experiments with the power in himself. I have not his permission to
tell the stories he tells me, but they would surprise you. For one
thing, he helped his wife, after his so-called death, to carry out
a joint plan of theirs which had seemed impossible to them before
because of their lack of real faith. It was for the erection of a
certain kind of house.
But do not fancy that most people here are trying to build houses
on earth. Far from it. Most of my fellow-citizens are willing to
work where they are, and to let the earth alone. Of course there are
“dreamers” like me, who are not satisfied with one world, and who like
to have their fingers in both; but they are rather rare, as poets are
rare on earth. To most men the world they happen to be in is sufficient
for the time being.
There is a certain fancy of mine, however, which it will amuse me to
help realise on earth. You may not know that I am doing it, but I
shall know. I would not, “for the world,” as you say, disturb anybody
by even the thought that I am fussing around in affairs which now are
theirs. But if, unseen and unfelt, I can help with the power of my
self-confident imagination, there will be no harm done, and I shall
have demonstrated something.
LETTER XXIX
AN UNEXPECTED WARNING
I SHOULD be very sorry if the reading of these letters of mine should
cause foolish and unthinking people to go spirit-hunting, inviting into
their human sphere the irresponsible and often lying elemental spirits.
Tell them not to do it.
My coming in this way through your hand is quite another matter. I
could not do it if I had not been instructed in the scientific method
of procedure, and I also could not do it if you should constantly
interrupt me by side-thoughts of your own, and by questions relevant
or irrelevant. It is because you are perfectly passive and not even
curious, letting me use your hand as on earth I would have used the
hand of my stenographer, that I am able to write long and connected
sentences.
Most spirit communications, even when genuine, have little value, for
the reason that they are nearly always coloured by the mind of the
person through whom they pass.
You are right in reading nothing on the subject while these messages
are coming, and in thinking nothing about this plane of life where I
am. Thus you avoid preconceived ideas, which would interrupt the flow
of _my_ ideas.
You know, perhaps, that while on earth I investigated spiritualism,
as I investigated many things of an occult nature, looking always for
the truth that was behind them; but I was convinced then, and I am now
more than ever convinced, that, except for the scientific demonstration
that _such things can be_--which, of course, has value as a
demonstration only,--most spirit-hunting is not only a waste of time,
but an absolute detriment to those who engage in it.
This may sound strange coming from a so-called “spirit,” one who is
actually at this time in communication with the world. If that is so,
I cannot help it. If I seem inconsistent, then I seem so; that is all.
But I wish to go on record as discouraging irresponsible mediumship.
If a person sitting for mediumship could be sure that at the other
end of the psychic line there was an entity who had something sincere
and important to say, and who really could use him or her to say it
through, it would be another matter; but this world out here is full of
vagrants, even as the earth. As this world is peopled largely from your
world, it is inevitable that we have the same kind of beings that you
have. They have not changed much in passing through the doors of death.
Would you advise any delicate and sensitive woman to sit down in the
centre of Hyde Park, and invite the passing crowds to come and speak
through her, or touch her, or mingle their magnetism with hers? You
shudder. You would shudder more had you seen some of the things which I
have seen.
Then, too, there is another class of beings here, the kind which we
used to hear the Theosophists call elementals. Now, there has been a
lot of nonsense written about elementals; but take this for a fact:
there are units of energy, units of consciousness, which correspond
pretty closely to what the Theosophists understand by elementals. These
entities are not, as a rule, very highly developed; but as the stage
of earth life is the stage to which they aspire, and as it is the next
inevitable stage in their evolution, they are drawn to it powerfully.
So do not be too sure that the entity which raps on your table or your
cupboard is the spirit of your deceased grandfather. It may be merely a
blind and very _desirous_ entity, an eager consciousness, trying
to use you to hasten its own evolution, trying to get into you or
through you, so as to enjoy the earth and the coarser vibrations of the
earth.
It may not be able to harm you, but, on the other hand, it may do you
a great deal of harm. You had better discourage such attempts to break
through the veil which separates you from them; for the veil is thinner
than you think, and though you cannot see through it, you can feel
through it.
Having said this, my duty in the matter is discharged; and the next
time I come I can tell you a story, maybe, instead of giving you a
lecture.
I really feel like an astral Scheherazade; but I fear you would tire
of me before a thousand-and-one nights were past. A thousand-and-one
nights! Before that time I shall have gone on. No, I do not mean “died”
again into another world beyond; but when I get through telling you
what I desire you to know about my life here, I want to investigate
other stars, if it shall be permitted.
I am like a young man who has lately inherited a fortune and has at
last unlimited means and opportunity for travel. Though he might
stay around home a few months, getting matters in shape and becoming
adjusted to his new freedom of movement, yet the time would come when
he would want to try his wings. I hope that is not a mixed metaphor; if
so, you can edit me. I shall not feel hurt.
LETTER XXX
THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN
IF your eyes could pierce the veil of matter, and you could see what
goes on in the tenuous world around and above that city of Paris, you
would gasp with wonder. I have spent much time in Paris lately. Shall I
tell you some of the strange things I have seen?
In a street on the left bank of the river, called the _rue de
Vaugirard_, there lives a man of middle age and sedentary habits who
is a sort of magician. He is constantly attended and served by one of
the elemental spirits known as sylphs. This sylph he calls Meriline. I
do not know from what language he got the name, for he seems to speak
several, and to know Hebrew. I have seen this Meriline coming and going
to and from his apartment. No, it would not be right for me to tell you
where it is. The man could be identified, though the sylph would elude
the census-taker.
Meriline does not make his bed or cook his broth, for which humble
service he has a char-woman; but the sylph runs errands and discovers
things for him. He is a collector of old books and manuscripts, and
many of his treasures have been located by Meriline in the stalls
which lie along the banks of the Seine, and also in more pretentious
bookshops.
This man is not a devil-worshipper. He is only a harmless enthusiast,
fond of occult things, and striving to pierce the veil which shuts the
elemental world from his eyes. A little less brandy and wine, and he
_might_ be able to see clearly, for he is a true student. But he
is fond of the flesh, and it preys upon the spirit.
One day I encountered Meriline going upon one of his errands, and I
introduced myself by signalling with my hands and calling my name. This
attracted the attention of the sprite, who came and stood beside me.
“Where are you going?” I asked; and she nodded towards the other side
of the river.
The thought came to me that perhaps I ought not to question this
servant of the good magician as to her master’s business, so I
hesitated. She also hesitated; then she said:
“But he is interested in the spirits of men.”
This made the matter simpler, and I asked:
“You do his errands?”
“Yes, always.”
“Why do you do his errands?”
“Because I love to serve him.”
“And why do you love to serve him?”
“Because I belong to him.”
“I thought every soul belonged to itself.”
“But I am not a soul!”
“Then what are you?”
“A sylph.”
“Do you ever expect to be a soul?”
“Oh, yes! He has promised that I shall be, if I serve him faithfully.”
“But how can he make you to be a soul?”
“I don’t know; but he will.”
“How do you know that he will?”
“Because I trust him.”
“What makes you trust him?”
“Because he trusts me.”
“And you always tell him the truth?”
“Always.”
“Who taught you what truth is?”
“He did.”
“How?”
This seemed to puzzle the being before me, and I feared she would go
away; so I detained her by saying, quickly:
“I do not want to worry you with questions which you cannot answer.
Tell me how you first came into his service.”
“Ought I?”
“So you have a conscience?”
“Yes, he taught me to have.”
“But you say that he is interested in the spirits of men.”
“Yes, and I also know good spirits from bad ones.”
“Did he teach you that?”
“No.”
“How did you learn?”
“I always knew.”
“Then you have lived a long time?”
“Oh, yes!”
“And when do you expect to have, or to become a soul?”
“When he comes out here, into this world where we are.”
This staggered me by its daring. Had the good magician been deceiving
his sylph, or did he really believe what he promised?
“What did he say about it?” I asked.
“That if I would serve him now, he would serve me later.”
“And how is he going to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Suppose you ask him?”
“I never ask questions. I answer them.”
“For instance, what sort of questions?”
“I tell him where such and such a person is, and what he or she is
doing.”
“Can you tell him what these people are thinking?”
“Not often--or not always. Sometimes I can.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the feel of them. If I am warm in their presence, I know they are
friendly to him; if I am cold, I know they are his enemies. If I feel
nothing at all, then I know that they are not thinking of him, or are
indifferent.”
“And your errand this evening?”
“To see a lady.”
“And you are not jealous?”
“What is ‘jealous’?”
“You are not displeased that he should interest himself in ladies?”
“Why should I be?”
This was a question I could not answer, not knowing the nature of
sylphs. She surprised me a little, for I had supposed that all female
things were jealous. But, fearing again that she might leave me, I
hurried to question her further.
“How did you make his acquaintance?” I asked.
“He called me.”
“How?”
“By the incantation.”
“What incantation?”
“The call of the sylphs.”
“Oh,” I said, “he called the sylphs and you came!”
“Yes, of course. I liked him for his kindness, and I made him see me.”
“How did you manage it?”
“I dazzled his eyes until he closed them, and then he could see me.”
“Can he always see you now?”
“No, but he knows I am there.”
“He can see you sometimes still?”
“Yes, often.”
“And when he saw you first?”
“He was delighted, and called me loving names, and made me promises.”
“The promise of a soul--that first time?”
“Yes.”
“Then you had wanted to have a soul?”
“Oh, yes!”
“But why?”
“Many of us want to be men. We love men--that is, most of us do.”
“Why do you love men?”
“It is our nature.”
“But not the nature of all of you?”
“There are malignant spirits of the air.”
“And what will you do when you have a soul?”
“I will take a body, and live on earth.”
“And leave your friend whom you now serve?”
“Oh, no! It is to be with him that I specially want a body.”
“Then will he come back to the earth with you?”
“He says so.”
This again staggered me. I was becoming interested in this magician; he
had a daring imagination.
Could a spirit of the air develop into a human soul? I asked myself.
Was the man self-deceived? Or, again, was he deceiving his lovely
messenger?
I thought a little too long this time, for when I turned again to speak
to my strange companion, she had left me. I tried to follow, but could
not find her; and if she returned soon, it must have been by some other
road. Though I looked in all directions, she was invisible to me.
Now, the question will arise in your mind: In what language did I talk
with this aerial servant of a French magician? I seemed to speak in
my own tongue, and she seemed to respond in the same. How is that? I
cannot say, unless we really used the subtle language of thought itself.
You may often, on meeting with a person whose language you do not
speak, feel an interchange of ideas, by the look of the eyes, by the
expression of the face, by gestures. Now imagine that, intensified a
hundredfold. Might it not extend to the simple questions and answers
which I exchanged with the sylph? I do not say that it would, but I
think it might; for, as I said before, I seemed to speak and she seemed
to reply in my own language.
What strange experiences one has out here! I rather dread to go back
into the world, where it will be so dull for me for a long time. Can I
exchange this freedom and vivid life for a long period of somnolence,
afterwards to suck a bottle and learn the multiplication table and
Greek and Latin verbs? I suppose I must--but not yet.
Good night.
LETTER XXXI
A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS
BY the vividness with which you feel my presence at times, you can
judge of the intensity of the life that I am living. I am no pallid
spook, dripping with grave-dew. I am real, and quite as wholesome--or
so it seems to me--as when I walked the earth in a more or less
unhealthy body. The ghastly spectres, when they return, do not talk as
I talk. Ask those who have seen and heard them.
It is well that you have kept yourself comparatively free of
communications “from the other world.”
It would have been amazing had you been afraid of me. But there are
those who would be, if they should sense my presence as you sense it.
One night I knocked at the door of a friend’s chamber, half expecting
a welcome. He jumped out of bed in alarm, then jumped back again, and
pulled the blanket over his head. He was really afraid that it might be
I! So, as I did not wish to be responsible for a case of heart failure,
or for a shock of hair which, like that in the old song, “turned white
in a single night,” I went quietly away. Doubtless he persuaded himself
next day that there were mice in the wainscoting.
Had you been afraid of me, though, I should have been ashamed of you;
for you know better. Most persons do not.
It is a real pleasure for me to come back and talk with you sometimes.
“There are no friends like the old friends,” and the society of sylphs
and spirits would never quite satisfy me if all those whom I had known
and loved should turn their backs on me.
Speaking of sylphs, I met the Teacher last night, and asked him if that
French magician I told you about could really make good his promise
to his aerial companion, and help her to acquire the kind of soul
essential to incarnation on earth as a woman. His answer was, “No.”
Of course I asked him why, and he answered that the elemental
creatures, or units of force inhabiting the elements, as we use that
term, could not, during this life cycle, step out of their element
into the human.
“Can they ever do so?” I asked.
“I do not know,” he replied; “but I believe that all the less evolved
units around the earth are working in the direction of man; that the
human is a stage of development which they will all reach some day, but
not in this life cycle.”
I asked the Teacher if he knew the magician in question, and he
answered that he had known him for a thousand years, that long ago, in
a former life, the Paris magician had placed his feet upon the path
which leads to power; but that he had been side-tracked by the desire
for selfish pleasures, and that he might wander a long time before he
found his way back to real and philosophical truth.
“Is he to be blamed or pitied?” I asked.
“Pity cuts no figure in the problem,” the Teacher replied. “A man seeks
what he desires.”
After the Teacher went away I began asking myself questions. What was
_I_ seeking, and what did I desire? The answer came quickly:
“Knowledge.” A year ago I might have answered “Power,” but knowledge is
the forerunner of power. If I get true knowledge, I shall have power
enough.
It is because I want to give to you, and possibly to others, a few
scraps of knowledge which might be inaccessible to you by any other
means, that I am coming back, and coming back, time after time, to talk
with you.
The greatest bit of knowledge that I have to offer you is this: that by
the exercise of will a man can retain his objective consciousness after
death. Many persons out here sink into a sort of subjective bliss which
makes them indifferent as to what is going on upon the earth or in the
heavens. I could do so myself, easily.
As I believe I have said before, while man on earth has both subjective
and objective consciousness, but functions mostly in the objective,
out here he has still subjective and objective consciousness, but the
tendency is towards the subjective.
At almost any time, on composing yourself and looking in, you can fall
into a state of subjective bliss which is similar to that enjoyed by
souls on this side of the dividing line called death. In fact, it is by
such subconscious experience that man has learned nearly all he knows
regarding the etheric world. When the storms and passions of the body
are stilled, man can catch a glimpse of his own interior life, and
that interior life is the life of this fourth-dimensional plane. Please
do not accuse me of contradicting myself or of being obscure; I have
said that the objective consciousness is as possible with us as the
subjective is with you, but that the tendency is merely the other way.
You may remember a pair of lovers about whom I wrote you a few weeks
ago. He had been out here some time, and had waited for her, and helped
her over the uncertain marsh-lands which lie between the two states of
existence.
I saw these lovers again the other day, but they were not at all
excited by my appearance. On the contrary, I fancy that I put them out
somewhat by awakening them, by calling them back from the state of
subjective bliss into which they have sunk since being together at last.
While he waited for her all those years, he kept himself awake by
expectation; while still on earth she was always thinking of him out
here, and so the polarity was sustained. Now they have each other; they
are in “the little home” which he built for her with so much pleasure
out of the tenuous materials of this tenuous world; they see each
other’s faces whether they look out or in; they are content; they
have nothing more to attain (or so they tell each other), and they
consequently sink back into the arms of subjective bliss.
Now this state of bliss, of rumination, they have a right to enjoy. No
one can take it from them. They have earned it by activity in the world
and elsewhere, it is theirs by rhythmic justice. They will enjoy it,
I fancy, for a long time, living over the past experiences which they
have had together and apart. Then some day one or the other of them
will become surfeited with too much sweetness; the muscles of his (or
her) soul will stretch for want of exercise; he (or she) will give a
spiritual yawn, and by the law of reaction, pass out--not to return.
Where will he (or she) go, you ask? Why, back to the earth, of course!
Let us imagine him (or her) awaking from that subjective state of bliss
which is known to them as attainment, and going for a short promenade
in blessed and wholesome solitude. Then, with a sort of morning
alertness in the heart and the eye, he (or she) draws near to a pair
of earthly lovers. Suddenly the call of matter, the eager, terrible
call of blood and warmth, of activity raised to the _n_th power,
catches the half-awakened soul on the ethereal side of matter, and----
He has again entered the world of material formation. He is sunk and
hidden in the flesh of earth. He awaits birth. He will come out with
great force, by reason of his former rest. He might even become a
“captain of industry,” if he is a strong unit. But I began by saying
“he or she.” Let me change the figure. The man would be almost certain
to awake first, by reason of his positive polarity.
Now, in drawing this imaginary picture of my lovers, I am not making
a dogma of the way in which all souls return to earth. I am merely
guessing how these two will return (for she would probably follow him
speedily when she awoke and found herself alone). And the reason why
I fancy they will return in that way is because they are indulging
themselves in too much subjective bliss.
When will they go back? I cannot say. Perhaps next year, perhaps in a
hundred years. Not knowing the numerical value of their unit of force,
I cannot guess how much subjective bliss they can endure without a
violent reaction.
I am sure that you are wondering if some day I shall myself sink into
that state of bliss which I have described. Perhaps. I should enjoy
it--but not for long, and not yet. However, I have no sweetheart out
here to enjoy it with me.
LETTER XXXII
A CHANGE OF FOCUS
WITH the guidance of the Teacher, during the last few weeks I have been
going to and fro in the earth and walking up and down in it. You smile
at the veiled reference. But have not certain friends of yours actually
feared me, as if I were the devil of the Book of Job?
Now, to be serious, I have been visiting those lands and cities
where in former lives I lived and worked among men. One of the many
advantages of travel is that it helps a man to remember his former
existences. There is certainly a magic in places.
I have been in Egypt, in India, in Persia, in Spain, in Italy; I have
been in Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Greece, Turkey, and many other
lands. The Dardanelles were not closed to me recently, when by reason
of the war you could not have passed through. There are advantages
to almost every condition, even my present one; for the law of
compensation holds good.
In certain lives of the past I was a wide traveller.
Now you may wonder how it is that I pass easily from this world to
yours, seeing into both. But you must remember that your world and mine
occupy about the same space; that the plane of the earth’s surface is
one of the lower and more material planes of our world, using the word
“plane” as you would use the word “layer.”
As I have said before, there are also places accessible to us which lie
at some distance above the earth’s surface. “Mansions in the skies” are
more than figurative.
I have only slightly to change my focus at any time, to find myself
in your world. That I cannot be seen there with the naked eye is no
proof that I am not there. Without that change of focus, which is done
through an action of will and by knowing the method, I might even be
occupying the same space as something in your world and not know it.
Note well this point, for it is only half of something which I have
to say. The other half is, that you also may at any time be--so far
as space is concerned--in the immediate neighbourhood of interesting
things in our world, and not know that you are there.
But if you focus to this world you are more or less conscious of
it. So when I, knowing how, focus to your world, I am there in
consciousness and can enjoy the varied sights of many cities, the
changing aspects of many lands.
When I first came out I could not see my way about the earth very well,
but now I can see better.
No, I am not going to give you a formula to give to other people by
which you or they could change focus at will and enter into relation
with this world, because such knowledge at the present stage of human
progress would do more harm than good. I merely state the fact, and
leave the application for those who have the curiosity and the ability
to demonstrate it.
My object in writing these letters is primarily to convince a few
persons--to strengthen their certainty in the fact of immortality, or
the survival of the soul after the bodily change which is called death.
Many think they believe who are not certain whether they believe or
not. If I can make my presence as a living and vital entity felt in
these letters, it will have the effect of strengthening the belief of
certain persons in the doctrine of immortality.
This is a materialistic age. A large percentage of men and women have
no real interest in the life beyond the grave. But they will all have
to come out here sooner or later, and perhaps a few will find the
change easier, the journey less formidable, by reason of what I shall
have taught them. Is it not worth while? Is it not worth a little
effort on your part as well as on mine?