Theos-Talk Archives (May 2002 Message tt00027)

PART V -- A BEWITCHED LIFE

by H P B


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PART V	-- A BEWITCHED LIFE




V -- RETURN OF DOUBTS


Then came a reaction as sudden as my grief itself. A doubt arose in my
mind, which forthwith grew into a fierce desire of denying the truth
of what I had seen. A stubborn resolution of treating the whole thing
as an empty, meaningless dream, the effect of my overstrained mind,
took possession of me. Yes; it was but a lying vision, an idiotic
cheating of my own senses, suggesting pictures of death and misery
which had been evoked by weeks of incertitude and mental depression.

"How could I see all that I have seen in less than half a minute?" --
I exclaimed. "The theory of dreams, the rapidity with which the
material changes on which our ideas in vision depend, are excited in
the hemispherical ganglia, is sufficient to account for the long
series of events I have seemed to experience. In dream alone can the
relations of space and time be so completely annihilated. The
Yamabooshi is for nothing in this disagreeable nightmare. He is only
reaping that which has been sown by myself, and, by using some
infernal drug, of which his tribe have the secret, he has contrived to
make me lose consciousness for a few seconds and see that vision -- as
lying as it is horrid. Avaunt all such thoughts, I believe them not.
In a few days there will be a steamer sailing for Europe . . . . I
shall leave to-morrow!

This disjointed monologue was pronounced by me aloud, regardless of
the presence of my respected friend the Bonze, Tamoora, and the
Yamabooshi. The latter was standing before me in the same position as
when he placed the mirror in my hands, and kept looking at me calmly,
I should perhaps say looking through me, and in dignified silence. The
Bonze, whose kind countenance was beaming with sympathy, approached me
as he would a sick child, and gently laying his hand on mine, and with
tears in his eyes, said: "Friend, you must not leave this city before
you have been completely purified of your contact with the lower
Daij-Dzins (spirits), who had to be used to guide your inexperienced
soul to the places it craved to see. The entrance to your Inner Self
must be closed against their dangerous intrusion. Lose no time,
therefore, my Son, and allow the holy Master, yonder, to purify you at
once."

But nothing can be more deaf than anger once aroused. "The sap of
reason" could no longer "quench the fire of passion," and at that
moment I was not fit to listen to his friendly voice. His is a face I
can never recall to my memory without genuine feeling; his, a name I
will ever pronounce with a sigh of emotion; but at that ever memorable
hour when my passions were inflamed to white heat, I felt almost a
hatred for the kind, good old man, I could not forgive him his
interference in the present event. Hence, for all answer, therefore,
he received from me a stern rebuke, a violent protest on my part
against the idea that I could ever regard the vision I had had, in any
other light save that of an empty dream, and his Yamabooshi as
anything better than an imposter. "I will leave to-morrow, had I to
forfeit my whole fortune as a penalty" -- I exclaimed, pale with rage
and despair.

"You will repent it the whole of your life, if you do so before the
holy man has shut every entrance in you against intruders ever on the
watch and ready to enter the open door," was the answer. "The
Daij-Dzins will have the best of you."

I interrupted him with a brutal laugh, and a still more brutally
phrased enquiry about the fees I was expected to give the Yamabooshi,
for his experiment with me.

"He needs no reward," was the reply. "The order he belongs to is the
richest in the world, since its adherents need nothing, for they are
above all terrestrial and venal desires. Insult him not, the good man
who came to help you out of pure sympathy for your suffering, and to
relieve you of mental agony."
But I would listen to no words of reason and wisdom. The spirit of
rebellion and pride had taken possession of me, and made me disregard
every feeling of personal friendship, or even of simple propriety.
Luckily for me, on turning round to order the medican monk out of my
presence, I found he had gone.

I had not seen him move, and attributed his stealthy departure to fear
at having been detected and understood.

Fool! blind, conceited idiot that I was! Why did I fail to recognize
the Yamabooshi's power, and that the peace of my whole life was
departing with him, from that moment for ever? But I did so fail. Even
the fell demon of my long fears -- uncertainty -- was now entirely
overpowered by that fiend scepticism -- the silliest of all. A dull,
morbid unbelief, a stubborn denial of the evidence of my own senses,
and a determined will to regard the whole vision as a fancy of my
overwrought mind, had taken firm hold of me.

"My mind," I argued, "what is it? Shall I believe with the
superstitious and the weak that this production of phosphorus and grey
matter is indeed the superior part of me; that it can act and see
independently of my physical senses? Never! As well believe in the
planetary 'intelligences' of the astrologer, as in the 'Daij-Dzins' of
my credulous though well-meaning friend, the priest. As well confess
one's belief in Jupiter and Sol, Saturn and Mercury, and that these
worthies guide their spheres and concern themselves with mortals, as
to give one serious thought to the airy nonentities supposed to have
guided my 'soul' in its unpleasant dream! I loathe and laugh at the
absurd idea. I regard it as a personal insult to the intellect and
rational reasoning powers of a man, to speak of invisible creatures,
'subjective intelligences,' and all that kind of insane superstition."
In short, I begged my friend the Bonze to spare me his protests, and
thus the unpleasantness of breaking with him for ever.

Thus I raved and argued before the venerable Japanese gentleman, doing
all in my power to leave on his mind the indelible conviction of my
having gone suddenly mad. But his admirable forbearance proved more
than equal to my idiotic passion; and he implored me once more, for
the sake of my whole future, to submit to certain "necessary
purificatory rites."

"Never! Far rather dwell in air, rarified to nothing by the air-pump
or wholesome unbelief, than in the dim fog of silly superstition," I
argued, paraphrazing Richter's remark. "I will not believe," I
repeated; "but as I can no longer bear such uncertainty about my
sister and her family, I will return by the first steamer to Europe."

This final determination upset my old acquaintance altogether. His
earnest prayer not to depart before I had seen the Yamabooshi once
more, received no attention from me.

"Friend of a foreign land!" -- he cried, "I pray that you may not
repent of your unbelief and rashness. May the 'Holy One' [Kwan-On, the
Goddess of Mercy] protect you from the Dzins! For, since you refuse to
submit to the process of purification at the hands of the holy
Yamabooshi, he is powerless to defend you from the evil influences
evoked by your unbelief and defiance of truth. But let me, at this
parting hour, I beseach you, let me, an older man who wishes you well,
warn you once more and persuade you of things you are still ignorant
of. May I speak?"

"Go on and have your say," was the ungracious assent. "But let me warn
you, in my turn, that nothing you can say can make of me a believer in
your disgraceful superstitions." This was added with a cruel feeling
of pleasure in bestowing one more needless insult.

But the excellent man disregarded this new sneer as he had all others.
Never shall I forget the solemn earnestness of his parting words, the
pitying, remorseful look on his face when he found that it was,
indeed, all to no purpose, that by his kindly meant interference he
had only led me to my destruction.
"Lend me your ear, good sir, for the last time," he began, "learn that
unless the holy and venerable man; who, to relieve your distress,
opened your 'soul vision,' is permitted to complete his work, your
future life will, indeed, be little worth living. He has to safeguard
you against involuntary repetitions of visions of the same character.
Unless you consent to it of your own free will, however, you will have
to be left in the power of Forces which will harass and persecute you
to the verge of insanity. Know that the development of 'Long Vision'
[clairvoyance] -- which is accomplished at will only by those for whom
the Mother of Mercy, the great Kwan-On, has no secrets -- must, in the
case of the beginner, be pursued with help of the air Dzins (elemental
spirits) whose nature is soulless, and hence wicked. Know also that,
while the Arihat, 'the destroyer of the enemy,' who has subjected and
made of these creatures his servants, has nothing to fear; he who has
no power over them becomes their slave. Nay, laugh not in your great
pride and ignorance, but listen further. During the time of the vision
and while the inner perceptions are directed toward the events they
seek, the Daij-Dzin has the seer -- when, like yourself, he is an
inexperienced tyro -- entirely in its power; and for the time being
that seer is no longer himself. He partakes of the nature of his
'guide.' The Dali-Dzin, which directs his inner sight, keeps his soul
in durance vile, making of him, while the state lasts, a creature like
itself. Bereft of his divine light, man is but a soulless being; hence
during the time of such connection, he will feel no human emotions,
neither pity nor fear, love nor mercy."

"Hold!" I involuntarily exclaimed, as the words vividly brought back
to my recollections the indifference with which I had witnessed my
sister's despair and sudden loss of reason in my "hallucination,"
"Hold! . . . But no; it is still worse madness in me to heed or find
any sense in your ridiculous tale! But if you knew it to be so
dangerous why have advised the experiment at all?" -- I added
mockingly.

"It had to last but a few seconds, and no evil could have resulted
from it, had you kept your promise to submit to purification," was the
sad and humble reply. "I wished you well, my friend, and my heart was
nigh breaking to see you suffering day by day. The experiment is
harmless enough when directed by one who knows, and becomes dangerous
only when the final precaution is neglected. It is the 'Master of
Visions,' he who has opened an entrance into your soul, who has to
close it by using the Seal of Purification against any further and
deliberate ingress of. . . ."

"The 'Master of Visions' forsooth!" I cried, brutally interrupting
him, "say rather the Master of Imposture!"

The look of sorrow on his kind old face was so intense and painful to
behold that I perceived I had gone too far; but it was too late.

"Farewell, then!" said the old Bonze, rising; and after performing the
usual ceremonials of politeness, Tamoora left the house in dignified
silence.


VI -- I DEPART -- BUT NOT ALONE


Several days later I sailed, but during my stay I saw my venerable
friend, the Bonze, no more. Evidently on that last, and to me for ever
memorable evening, he had been seriously offended with my more than
irreverent, my downright insulting remark about one whom he so justly
respected. I felt sorry for him, but the wheel of passion and pride
was too incessantly at work to permit me to feel a single moment of
remorse. What was it that made me so relish the pleasure of wrath,
that when, for one instant, I happened to lose sight of my supposed
grievance toward the Yamabooshi, I forthwith lashed myself back into a
kind of artificial fury against him. He had only accomplished what he
had been expected to do, and what he had tacitly promised; not only
so, but it was I myself who had deprived him of the possibility of
doing more, even for my own protection if I might believe the Bonze --
a man whom I knew to be thoroughly honourable and reliable. Was it
regret at having been forced by my pride to refuse the proffered
precaution, or was it the fear of remorse that made me rake together,
in my heart, during those evil hours, the smallest details of the
supposed insult to that same suicidal pride? Remorse, as an old poet
has aptly remarked, "is like the heart in which it grows: . . . .

". . . if proud and gloomy,
It is a poison-tree, that pierced to the utmost,
Weeps only tears of blood" . . .

Perchance, it was the indefinite fear of something of that sort which
caused me to remain so obdurate, and led me to excuse, under the plea
of terrible provocation, even the unprovoked insults that I had heaped
upon the head of my kind and all-forgiving friend, the priest.
However, it was now too late in the day to recall the words of offence
I had uttered; and all I could do was to promise myself the
satisfaction of writing him a friendly letter, as soon as I reached
home. Fool, blind fool, elated with insolent self-conceit, that I was!
So sure did I feel, that my vision was due merely to some trick of the
Yamabooshi, that I actually gloated over my coming triumph in writing
to the Bonze that I had been right in answering his sad words of
parting with an incredulous smile, as my sister and family were all in
good health -- happy!

I had not been at sea for a week, before I had cause to remember his
words of warning!

>From the day of my experience with the magic mirror, I perceived a
great change in my whole state, and I attributed it, at first, to the
mental depression I had struggled against for so many months. During
the day I very often found myself absent from the surroundings scenes,
losing sight for several minutes of things and persons. My nights were
disturbed, my dreams oppressive, and at times horrible. Good sailor I
certainly was; and besides, the weather was unusually fine, the ocean
as smooth as a pond. Notwithstanding this, I often felt a strange
giddiness, and the familiar faces of my fellow-passengers assumed at
such times the most grotesque appearances. Thus, a young German I used
to know well was once suddenly transformed before my eyes into his old
father, whom we had laid in the little burial place of the European
colony some three years before. We were talking on deck of the defunct
and of a certain business arrangement of his, when Max Grunner's head
appeared to me as though it were covered with a strange film. A thick
greyish mist surrounded him, and gradually condensing around and upon
his healthy countenance, settled suddenly into the grim old head I had
myself seen covered with six feet of soil. On another occasion, as the
captain was talking of a Malay thief whom he had helped to secure and
lodge in goal, I saw near him the yellow, villainous face of a man
answering to his description. I kept silence about such
hallucinations; but as they became more and more frequent, I felt very
much disturbed, though still attributing them to natural causes, such
as I had read about in medical books.

One night I was abruptly awakened by a long and loud cry of distress.
It was a woman's voice, plaintive like that of a child, full of terror
and of helpless despair. I awoke with a start to find myself on land,
in a strange room. A young girl, almost a child, was desperately
struggling against a powerful middle-aged man, who had surprised her
in her own room, and during her sleep. Behind the closed and locked
door, I saw listening an old woman, whose face, notwithstanding the
fiendish expression upon it, seemed familiar to me, and I immediately
recognized it: it was the face of the Jewess who had adopted my niece
in the dream I had at Kioto. She had received gold to pay for her
share in the foul crime, and was now keeping her part of the covenant
. . . . But who was the victim? O horror unutterable! Unspeakable
horror! When I realized the situation after coming back to my normal
state, I found it was my own child-niece.

But, as in my first vision, I felt in me nothing of the nature of that
despair born of affection that fills one's heart, at the sight of a
wrong done to, or a misfortune befalling, those one loves; nothing but
a manly indignation in the presence of suffering inflicted upon the
weak and the helpless. I rushed, of course, to her rescue, and seized
the wanton, brutal beast by the neck. I fastened upon him with
powerful grasp, but, the man heeded it not, he seemed not even to feel
my hand. The coward, seeing himself resisted by the girl, lifted his
powerful arm and the thick fist, coming down like a heavy hammer upon
the sunny locks, felled the child to the ground. It was with a loud
cry of the indignation of a stranger, not with that of a tigress
defending her cub, that I sprang upon the lewd beast and sought to
throttle him. I then remarked, for the first time, that, a shadow
myself, I was grasping but another shadow! . . . .

My loud shrieks and imprecations had awakened the whole steamer. They
were attributed to a nightmare. I did not seek to take anyone into my
confidence; but, from that day forward, my life became a long series
of mental tortures, I could hardly shut my eyes without becoming
witness of some horrible deed, some scene of misery, death or crime,
whether past, present or even future -- as I ascertained later on. It
was as though some mocking fiend had taken upon himself the task of
making me go through the vision of everything that was bestial,
malignant and hopeless, in this world of misery. No radiant vision of
beauty or virtue ever lit with the faintest ray these pictures of awe
and wretchedness that I seemed doomed to witness. Scenes of
wickedness, of murder, of treachery and of lust fell dismally upon my
sight, and I was brought face to face with the vilest results of man's
passions, the most terrible outcome of his material earthly cravings.

Had the Bonze foreseen, indeed, the dreary results, when he spoke of
Daij-Dzins to whom I left "an ingress" "a door open" in me? Nonsense!
There must be some physiological, abnormal change in me. Once at
Nuremberg, when I have ascertained how false was the direction taken
by my fears -- I dared not hope for no misfortune at all -- these
meaningless visions will disappear as they came. The very fact that my
fancy follows but one direction, that of pictures of misery, of human
passions in their worst, material shape, is a proof, to me, of their
unreality.

"If, as you say, man consists of one substance, matter, the object of
the physical senses; and if perception with its modes is only the
result of the organization of the brain, then should we be naturally
attracted but to the material, the earthly" . . . I thought I heard
the familiar voice of the Bonze interrupting my reflections, and
repeating an often used argument of his in his discussions with me.

"There are two planes of visions before men," I again heard him say,
"the plane of undying love and spiritual aspirations, the efflux from
the eternal light; and the plane of restless, ever changing matter,
the light in which the misguided Daij-Dzins bathe."


VII -- ETERNITY IN A SHORT DREAM


In those days I could hardly bring myself to realize, even for a
moment, the absurdity of a belief in any kind of spirits, whether good
or bad. I now understood, if I did not believe, what was meant by the
term, though I still persisted in hoping that it would finally prove
some physical derangement or nervous hallucination. To fortify my
unbelief the more, I tried to bring back to my memory all the
arguments used against faith in such superstitions, that I had ever
read or heard. I recalled the biting sarcasms of Voltaire, the calm
reasoning of Hume, and I repeated to myself ad nauseam the words of
Rousseau, who said that superstition, "the disturber of Society,"
could never be too strongly attacked. "Why should the sight, the
phantasmagoria, rather" -- I argued -- "of that which we know in a
waking sense to be false, come to affect us at all?" Why should --

"Names, whose sense we see not
Fray us with things that be not?"

One day the old captain was narrating to us the various superstitions
to which sailors were addicted; a pompous English missionary remarked
that Fielding had declared long ago that "superstition renders a man a
fool," -- after which he hesitated for an instant, and abruptly
stopped. I had not taken any part in the general conversation; but no
sooner had the reverend speaker relieved himself of the quotation than
I saw in that halo of vibrating light, which I now noticed almost
constantly over every human head on the steamer, the words of
Fielding's next proposition -- "and scepticism makes him mad."

I had heard and read of the claims of those who pretend to seership,
that they often see the thoughts of people traced in the aura of those
present. Whatever "aura" may mean with others, I had now a personal
experience of the truth of the claim, and felt sufficiently disgusted
with the discovery! I -- a clairvoyant! a new horror added to my life,
an absurd and ridiculous gift developed, which I shall have to conceal
from all, feeling ashamed of it as if it were a case of leprosy. At
this moment my hatred to the Yamabooshi, and even to my venerable old
friend, the Bonze, knew no bounds. The former had evidently by his
manipulations over me while I was lying unconscious, touched some
unknown physiological spring in my brain, and by loosing it had called
forth a faculty generally hidden in the human constitution; and it was
the Japanese priest who had introduced the wretch into my house!
But my anger and my curses were alike useless, and could be of no
avail. Moreover, we were already in European waters, and in a few more
days we should be at Hamburg. Then would my doubts and fears be set at
rest, and I should find, to my intense relief, that although
clairvoyance, as regards the reading of human thoughts on the spot,
may have some truth in it, the discernment of such events at a
distance, as I had dreamed of, was an impossibility for human
faculties. Notwithstanding all my reasoning, however, my heart was
sick with fear, and full of the blackest presentiments; I felt that my
doom was closing. I suffered terribly, my nervous and mental
prostration becoming intensified day by day.

The night before we entered port I had a dream.


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Continued in Part VI	-- A Bewitched Life

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