War Letters from the Living Dead Man (2 page)

Other and superior beings work on all three planes—physical, astral, and mental, and in still higher worlds beyond our cognizance. But for the beneficent activity of some of these, mankind would destroy itself or be destroyed. “X” says that the feelings of hatred and the sufferings engendered by the Great War have made the astral world at this time a very unpleasant place of sojourn. The purgatory of the Roman Catholics is the same thing as the place of postmortem trial described by “X”. The Church has great knowledge. Good and evil may be called opposite and complementary forces, one working in harmony with the Law of the Universe (otherwise called the will of God), the other working disharmoniously with the Law. Some readers may be shocked by what “X” says of black magic. He is not writing to shock them, but to protect and instruct them. Superstition has been called the dark side of religion; but superstition is to be understood, not dismissed with the lifting of superior eyebrows. All things are to be understood. The great psychologists, scientists, do not now consider these subjects beneath their investigation. Refer to Professor William James, to Sir Oliver Lodge, to Dr. Baraduc. The names of recognized scientists who are now investigating occult phenomena would fill a small directory. When I admit that I am seeking to chart the unseen world, I am modestly enrolling myself in good company.

“X” speaks of the “dark-veiled one” who inspired Nietzsche in the misleading of young Germany. Perhaps behind every powerful man or woman whose work has told in the world there has been an invisible one, either light or dark-veiled. The question is not without interest, both practical and theoretical. Inspiration, like magic, may be either black or white. The “voices” of Jeanne d’Arc would in our day be called clairaudient phenomena. History declares that they rendered her more, not less, efficient as the savior of France. Martin Luther threw his inkpot at “the devil;” but the Reformation was no less ably engineered because Luther had visions. Saul of Tarsus also had a vision, if we may credit the reporters. “X” speaks of his own Teacher, a “Master.” When I compare the California Judge whom I knew with most of the men and women with whom I prattle about commonplaces, I do not find it difficult to admit the possibility that man may progress even further than “X,” given the resolution so to do. If “X” became what he was in a little less than seventy years, there is hope for us who look forward to eternity.

The second major idea of these
War Letters
seems to be the brotherhood of man. The world has progressed thus far through a series of well-marked periods, and by means of a series of predominant races which stamped their time with their own peculiar color. “X” says that a new race, the Sixth Race so-called, is about to arise now in the United States.

If America would accept this idea as a working hypothesis—not another
Deutschland über Alles
, but say “America for (not over) all”—she might build a peace machine as Germany has built a war machine. If she should go about it with the same thoroughness, postulating the ideal brotherhood as Germany has postulated world-dominion, she might make a demonstration in the next generation. In the mixture of races in America she has all the materials for any kind of spiritual experiment. Asia and Europe would look on with interest. England, Germany, and France, even Japan who is spiritual underneath and material only on the surface, perhaps Russia above all, would respect such an avowed purpose. It may be that the world will have suffered enough by the end of this war to be ready to welcome universal brotherhood.

Already there are movements in America which would gladly fall into line. “X” speaks of the Woodcraft movement, a loosely organized body of perhaps a hundred thousand men and boys and a few women, who in their playtime have gone back to Nature and the campfire for that fraternity which cities do not give. “X” says that he has another service to perform in the future. I do not know what that service is, nor whether I have any part in it; but if he should one day declare to me that it was in connection with the Woodcraft purpose, I should not be surprised. But after living for months with this war book, I cannot yet see it in perspective nor gauge its value. I give it to the world because it seems to belong to the world, and because among the thousand letters which I have received from the readers of
Letters From a Living Dead Man
, so many have asked for further writings of “X.” The first book is now being translated into four European languages, and other translations have been offered.

I want to thank all those persons in many countries who have written me so kindly about the book. It was more for them than for myself that I embraced the offered opportunity to hear what “X” had to say about the Great War. To receive genuine communications from the other world (assuming as I must that such communication is possible) involves sacrifice on the part of the amanuensis, even in the protected quiet of a country home. To do it in a great rushing city like New York, amidst the distractions of a complex social life, and during a war like this by whose horrors the “sensitive” is especially buffeted, and in a clashing pro-German pro-Allies environment, has been an education in self-control.

But the war cannot last forever, and some day joy will come back to the world.

New York, Sept., 1915. Elsa Barker

Letter 1

The Return of “X”

In a far away star I heard the command: “Go back to the earth, and learn the mysteries of love and hate.” I did not know to what I was going, but went as commanded. As I neared the earth an army of angry beings sought to bar my way. “What are you doing here?” they cried. “This is our field, and we brook no interference.” I called to the Teacher, and he stood beside me. Even he was grave at the power of the forces before us. “It has come,” the Teacher said; “it has come suddenly, after a long preparation.”

Wrath is a cosmic force, and hate is a cosmic force, and love is a cosmic force, and fear is a cosmic force. Did you think that love was a pretty sentiment? Did you think that hate was a mere annoyance? I have seen the sources of wrath and hate and love and fear, and that my experience may be of use in helping men to understand the forces working in and behind the race, I have made the effort to write for the world again. This war is more than a war of men; it is more than a war of angels. Its roots are in Necessity itself. A new race has to be born, and races like men are born in the pain and the blood of their predecessors. But as ‘the curse of Eve” came through her listening to the envious serpent of evil, so this curse has come upon the world through mankind’s listening to the suggestions of envy and hate from the forces of evil within and around the world. I have seen those forces in forms, I have faced them and wrestled with them. I am strong because I have struggled.

I came back to the world nearly five weeks before war was declared on earth, but war was already declared in the spaces above the earth. As the nations had long been getting ready their forces, so the entities outside were ready and in arms. The demons who met me—for they were demons—had triumph in their eyes. A beginning had been made, a seed of anger sown in the heart of Austria. And the seed was watered in the ground by those who felt that their harvest was approaching. You must understand that evil is coexistent with good so long as the egos of men evolve. The forces of good and the forces of evil are complementary. They are in actual forms, they have acquired egos; their concentration on their work would shame the greatest geniuses among men. But they too are consciously or unconsciously servants of that Cosmic Will whose designs we call the will of God.

I have learned much since the days when I entertained you with stories of the newly dead who had died serenely in their beds and had gone out into the astral world as into an adjoining room. A million souls have gone out recently, shocked, torn, mangled, buffeted by their own hate and the hate of those who sought to destroy them.

Pity those who have died even tranquilly during the last eight months. They have passed through a region of torment—those who have passed through. Many have remained below, spun round and round in the whirlpool with those who died by war. Had I not a great purpose, and the conviction of a great mission, in thus revealing the secrets of the other world at this time, I should not harrow your feelings by a recital of what I have seen and sometimes taken part in since my return from that journey among the stars. Comfort yourself—if you need comfort—by my assurance that the race is passing through a rite of initiation. Those who have died in the service of an unselfish enthusiasm will in time rebody themselves and reap on the earth the fruits of their service. But not all who have died have been filled with this enthusiasm. Many have hated for hate’s own sake. They are the ones who have failed. Pity them if you must, but it is better not to think about them. They are the willing victims of the demons who sought to bar my way, when I was commanded to return to the world and learn the mysteries of love and hate. Love! Yes, there has been more love born of this war than the earth has known in all the two thousand years of Christianity. For the human race is awake at last, and that it may not go to sleep again is my purpose in once more breaking through the wall that separates me from you.

March 5, 1915

Letter 2

A Dweller on the Threshold

There was one demon who seemed to be a leader of demons. He was unlike many of the others—more personal, more egocentric. As we stood opposite each other I entered into conversation with him, partly to satisfy my curiosity, partly to throw him off his guard. “Who are you?” I asked. “You seem to be a ruler among your kind.” He straightened himself with pride. “I am indeed a ruler,” he said, “a ruler on earth and up here.” “On earth also?” I queried. “Yes, also on earth,” he answered, “for I am the deeper self of a man who is great among men, a man who will follow my will as others follow his will.” Then he made a claim which startled me, and I forbear to repeat it. “If you are the evil self of a man still living,” I demanded, “how do you stand as a separate entity up here? How are you apart from him?”

“You are somewhat ignorant,” he said to me. “I am ignorant of many things,” I admitted. “Instruct me in any way you can. I have a thirst for knowledge.” “Know then,” he said pompously, “that I broke away from the earthly form that had enchained me when he acknowledged my rulership and worshipped me as his genius.” “He set you free?” I asked. “He set me free by acknowledging me as his Master. His knowledge is even less than yours, and he called me by a name that I despise; but so long as I rule I care not the name I rule by. Or I care little,” he corrected himself. “But such things as these are too deep for you!” “I am deeper than you think,” I asserted, “and I have met your kind before.” “My kind maybe, but not my equals. I am a King among spirits.” “I had observed your crown,” I said, “it has a familiar look.”

During this colloquy the Teacher had stood silently by, but now I turned to him with an unspoken question. He led me aside a little way, and said: “When a man exalts himself too much, he sets free the demon within him. He often thinks that he rules the demon, and sends him on errands through the Invisible; but it is really the demon who commands, and the commands of the man are only echoes.” “And it took this vision of hell to teach me that!” I exclaimed. “What you would have learned in due time by reason or by precept, you now learn by example,” the Teacher said. “You have truly beheld the evil self of a great ruler.” “It is very powerful,” I admitted. “It will grow in power for a time,” the Teacher said, “and then it will go to Gehenna.” “And when will it go to Gehenna?” “When peace returns to the world, after the war is exhausted up here. But the war will be exhausted up here before peace returns to the world.” “What war is about to be fought?” I asked. “The greatest war of all time,” the Teacher said, “the greatest war of all time up here, and also on the earth.”

“And when will it begin?” “It is already begun here, as you have seen. Had you not been far away you would have known it before.” “I have indeed been far away,” I said. “An angel has shown me many stars, and I have learned much.” “The angel kept you away from the world until you should be strong enough, and rested enough, to work as well as learn.” “And where does my work lie?” I asked. “In many fields,” he answered. “But first you must fight your way through the astral world above Europe and save your friends who are in danger.” Swimming the Hellespont was a minor feat compared to swimming that sea of devils, but I got through. A year before I could not have done it, perhaps, for the forces of good were overpowered. There is a tide in good and evil, as well as a tide in the sea. Evil was at the flood. I saved one friend in danger, and saw that another was safe.

Back in the sea of hate, when I was nearly exhausted, the Beautiful Being, that angel who had been my guide so long, came and whispered something in my ear. It was a spur to ambition. “You may be the historian of this great struggle,” it said, “if you do not fail in your tasks.” Do not be startled by the word “ambition.” There are many kinds of ambition, and a sincere wish to be personally of service may as well be called by that name as by any other, if there is love behind it.

March 6

Letter 3

An Assurance

Take it from me at this early stage of our writing: The forces of good overpowered the forces of evil a month ago, and the issue is settled here. The power set in motion will spend itself, and peace will return to the world.

March 10

Letter 4

The Way of Understanding

Before I tell you any more horrors, I want to assure you now that out of those horrors will come a beauty such as the world has not known during this cycle of existence It will not come at once, for many adjustments will have to be made; but the way is open already for those who choose to walk in it. It is a curious commentary on unregenerate humanity, this war in which each side declares loudly its own righteousness and execrates its opponent. As in all quarrels, there is more wrong on one side than on the other; but the side which triumphs—and it will be the side that has least wrong—will have to understand and to forgive its enemy before it can go forward to its own great future.