The Project Gutenberg eBook, Beyond, by Henry Seward Hubbard

Title: Beyond

Author: Henry Seward Hubbard

Release Date: November 25, 2011 [eBook #38134]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEYOND***

E-text prepared by David E. Brown, Bryan Ness,
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from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/American Libraries
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BEYOND

BY

HENRY SEWARD HUBBARD

BOSTON
ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copley Square
1896

Copyrighted, 1896,
BY
HENRY SEWARD HUBBARD.

All Rights Reserved.

Arena Press.

BEYOND

TO
LOVERS OF THE TRUTH,
WHATEVER
LAND MAY CLAIM THEM FOR ITS OWN,
TO THE
EARNEST MEN AND WOMEN
OF MY TIME,
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

A word of explanation in reference to my title may be appropriately given here. By Beyond, I mean what is sometimes called the unseen world, but which might better be called the immaterial world, since that which distinguishes it from the world proper is not merely that it is invisible, but that it cannot be made visible to mortal eyes.

However, I have not assumed to treat of all that the word might be made to cover, but have confined myself mostly to that territory, with the entrance to it, which may be said to adjoin the earth, and which therefore is more immediately interesting and important to be acquainted with, and have addressed myself especially to those who seem to be constitutionally unable to perceive the reality of this other world, although willing and anxious to be convinced.

If there is any one thing more than another which I hope to convey, it is that the truths which pertain to the superior life do not conflict with common sense, however they may rise beyond the perfect grasp of that power of the mind.

Henry Seward Hubbard.

INTRODUCTION.

To my Brothers and Sisters,

Greeting.

I had known for some time that I had a book to write, but not exactly how I was going to set about it, when there fell under my notice the following appeal, whose unique and touching eloquence, I venture to say, is without a parallel in our literature.

"There have always been those, and now they are more numerous than ever, who maintain that the dead do return.

"Far be it from me to dogmatically negative the assertions of honest, earnest men engaged in the study of a subject so awful, so reverent, so solemn, where the student stands with a foot on each side of the boundary-line between two worlds.

"We know a little of the hither, can we know aught of the thither world?" 'How pure in heart, how sound in head, with what affections bold,' should be the explorer on a voyage so sublime! Never from 'peak of Darien' did the flag of exploration fly over the opening up of a realm so mighty.

"How stale and trite the fleet of a Magellan to the adventurous soul who would circumnavigate the archipelagoes of the dead!"

"How commonplace Pizarro to him who would launch forth on that black and trackless Pacific across the expanse of which has ever lain the dread and the hope of our race!"

"They know little who are robed in university gowns. What know they who are robed in shrouds? We gather but little from the platform; what can we learn from the grave? The wisdom of the press is foolishness. Is there no voice from the sepulchre? It is we, not you, who are in darkness, O ye dead! The splendor of the iris of eternity has flashed on your plane of vision; but our heavy eyelids droop in the shadow of the nimbus of time.

"Can you tell us naught? Can we never know your secret till, in the dust, we lay down our bones with yours?"

"We are here in the care, the poverty, the sin, and, above all, in the darkness. Oh, if ye can, have mercy on us; shed a ray from your shekinah-light athwart the darkness of our desolation. We are trodden down by our brothers among the living. Help us, our fathers from the dead."[A]

How profoundly these words moved me cannot easily be told, for my entire life, up to this point, seems to have been made up of the various stages of a preparation enabling me to respond to just such an appeal as this, echoed, as I know full well it is, from the hearts of thousands of my fellow-beings. Yet one who should enter the rose-embowered cottage by the sea where I sit writing, would never dream that I guard treasures of knowledge gathered in the hidden realm that lies beyond the sense.

For years have passed, and lonely life has changed to family life, and there have been times when I have felt almost at home again within the confines of the purely earthly realm of thoughts and things. Not quite, however, for that would be impossible. And now, shall I branch out in a tale of strange adventure? Shall I seek to convey to my readers what led to those experiences which have so isolated me in thought? Shall I describe their outward aspect, the channel through which they were received, as for instance, a dream, a trance, a vision, or other ways less known?

To do so might amuse or entertain, but that is not my object. Besides, I understand thoroughly that in these modern days it is the truth, and not the truth-teller, that is wanted. If a man has anything to say, let him say it, and if it bear the stamp of truth, if it will stand the test of analysis the most severe, it will be accepted. If not, he may show a ticket of his travels beyond the moon, but that will not avail him.

All that I ask of my readers is that they will permit me to write of that realm which is so hidden from mortals that many of them deny its very existence, as though I knew all about it. Whether I do or not, no mere statement, in the absence of other evidence, could in the least decide.