SECRETS OF THE SUN AND MOON.
"Have I been long away?" I asked, as I raised myself upright in the
chair where I had been resting.
"I sent you from hence on Thursday morning at noon," replied Heliobas.
"It is now Friday evening, and within a few minutes of midnight. I was
growing alarmed. I have never known anyone stay absent for so long; and
you resisted my authority so powerfully, that I began to fear you would
never come back at all."
"I wish I had not been compelled to do so!" I said regretfully.
He smiled.
"No doubt you do. It is the general complaint. Will you stand up now
and see how you feel?"
I obeyed. There was still a slight sensation about me as of being
cramped for space; but this was passing, and otherwise I felt
singularly strong, bright and vigorous. I stretched out my hands in
unspeakable gratitude to him through whose scientific power I had
gained my recent experience.
"I can never thank you enough!" I said earnestly. "I dare say you know
something of what I have seen on my journey?"
"Something, but not all," he replied. "Of course I know what worlds and
systems you saw, but what was said to you, or what special lessons were
given you for your comfort, I cannot tell." "Then I will describe
everything while it is fresh upon me," I returned. "I feel that I must
do so in order that you may understand how glad I am,--how grateful I
am to you."
I then related the different scenes through which I had passed,
omitting no detail. Heliobas listened with profound interest and
attention. When I had finished, he said:
"Yours has been a most wonderful, I may say almost exceptional,
experience. It proves to me more than ever the omnipotence of WILL.
Most of those who have been placed by my means in the Uplifted or
Electric state of being, have consented to it simply to gratify a sense
of curiosity--few therefore have gone beyond the pure ether, where, as
in a sea, the planets swim. Cellini, for instance, never went farther
than Venus, because in the atmosphere of that planet he met the Spirit
that rules and divides his destiny. Zara--she was daring, and reached
the outer rim of the Great Circle; but even she never caught a glimpse
of the great Central Sphere. YOU, differing from these, started with a
daring aim which you never lost sight of till you had fulfilled it. How
true are those words: 'Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye
shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you'! It is not
possible," and here he sighed, "that amid such wonders you could have
remembered me--it were foolish on my part to expect it."
"I confess I thought nothing of you," I said frankly, "till I was
approaching Earth again; but then my memory prompted me in time, and I
did not forget your request."
"And what did you learn?" he asked anxiously.
"Simply this. Azul said that I might deliver you this message: When
death lies like a gift in your hand, withhold it, and remember her."
"As if I did not always guide myself by her promptings!" exclaimed
Heliobas, with a tender smile.
"You might forget to do so for once," I said.
"Never!" he replied fervently. "It could not be. But I thank you, my
child, for having thought of me--the message you bring shall be
impressed strongly on my mind. Now, before you leave me to-night, I
must say a few necessary words."
He paused, and appeared to consider profoundly for some minutes. At
last he spoke.
"I have selected certain writings for your perusal," he said. "In them
you will find full and clear instructions how to cultivate and educate
the electric force within you, and thus continue the work I have begun.
With these you will also perceive that I have written out the receipt
for the volatile fluid which, if taken in a small quantity every day,
will keep you in health, strength, and intellectual vigour, while it
will preserve your youth and enjoyment of life to a very much longer
extent than that usually experienced by the majority. Understand me
well--this liquid of itself cannot put you into an uplifted state of
existence; you need HUMAN electric force applied strongly to your
system to compass this; and as it is dangerous to try the experiment
too often--dangerous to the body, I mean--it will be as well, as you
have work to do yet in this life, not to attempt it again. But if you
drink the fluid every morning of your life, and at the same time obey
my written manual as to the cultivation of your own inner force, which
is already existent in a large degree, you will attain to certain
advantages over the rest of the people you meet, which will give you
not only physical, but mental power."
He paused a minute or two, and again went on:
"When you have educated your Will to a certain height of electric
command, you can at your pleasure see at any time, and see plainly, the
spirits who inhabit the air; and also those who, descending to long
distances below the Great Circle, come within the range of human
electricity, or the attractive matter contained in the Earth's
atmosphere. You can converse with them, and they with you. You will
also be able, at your desire, to see the parted spirits of dead
persons, so long as they linger within Earth's radius, which they
seldom do, being always anxious to escape from it as soon as possible.
Love may sometimes detain them, or remorse; but even these have to
yield to the superior longings which possess them the instant they are
set free. You will, in your intercourse with your fellow-mortals, be
able to discern their motives quickly and unerringly--you will at once
discover where you are loved and where you are disliked; and not all
the learning and logic of so-called philosophers shall be able to cloud
your instinct. You will have a keener appreciation of good and
beautiful things--a delightful sense of humour, and invariable
cheerfulness; and whatever you do, unless you make some mistake by your
own folly, will carry with it its success. And, what is perhaps a
greater privilege, you will find that all who are brought into very
close contact with you will be beneficially influenced, or the reverse,
exactly as you choose to exert your power. I do not think, after what
you have seen, you will ever desire to exert a malign influence,
knowing that the Creator of your being is all love and forgiveness. At
any rate, the greatest force in the universe, electricity, is
yours--that is, it has begun to form itself in you--and you have
nothing to do but to encourage its growth, just as you would encourage
a taste for music or the fine arts. Now let me give you the writings."
He unlocked a desk, and took from it two small rolls of parchment, one
tied with a gold ribbon, the other secured in a kind of case with a
clasp. This last he held up before my eyes, and said:
"This contains my private instructions to you. Never make a single one
of them public. The world is not ready for wisdom, and the secrets of
science can only be explained to the few. Therefore keep this parchment
safely under lock and key, and never let any eye but your own look upon
its contents."
I promised, and he handed it to me. Then taking the other roll, which
was tied with ribbon, he said,
"Here is written out what I call the Electric Principle of
Christianity. This is for your own study and consideration; still, if
you ever desire to explain my theory to others, I do not forbid you.
But as I told you before, you can never compel belief--the goldfish in
a glass bowl will never understand the existence of the ocean. Be
satisfied if you can guide yourself by the compass you have found, but
do not grieve if you are unable to guide others. You may try, but it
will not be surprising if you fail. Nor will it be your fault. The only
sorrow that might happen to you in these efforts would be in case you
should love someone very dearly, and yet be unable to instil the truth
of what yon know into that particular soul. You would then have to make
a discovery, which is always more or less painful--namely, that your
love was misplaced, inasmuch as the nature you had selected as worthy
of love had no part with yours; and that separation utter and eternal
must therefore occur, if not in this life, then in the future. So I
would say beware of loving, lest you should not love rightly--though I
believe you will soon be able to discern clearly the spirit that is by
fate destined to complete and perfect your own. And now, though I know
you are scarcely fatigued enough to sleep, I will say good-night."
I took the second roll of parchment from his hand, and opening it a
little way, I saw that it was covered with very fine small writing.
Then I said:
"Does Zara know how long I have been absent?"
"Yes," replied Heliobas; "and she, like myself, was surprised and
anxious. I think she went to bed long ago; but you may look into her
room and see if she is awake, before you yourself retire to rest."
As he spoke of Zara his eyes grew melancholy and his brow clouded. An
instinctive sense of fear came upon me.
"Is she not well?" I asked.
"She is perfectly well," he answered. "Why should you imagine her to be
otherwise?"
"Pardon me," I said; "I fancied that you looked unhappy when I
mentioned her."
Heliobas made no answer. He stepped to the window, and throwing back
the curtain, called me to his side.
"Look out yonder." he said in low and earnest tones; "look at the dark
blue veil strewn with stars, through which so lately your daring soul
pierced its flight! See how the small Moon hangs like a lamp in Heaven,
apparently outshining the myriad worlds around her, that are so much
vaster and fairer! How deceptive is the human eye!--nearly as deceptive
as the human reason. Tell me--why did you not visit the Moon, or the
Sun, in your recent wanderings?"
This question caused me some surprise. It was certainly very strange
that I had not thought of doing so. Yet, on pondering the matter in my
mind, I remembered that during my aerial journey suns and moons had
been no more to me than flowers strewn on a meadow. I now regretted
that I had not sought to know something of those two fair luminaries
which light and warm our earth.
Heliobas, after watching my face intently, resumed:
"You cannot guess the reason of your omission? I will tell you. There
is nothing to see in either Sun or Moon. They were both inhabited
worlds once; but the dwellers in the Sun have ages ago lived their
lives and passed to the Central Sphere. The Sun is nothing now but a
burning world, burning rapidly, and surely, away: or rather, IT IS
BEING ABSORBED BACK INTO THE ELECTRIC CIRCLE FROM WHICH IT ORIGINALLY
SPRANG, TO BE THROWN OUT AGAIN IN SOME NEW AND GRANDER FORM. And so
with all worlds, suns and systems, for ever and ever. Hundreds of
thousands of those brief time-breathings called years may pass before
this consummation of the Sun; but its destruction is going on now, or
rather its absorption--and we on our cold small star warm ourselves,
and are glad, in the light of an empty world on fire!"
I listened with awe and interest.
"And the Moon?" I asked eagerly.
"The Moon does not exist. What we see is the reflection or the
electrograph of what she once was. Atmospherical electricity has
imprinted this picture of a long-ago living world upon the heavens,
just as Raphael drew his cartoons for the men of to-day to see."
"But," I exclaimed in surprise, "how about the Moon's influence on the
tides? and what of eclipses?"
"Not the Moon, but the electric photograph of a once living but now
absorbed world, has certainly an influence on the tides. The sea is
impregnated with electricity. Just as the Sun will absorb colours, so
the electricity in the sea is repelled or attracted by the electric
picture of the Moon in Heaven. Because, as a painting is full of
colour, so is that faithful sketch of a vanished sphere, drawn with a
pencil of pure light, full of immense electricity; and to carry the
simile further, just as a painting may be said to be formed of various
dark and light tints, so the electric portrait of the Moon contains
various degrees of electric force--which, coming in contact with the
electricity of the Earth's atmosphere, produces different effects on us
and on the natural scenes amid which we dwell. As for eclipses--if you
slowly pass a round screen between yourself and a blazing fire, you
will only see the edges of the fire. In the same way the electrograph
of the Moon passes at stated intervals between the Earth and the
burning world of the Sun."
"Yet surely," I said, "the telescope has enabled us to see the Moon as
a solid globe--we have discerned mountains and valleys on its surface;
and then it revolves round us regularly--how do you account for these
facts?"
"The telescope," returned Heliobas, "is merely an aid to the human eye;
and, as I told you before, nothing is so easily deceived as our sense
of vision, even when assisted by mechanical appliances. The telescope,
like the stereoscope, simply enables us to see the portrait of the Moon
more clearly; but all the same, the Moon, as a world, does not exist.
Her likeness, taken by electricity, may last some thousands of years,
and as long as it lasts it must revolve around us, because everything
in the universe moves, and moves in a circle. Besides which, this
portrait of the moon being composed of pure electricity, is attracted
and forced to follow the Earth by the compelling influence of the
Earth's own electric power. Therefore, till the picture fades, it must
attend the Earth like the haunting spectre of a dead joy. You can
understand now why we never see what we imagine to be the OTHER SIDE of
the Moon. It simply has NO other side, except space. Space is the
canvas--the Moon is a sketch. How interested we are when a discovery is
made of some rare old painting, of which the subject is a perfectly
beautiful woman! It bears no name--perhaps no date--but the face that
smiles at us is exquisite--the lips yet pout for kisses--the eyes brim
over, with love! And we admire it tenderly and reverently--we mark it
'Portrait of a lady,' and give it an honoured place among our art
collections. With how much more reverence and tenderness ought we to
look up at the 'Portrait of a Fair Lost Sphere,' circling yonder in
that dense ever-moving gallery of wonders where the hurrying throng of
spectators are living and dying worlds!"
I had followed the speaker's words with fascinated attention, but now I
said:
"Dying, Heliobas? There is no death."
"True!" he answered, with hesitating slowness. "But there is what we
call death--transition--and it is always a parting."
"But not for long!" I exclaimed, with all the gladness and eagerness of
my lately instructed soul. "As worlds are absorbed into the Electric
Circle and again thrown out in new and more glorious forms, so are we
absorbed and changed into shapes of perfect beauty, having eyes that
are strong and pure enough to look God in the face. The body
perishes--but what have WE to do with the body--our prison and place of
experience, except to rejoice when we shake off its weight for ever!"
Heliobas smiled gravely.
"You have learned your high lesson well," he said. "You speak with the
assurance and delight of a spirit satisfied. But when I talk of DEATH,
I mean by that word the parting asunder of two souls who love each
other; and though such separation may be brief, still it is always a
separation. For instance, suppose--" he hesitated: "suppose Zara were
to die?"
"Well, you would soon meet her again," I answered. "For though you
might live many years after her, still you would know in yourself that
those years were but minutes in the realms of space--"
"Minutes that decide our destinies," he interrupted with solemnity.
"And there is always this possibility to contemplate--suppose Zara were
to leave me now, how can I be sure that I shall be strong enough to
live out my remainder of life purely enough to deserve to meet her
again? And if not then Zara's death would mean utter and almost
hopeless separation for ever--though perhaps I might begin over again
in some other form, and so reach the goal."
He spoke so musingly and seriously that I was surprised, for I had
thought him impervious to such a folly as the fear of death.
"You are melancholy, Heliobas," I said. "In the first place, Zara is
not going to leave you yet; and secondly, if she did, you know your
strongest efforts would be brought to bear on your career, in order
that no shadow of obstinacy or error might obstruct your path. Why, the
very essence of our belief is in the strength of Will-power. What we
WILL to do, especially if it be any act of spiritual progress, we can
always accomplish."
Heliobas took my hand and pressed it warmly.
"You are so lately come from the high regions," he said, "that it warms
and invigorates me to hear your encouraging words. Pray do not think me
capable of yielding long to the weakness of foreboding. I am, in spite
of my advancement in electric science, nothing but a man, and am apt to
be hampered oftentimes by my mortal trappings. We have prolonged our
conversation further than I intended. I assure you it is better for you
to try to sleep, even though, as I know, you feel so wide awake. Let me
give you a soothing draught; it will have the effect of composing your
physical nerves into steady working order."
He poured something from a small phial into a glass, and handed it to
me. I drank it at once, obediently, and with a smile.
"Good-night, my Master!" I then said. "You need have no fear of your
own successful upward progress. For if there were the slightest chance
of your falling into fatal error, all those human souls you have
benefited would labour and pray for your rescue; and I know now that
prayers reach Heaven, so long as they are unselfish. I, though I am one
of the least of your disciples, out of the deep gratitude of my heart
towards you, will therefore pray unceasingly for you, both here and
hereafter."
He bent his head.
"I thank you!" he said simply. "More deeds are wrought by prayer than
this world dreams of! That is a true saying. God bless you, my child.
Good-night!"
And he opened the door of his study for me to pass out. As I did so, he
laid his hand lightly on my head in a sort of unspoken
benediction--then he closed his door, and I found myself alone in the
great hall. A suspended lamp was burning brightly, and the fountain was
gurgling melodiously to itself in a subdued manner, as if it were
learning a new song for the morning. I sped across the mosaic pavement
with a light eager step, and hurried up the stairs, intent on finding
Zara to tell her how happy I felt, and how satisfied I was with my
wonderful experience. I reached the door of her bedroom--it was ajar. I
softly pushed it farther open, and looked in. A small but exquisitely
modelled statue of an "Eros" ornamented one corner. His uplifted torch
served as a light which glimmered faintly through a rose-coloured
glass, and shed a tender lustre over the room; but especially upon the
bed, ornamented with rich Oriental needlework, where Zara lay fast
asleep. How beautiful she looked! Almost as lovely as any one of the
radiant spirits I had met in my aerial journey! Her rich dark hair was
scattered loosely on the white pillows; her long silky lashes curled
softly on the delicately tinted cheeks; her lips, tenderly red, like
the colour on budding apple-blossoms in early spring, were slightly
parted, showing the glimmer of the small white teeth within; her
night-dress was slightly undone, and half displayed and half disguised
her neck and daintily rounded bosom, on which the electric jewel she
always wore glittered brilliantly as it rose and sank with her regular
and quiet breathing. One fair hand lay outside the coverlet, and the
reflection from the lamp of the "Eros" flickered on a ring which
adorned it, making its central diamond flash like a wandering star.
I looked long and tenderly on this perfect ideal of a "Sleeping
Beauty," and then thought I would draw closer and see if I could kiss
her without awaking her. I advanced a few steps into the room--when
suddenly I was stopped. Within about a yard's distance from the bed a
SOMETHING opposed my approach! I could not move a foot forward--I tried
vigorously, but in vain! I could step backward, and that was all.
Between me and Zara there seemed to be an invisible barrier, strong,
and absolutely impregnable. There was nothing to be seen--nothing but
the softly-shaded room--the ever-smiling "Eros," and the exquisite
reposeful figure of my sleeping friend. Two steps, and I could have
touched her; but those two steps I was forcibly prevented from
making--as forcibly as though a deep ocean had rolled between her and
me. I did not stop long to consider this strange occurrence--I felt
sure it had something to do with her spiritual life and sympathy,
therefore it neither alarmed nor perplexed me. Kissing my hand tenderly
towards my darling, who lay so close to me, and who was yet so
jealously and invisibly guarded during her slumbers, I softly and
reverently withdrew. On reaching my own apartment, I was more than half
inclined to sit up reading and studying the parchments Heliobas had
given me; but on second thoughts I resolved to lock up these precious
manuscripts and go to bed. I did so, and before preparing to sleep I
remembered to kneel down and offer up praise and honour, with a loving
and believing heart, to that Supreme Glory, of which I had been
marvellously permitted to enjoy a brief but transcendent glimpse. And
as I knelt, absorbed and happy, I heard, like a soft echo falling
through the silence of my room, a sound like distant music, through
which these words floated towards me: "A new commandment give I unto
you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you!"