3. THE COMING LIFE
Now, leaving this large and possibly contentious
subject of the modifications which such new revelations
must produce in Christianity, let us try to follow what
occurs to man after death. The evidence on this point
is fairly full and consistent. Messages from the dead
have been received in many lands at various times,
mixed up with a good deal about this world, which we
could verify. When messages come thus, it is only
fair, I think, to suppose that if what we can test is
true, then what we cannot test is true also. When in
addition we find a very great uniformity in the
messages and an agreement as to details which are not
at all in accordance with any pre-existing scheme of
thought, then I think the presumption of truth is very
strong. It is difficult to think that some fifteen or
twenty messages from
various sources of which I
have personal notes, all agree, and yet are all wrong,
nor is it easy to suppose that spirits can tell the
truth about our world but untruth about their own.
I received lately, in the same week, two accounts
of life in the next world, one received through the
hand of the near relative of a high dignitary of the
Church, while the other came through the wife of a
working mechanician in Scotland. Neither could have
been aware of the existence of the other, and yet the
two accounts are so alike as to be practically the
same.
The message upon these points seems to me to be
infinitely reassuring, whether we regard our own fate
or that of our friends. The departed all agree that
passing is usually both easy and painless, and followed
by an enormous reaction of peace and ease. The
individual finds himself in a spirit body, which is the
exact counterpart of his old one, save that all
disease, weakness, or deformity has passed from it.
This body is standing or floating beside the old body,
and conscious
both of it and of the surrounding
people. At this moment the dead man is nearer to
matter than he will ever be again, and hence it is that
at that moment the greater part of those cases occur
where, his thoughts having turned to someone in the
distance, the spirit body went with the thoughts and
was manifest to the person. Out of some 250 cases
carefully examined by Mr. Gurney, 134 of such
apparitions were actually at this moment of
dissolution, when one could imagine that the new spirit
body was possibly so far material as to be more visible
to a sympathetic human eye than it would later become.
These cases, however, are very rare in comparison
with the total number of deaths. In most cases I
imagine that the dead man is too preoccupied with his
own amazing experience to have much thought for others.
He soon finds, to his surprise, that though he
endeavours to communicate with those whom he sees, his
ethereal voice and his ethereal touch are equally
unable to make any impression upon those human organs
which are only attuned to coarser stimuli. It is a
fair subject for speculation,
whether a fuller
knowledge of those light rays which we know to exist on
either side of the spectrum, or of those sounds which
we can prove by the vibrations of a diaphragm to exist,
although they are too high for mortal ear, may not
bring us some further psychical knowledge. Setting
that aside, however, let us follow the fortunes of the
departing spirit. He is presently aware that there are
others in the room besides those who were there in
life, and among these others, who seem to him as
substantial as the living, there appear familiar faces,
and he finds his hand grasped or his lips kissed by
those whom he had loved and lost. Then in their
company, and with the help and guidance of some more
radiant being who has stood by and waited for the
newcomer, he drifts to his own surprise through all
solid obstacles and out upon his new life.
This is a definite statement, and this is the story
told by one after the other with a consistency which
impels belief. It is already very different from any
old theology. The Spirit is not a glorified angel or
goblin damned, but it is simply the person himself,
containing all his strength and weakness, his
wisdom and his folly, exactly as he has retained his
personal appearance. We can well believe that the most
frivolous and foolish would be awed into decency by so
tremendous an experience, but impressions soon become
blunted, the old nature may soon reassert itself in new
surroundings, and the frivolous still survive, as our
seance rooms can testify.
And now, before entering upon his new life, the new
Spirit has a period of sleep which varies in its
length, sometimes hardly existing at all, at others
extending for weeks or months. Raymond said that his
lasted for six days. That was the period also in a
case of which I had some personal evidence. Mr. Myers,
on the other hand, said that he had a very prolonged
period of unconsciousness. I could imagine that the
length is regulated by the amount of trouble or mental
preoccupation of this life, the longer rest giving the
better means of wiping this out. Probably the little
child would need no such interval at all. This, of
course, is pure speculation, but there is a
considerable consensus
of opinion as to the
existence of a period of oblivion after the first
impression of the new life and before entering upon its
duties.
Having wakened from this sleep, the spirit is weak,
as the child is weak after earth birth. Soon, however,
strength returns and the new life begins. This leads
us to the consideration of heaven and hell. Hell, I
may say, drops out altogether, as it has long dropped
out of the thoughts of every reasonable man. This
odious conception, so blasphemous in its view of the
Creator, arose from the exaggerations of Oriental
phrases, and may perhaps have been of service in a
coarse age where men were frightened by fires, as wild
beasts are seared by the travellers. Hell as a
permanent place does not exist. But the idea of
punishment, of purifying chastisement, in fact of
Purgatory, is justified by the reports from the other
side. Without such punishment there could be no
justice in the Universe, for how impossible it would be
to imagine that the fate of a Rasputin is the same as
that of a Father Damien. The punishment is very
certain and very serious, though in its less severe
forms it
only consists in the fact that the grosser
souls are in lower spheres with a knowledge that their
own deeds have placed them there, but also with the
hope that expiation and the help of those above them
will educate them and bring them level with the others.
In this saving process the higher spirits find part of
their employment. Miss Julia Ames in her beautiful
posthumous book, says in memorable words: "The
greatest joy of Heaven is emptying Hell."
Setting aside those probationary spheres, which
should perhaps rather be looked upon as a hospital for
weakly souls than as a penal community, the reports
from the other world are all agreed as to the pleasant
conditions of life in the beyond. They agree that like
goes to like, that all who love or who have interests
in common are united, that life is full of interest and
of occupation, and that they would by no means desire
to return. All of this is surely tidings of great joy,
and I repeat that it is not a vague faith or hope, but
that it is supported by all the laws of evidence which
agree that where many independent witnesses give a
similar account,
that account has a claim to be
considered a true one. If it were an account of
glorified souls purged instantly from all human
weakness and of a constant ecstasy of adoration round
the throne of the all powerful, it might well be
suspected as being the mere reflection of that popular
theology which all the mediums had equally received in
their youth. It is, however, very different to any
preexisting system. It is also supported, as I have
already pointed out, not merely by the consistency of
the accounts, but by the fact that the accounts are the
ultimate product of a long series of phenomena, all of
which have been attested as true by those who have
carefully examined them.
In connection with the general subject of life
after death, people may say we have got this knowledge
already through faith. But faith, however beautiful in
the individual, has always in collective bodies been a
very two-edged quality. All would be well if every
faith were alike and the intuitions of the human race
were constant. We know that it is not so. Faith means
to say that you entirely believe a thing which you
cannot
prove. One man says: "My faith is
this." Another says: "My faith is
that."
Neither can prove it, so they wrangle for ever, either
mentally or in the old days physically. If one is
stronger than the other, he is inclined to persecute
him just to twist him round to the true faith. Because
Philip the Second's faith was strong and clear he,
quite logically, killed a hundred thousand Lowlanders
in the hope that their fellow countrymen would be
turned to the all-important truth. Now, if it were
recognised that it is by no means virtuous to claim
what you could not prove, we should then be driven to
observe facts, to reason from them, and perhaps reach
common agreement. That is why this psychical movement
appears so valuable. Its feet are on something more
solid than texts or traditions or intuitions. It is
religion from the double point of view of both worlds
up to date, instead of the ancient traditions of one
world.
We cannot look upon this coming world as a tidy
Dutch garden of a place which is so exact that it can
easily be described. It is probable that those
messengers who come
back to us are all, more or
less, in one state of development and represent the
same wave of life as it recedes from our shores.
Communications usually come from those who have not
long passed over, and tend to grow fainter, as one
would expect. It is instructive in this respect to
notice that Christ's reappearances to his disciples or
to Paul, are said to have been within a very few years
of his death, and that there is no claim among the
early Christians to have seen him later. The cases of
spirits who give good proof of authenticity and yet
have passed some time are not common. There is, in Mr.
Dawson Roger's life, a very good case of a spirit who
called himself Manton, and claimed to have been born at
Lawrence Lydiard and buried at Stoke Newington in 1677.
It was clearly shown afterwards that there was such a
man, and that he was Oliver Cromwell's chaplain. So
far as my own reading goes, this is the oldest spirit
who is on record as returning, and generally they are
quite recent. Hence, one gets all one's views from the
one generation, as it were, and we cannot take them as
final, but
only as partial. How spirits may see
things in a different light as they progress in the
other world is shown by Miss Julia Ames, who was deeply
impressed at first by the necessity of forming a bureau
of communication, but admitted, after fifteen years,
that not one spirit in a million among the main body
upon the further side ever wanted to communicate with
us at all since their own loved ones had come over.
She had been misled by the fact that when she first
passed over everyone she met was newly arrived like
herself.
Thus the account we give may be partial, but still
such as it is it is very consistent and of
extraordinary interest, since it refers to our own
destiny and that of those we love. All agree that life
beyond is for a limited period, after which they pass
on to yet other phases, but apparently there is more
communication between these phases than there is
between us and Spiritland. The lower cannot ascend,
but the higher can descend at will. The life has a
close analogy to that of this world at it its best. It
is pre-eminently a life of the mind, as this is of the
body. Preoccupations
of food, money, lust, pain,
etc., are of the body and are gone. Music, the Arts,
intellectual and spiritual knowledge, and progress have
increased. The people are clothed, as one would
expect, since there is no reason why modesty should
disappear with our new forms. These new forms are the
absolute reproduction of the old ones at their best,
the young growing up and the old reverting until all
come to the normal. People live in communities, as one
would expect if like attracts like, and the male spirit
still finds his true mate though there is no sexuality
in the grosser sense and no childbirth. Since
connections still endure, and those in the same state
of development keep abreast, one would expect that
nations are still roughly divided from each other,
though language is no longer a bar, since thought has
become a medium of conversation. How close is the
connection between kindred souls over there is shown by
the way in which Myers, Gurney and Roden Noel, all
friends and co-workers on earth, sent messages together
through Mrs. Holland, who knew none of them, each
message being characteristic
to those who knew the
men in life — or the way in which Professor Verrall and
Professor Butcher, both famous Greek scholars,
collaborated to produce the Greek problem which has
been analysed by Mr. Gerald Balfour in
The Ear of
Dionysius, with the result that that excellent
authority testified that the effect
could have been
attained by no other entities, save only Verrall and
Butcher. It may be remarked in passing that these and
other examples show clearly either that the spirits
have the use of an excellent reference library or else
that they have memories which produce something like
omniscience. No human memory could possibly carry all
the exact quotations which occur in such communications
as
The Ear of Dionysius.
These, roughly speaking, are the lines of the life
beyond in its simplest expression, for it is not all
simple, and we catch dim glimpses of endless circles
below descending into gloom and endless circles above,
ascending into glory, all improving, all purposeful,
all intensely alive. All are agreed that no religion
upon earth has any advantage over
another, but that
character and refinement are everything. At the same
time, all are also in agreement that all religions
which inculcate prayer, and an upward glance rather
than eyes for ever on the level, are good. In this
sense, and in no other — as a help to spiritual life —
every form may have a purpose for somebody. If to
twirl a brass cylinder forces the Thibetan to admit
that there is something higher than his mountains, and
more precious than his yaks, then to that extent it is
good. We must not be censorious in such matters.
There is one point which may be mentioned here
which is at first startling and yet must commend itself
to our reason when we reflect upon it. This is the
constant assertion from the other side that the newly
passed do not know that they are dead, and that it is a
long time, sometimes a very long time, before they can
be made to understand it. All of them agree that this
state of bewilderment is harmful and retarding to the
spirit, and that some knowledge of the actual truth
upon this side is the only way to make sure of not
being dazed upon the other.
Finding conditions
entirely different from anything for which either
scientific or religious teaching had prepared them, it
is no wonder that they look upon their new sensations
as some strange dream, and the more rigidly orthodox
have been their views, the more impossible do they find
it to accept these new surroundings with all that they
imply. For this reason, as well as for many others,
this new revelation is a very needful thing for
mankind. A smaller point of practical importance is
that the aged should realise that it is still worth
while to improve their minds, for though they have no
time to use their fresh knowledge in this world it will
remain as part of their mental outfit in the next.
As to the smaller details of this life beyond, it
is better perhaps not to treat them, for the very good
reason that they are small details. We will learn them
all soon for ourselves, and it is only vain curiosity
which leads us to ask for them now. One thing is
clear: there are higher intelligences over yonder to
whom synthetic chemistry, which not only makes the
substance but moulds the
form, is a matter of
absolute ease. We see them at work in the coarser
media, perceptible to our material senses, in the
seance room. If they can build up simulacra in the
seance room, how much may we expect them to do when
they are working upon ethereal objects in that ether
which is their own medium. It may be said generally
that they can make something which is analogous to
anything which exists upon earth. How they do it may
well be a matter of guess and speculation among the
less advanced spirits, as the phenomena of modern
science are a matter of guess and speculation to us.
If one of us were suddenly called up by the denizen of
some sub-human world, and were asked to explain exactly
what gravity is, or what magnetism is, how helpless we
should be! We may put ourselves in the position, then,
of a young engineer soldier like Raymond Lodge, who
tries to give some theory of matter in the beyond — a
theory which is very likely contradicted by some other
spirit who is also guessing at things above him. He
may be right, or he may be wrong, but be is doing his
best to say what he thinks, as
we should do in
similar case. He believes that his transcendental
chemists can make anything, and that even such
unspiritual matter as alcohol or tobacco could come
within their powers and could still be craved for by
unregenerate spirits. This has tickled the critics to
such an extent that one would really think to read the
comments that it was the only statement in a book which
contains 400 closely-printed pages. Raymond may be
right or wrong, but the only thing which the incident
proves to me is the unflinching courage and honesty of
the man who chronicled it, knowing well the handle that
he was giving to his enemies.
There are many who protest that this world which is
described to us is too material for their liking. It
is not as they would desire it. Well, there are many
things in this world which seem different from what we
desire, but they exist none the less. But when we come
to examine this charge of materialism and try to
construct some sort of system which would satisfy the
idealists, it becomes a very difficult task. Are we to
be mere wisps of gaseous happiness floating
about
in the air? That seems to be the idea. But if there
is no body like our own, and if there is no character
like our own, then say what you will,
we have
become extinct. What is it to a mother if some
impersonal glorified entity is shown to her? She will
say, "that is not the son I lost — I want his yellow
hair, his quick smile, his little moods that I know so
well." That is what she wants; that, I believe, is
what she will have; but she will not have them by any
system which cuts us away from all that reminds us of
matter and takes us to a vague region of floating
emotions.
There is an opposite school of critics which rather
finds the difficulty in picturing a life which has keen
perceptions, robust emotions, and a solid surrounding
all constructed in so diaphanous a material. Let us
remember that everything depends upon its comparison
with the things around it.
If we could conceive of a world a thousand times
denser, heavier and duller than this world, we can
clearly see that to its inmates it would seem much the
same as this, since their strength and texture would be
in pro
portion. If, however, these inmates came in
contact with us, they would look upon us as
extraordinarily airy beings living in a strange, light,
spiritual atmosphere. They would not remember that we
also, since our beings and our surroundings are in
harmony and in proportion to each other, feel and act
exactly as they do.
We have now to consider the case of yet another
stratum of life, which is as much above us as the
leaden community would be below us. To us also it
seems as if these people, these spirits, as we call
them, live the lives of vapour and of shadows. We do
not recollect that there also everything is in
proportion and in harmony so that the spirit scene or
the spirit dwelling, which might seem a mere dream
thing to us, is as actual to the spirit as are our own
scenes or our own dwellings, and that the spirit body
is as real and tangible to another spirit as ours to
our friends.
