in a circle, they intercepted all means of egress. I stood
with downcast eyes, humbled and ashamed, when one young maiden
approached, and laying her hand upon my shoulder, said in tones, the
flute-like sweetness of which I shall never forget: “Do you not know me?
I am one who was very dear to you; I have lived in this beautiful spot
so long, waiting for you to come; surely you must know me, and will
receive the love I have been keeping for you.”
I raised my eyes and scanned those lovely features. Surely, aye, surely
I recognized them; more beautiful, further developed, and stamped with a
lovelier grace and more charming expression than I had known; yet the
same winning smile, the shining hair, and sparkling eyes of my darling
were before me, in more than radiant splendor.
I could not speak; it was too much! Oh, had I known I should meet my
loved one thus, how I would have prepared myself to become fit to enter
her celestial presence!
Divining my thoughts, the dear one twined her snowy arms around my neck,
and whispering, “I am so happy, oh, so happy to meet you!” laid her
silken head upon my breast, and all unworthy as I knew myself to be, I
clasped her in a tender, loving, soul-full embrace.
Raising her head, my dear one said: “These are my companions, come to
welcome you to the Summer-land. They all know of you, and love you for
what you are worth; they have been with you when you have given forth
the sweet expressions of the soul, and they know what you are capable of
becoming.”
She led me to a mossy seat, and the fair group, ranging themselves
around us, began to sing a song of welcome, the sweetness of which can
never be surpassed.
I do not propose to draw these experiences out to great length,
therefore cannot tell you all that transpired in this lovely spot.
I was welcomed, given a happy home for my abiding place, but left free
to wander wherever I would. Surrounded by loving faces, and ministered
to with tender care, I sank into a state of dreamy bliss, well suited to
my peculiar temperament.
You may think I had passed through the temptations of life, I had
renounced its follies, and repented of its mistakes. But repentance is
not a thing of a day or a month; memory has written her score upon the
tablets of the soul, and if blotted and scarred, it takes time and labor
to efface their unsightliness. I did not know this at the time, but
inactivity is the bane of life, and the soul that is idle cannot go
forward.
It was some time after I had entered this paradise, and been welcomed by
angels, I was seated within the enclosure of a marble pavilion, and
dreamily gazing out upon the sunny slope, when I became conscious of the
presence of the missionary I had met in the valley, who spoke these
words and vanished: “My son, life is earnest; thou hast queried why thou
canst not write the soul-stirring poems of the past. It is because thou
art inactive. Look about thee, and see if there is nothing to do, if not
for thyself, for some other in need. Wouldst thou become noble and
grand? Then work for it. In _this_ world the harvest comes only to him
who plants and tends the seed.”
I was confounded and confused. Stung into activity, I waited for no one,
but hastened from the place and from the wonderful garden. I determined
to do something, to go somewhere; but I knew not what course to pursue.
Soon I felt a desire to return to earth and see what was going on there.
Perhaps I could find something to do, or some inspiration for poesy. Ah,
I knew not that I was still weak, and unable to cope with temptation;
that I was again destined to fall into the mire. But thus it was; yet,
thank God, for the last time! Of that I will inform you in my next
chapter.