THE SEVEN PURPOSES


      Chapter X

      THE experience at L____, while stimulat-
      ing, was also fatiguing, and for several days
      thereafter I was tired and dull, receiving with
      difficulty the few communications that were
      attempted.

      Tuesday evening, April 23d, two of Anne
      Lowe's friends wished to talk to her, but were
      told that she was busy and could not come.
      Mary K. answered some of their questions,
      concluding: "Anne sends love to you both,
      and says please come again soon. She is sorry
      she can't come now."

      After giving me the twelfth Lesson, Mary K.
      had said: "That is the last formal lesson. The
      rest will be given in other ways."

      "You mean through interviews and personal
      messages?"

      "Not entirely. You will be given signed
      letters, by great forces."

      Afterward, she mentioned these prospective
      communications sometimes as "letters," some-
      times as "talks," but Mary Kendal told us,
      May 13th, that this intention had been tem- [256]
      porarily abandoned, as sufficient material for
      the book had already been given. Evidently
      this decision had been reached only recently,
      however, for an attempt to give me the first
      letter was frustrated on the 25th of April, and
      a second period of confusion and partial con-
      trol by invading forces ensued.

      During the morning, Mary K. prepared me
      for this letter, in a communication written
      quickly and easily, as follows:

      "Men will ask the theory of the letters that
      are coming to them through you. This must
      be explained.

      "As the Lessons have been given to me to
      deliver to the world through you, so the letters
      that are to come will be given to me by the
      forces from whom they come. The reason
      that they come through me is that I reach
      you more freely, when you are alone, than any
      other force known to you and therefore com-
      manding your confidence. . . .

      "The Lessons came from great forces com-
      bined. They represent unity of all purposes,
      and were framed by the co-operation and agree-
      ment of the greatest forces of each construc-
      tive purpose, to reach the consciousness of men
      in general terms of your plane.

      "The reason that these forces do not come
      to you personally is that not all of them can [257]
      reach you as freely as I do. Your simile of
      wireless telegraphy is a good one. It does not
      fully explain the connection between you and
      me, but is as good an explanation as the prog-
      ress of physical science enables you on that
      plane to follow. The full explanation will in-
      evitably be possible, as physical scientists are
      already beginning to work toward it.

      "You and I may be regarded as the receiving
      and sending instruments through which forces
      here transmit their messages. You receive
      from many other instruments, I send through
      others. But for impersonal messages you and
      I are most completely in accord, and thus
      it is that these greater forces use us as a means
      of communication. The first letter is ready
      now."

      It chanced, unfortunately, that I was called
      away, and when I was prepared to take the
      letter, later in the day, almost two hours were
      consumed in an attempt to write the name
      of its author, who was described as "a leading
      educator." Eventually I was assured that
      "Matthew Alden" was correct, but, while the
      name was repeatedly written, I had a strong
      impression that it was not what Mary K. had
      intended to write. Reminding myself of pre-
      vious difficulties in obtaining names, I tried to
      believe that the delay and fatigue incident to [258]
      this effort had contributed to my doubt of its
      authenticity. But the doubt remained.

      The long letter which followed was also re-
      ceived with great difficulty and many delays,
      and proved, when completed, to be a verbose
      jumble of platitudes concerning educational
      methods, with here and there a striking phrase.
      It was signed, "Matthew Al. . . ." By this
      time, I was excessively tired and could obtain
      but one statement from Mary K. "You have
      not the name right."

      Later in the evening, I took up a pencil,
      and it wrote: "Mar . . . Matthew Ald. . . ."
      The name was not finished.

      "Isn't Mary K. here?"

      "No. No, she will return."

      "She said she would be with me through
      this work."

      "She will again. Mary K. . . ." Illegible
      lines followed.

      "Is this Mary K. now?"

      "No. Mary K. has gone. This is Mar. . . ."
      Again the reply trailed off indeterminately.

      "Mary Kendal?"

      "No. Mary K. has gone. Matthew."
      Eventually, failing to elicit any response
      from Mary K., I asked whether Matthew had
      anything to say to me, and he replied with
      vague phrases, so reminiscent of the "letter" [259]
      that I impatiently gave up the attempt for
      the day.

      The next day, Friday, Matthew's signature
      was the only one obtainable, but I have no
      record of any messages. I think I refused to
      take them from him. Saturday morning, I
      tried again.

      "Matthew ald. . . ."

      "I want Mary K. Why isn't she here?"

      "Mary K. will be ret . . . eternally with you."

      "Then isn't she here now?"

      "No, she was called away. She will come
      back soon."

      "Was that letter from the 'educator' yours?"

      "No, I am not a force for light. I am for
      truth and healing."

      "Did you deliver it to me?"

      "No."

      "Then why was your name given before it?"

      "Mary K. to . . . taken . . . told . . . took . . .
      tried to tell you I was here and would guard
      you. She will return soon."

      "Do you know about the letter? Did she
      give it to me?"

      "Not all of it. She will explain. I am just
      Mary K.'s tatl . . . to . . . tr . . .tried . . .
      trained substitute."

      Asked how he could be her substitute, when
      admittedly not of her purpose, he said: "Heal-[260
      ing is her purpose and mine, and truth the
      best guard."

      At this time the Farrow mystery was still
      unsolved. Not until after this second pro-
      longed experience was I given any explana-
      tion of these attacks by opposing forces, or of
      the conditions governing such struggles, and
      while I was less disquieted than upon the
      first occasion, I was still puzzled and uneasy,
      strongly suspecting interference of some kind.

      That afternoon, Mrs. Gaylord and one of
      her daughters, passing through the city, came
      in for a brief talk with Frederick, and while
      there was at first some interference, he was
      soon writing with his customary clarity and
      vigor.

      When his sister asked about a personality
      aggressively demanding utterance through her
      pencil, he said: "Not much! Don't give in
      to him. . . . Don't you let anybody you don't
      know tell you anything. It. may be true and
      it may not, and it's not a game to play any
      more blindfolded than you have to be. You
      have to take a good deal on faith, at best.
      Identify anybody who comes, as far as pos-
      sible."

      "Can you tell me from whom that 'letter'
      came?" I asked.

      "That letter got deteriorated in trans- [261]
      mission. It short-circuited, so to speak, and
      was somewhat damaged. The next, we hope,
      will be better."

      After my friends' departure, I caught Mary
      K. briefly, when she told me the source of the
      letter she had tried to deliver, adding that it
      had been too much interrupted. "Other forces
      tried to intervene and dominated you tem-
      porarily," she said, after which the pencil
      wrote only "Ma . . . Ma . . . Ma . . ." some-
      times surrounding the letters with two re-
      versed circles. I suggested Maynard, but the
      answer was, "No . . . Ma . . . Ma . . . Matt . . ."

      "I am not a disintegrating force," was the
      reply to my accusation. "I am Mary K. . . ."

      "Mary K. back?"

      ". . . no . . . her substitute. Mary K. will
      return soon.

      "Are you sure of that?"

      "Yes. Mary K. is here." This was fol-
      lowed by Mary K.'s characteristic and vigorous
      signature. "You should know me."

      "It seems easy for the others to masquer-
      ade," I mentioned.

      "Not to your touch," she returned, indicat-
      ing a means of identification that I had hesi-
      tated to trust.

      "Why do you leave me?" I demanded.

      "You know I have followed light, healing, [262]
      and justice all my life," was her retort. "Why
      doubt me now? I leave you that . . . Ma . . .
      Ma . . . Ma . . ."

      By a curious coincidence, the names of sev-
      eral persons connected with these communi-
      cations begin with those two letters—Mary
      K., Mary Kendal, Mansfield, Maynard, Mar-
      garet—and I suggested each of them in turn,
      before it occurred to me that "M. A." signi-
      fied Matthew Alden, the usurper.

      That evening was spent with Anne Lowe
      and her friends—Anne in one of her whimsical
      moods, jesting most of the time, with oc-
      casional more serious moments.

      Speaking of a dog for whose death they had
      grieved, she said: "He came, and grew into
      a better force, and some day he'll make an
      adorable baby. Part of him, anyway. He was
      almost human. Every force goes on to a higher
      one—unless it slides back. In the end it's got
      to go on, so why fret and fume about a step
      either way? Whichever way it is, it's one step
      nearer the end, and the end is inevitable and fine.
      If people must have coasting, let them coast.
      They'll begin climbing that much sooner."

      "Matt . . ." was written once, but with one
      voice we refused to talk to him. Mary K.
      followed, with a reference to a promise she had
      made to Ruth, several weeks before. Then Anne [263]
      again, with an apparently clear connection.

      Sunday, I was unable to get anything from
      Mary K. I was told she was away, doing my
      work. Monday morning, M. A. told me that
      Mary K. would be "through with the task
      soon," and wrote various phrases intended to
      be misleading. In my note-book, at this point,
      I find the following entry: "I am beginning
      to get M. A.'s messages a little more freely,
      but they are still slow and difficult."

      Upon the departure of a visitor, late in the
      afternoon, I was conscious of a strong sum-
      mons, and of a strange sense of turmoil and
      commotion. When I took up the pencil, the
      applied force was very strong at moments,
      then ceased utterly—sometimes sharply, in the
      middle of a word, or with a letter only half
      formed. Occasionally, the pencil was dragged
      down until it almost lay flat on the paper, and
      cancelations were frequent.

      "Matthew Alden is destructive . . . Ma . . .
      M.A. . . . Matthew is destr. . . . des . . . de . . .
      disturbed about Mary K. She means to be
      the force de . . . to have . . . han . . . handle
      you, but she destr . . . has not done . . . been
      here . . . held to her purpose, and has departed
      to the other side of the world. She must be
      held firmly to her purpose."

      Knowing Mary K.'s steadfastness in all [264]
      things, I said that this was absurd.

      "She will be pursued . . . bett . . . forced to
      strong pleading to be allowed to do the rest
      of the letters. She should be having a follow-
      ing of our forces. She has been detained for
      a long time. Matthew Alden . . . is having
      a battle. . . . Matthew has been defeated and
      . . . M.A. . . . Matthew is de . . . det . . ."

      Bewildered and irritated, I demanded:
      "What does this mean?"

      "Means that the powers . . . forces of de . . .
      construction are defeated. We have been
      beaten."

      "I don't believe that for a minute," I said.
      "Or do you mean the military forces? Is
      Germany winning a battle to-day?"

      "No, that is the least of it."

      "Are you trying to tell me that Germany
      will win?"

      "Yes, we are defeated. Her forces have
      reassembled, and have helped her slaughter
      ours." Again I said I did not believe it.
      "M.A. . . . Matthew is doing his best."

      "You said he was defeated."

      "He lost a fight."

      "If you are Mary K.'s substitute, why doesn't
      she come to the rescue?" I asked.

      "She didn't. She believes Matthew held
      out. . . . Message from Mary K. Margaret, [265]
      I do. . . . I do fight for you." I asked if Mary
      K. were writing. "No. Go to high forces
      for help. Only be forceful for us first. Mary
      K. will do her best for forces of light and
      progress. Matthew is better and danger is
      passing. M.A." I demanded Mary K. "Not
      this time. All the forces have gathered. . . .
      She should . . . said be forceful."

      Saying that the whole thing seemed absurd,
      I asked whether it had to do with Germany
      and the war, or with the book and me—pro-
      vided it had to do with anything, which I be-
      gan to question.

      "It is the flander . . . it is the battle . . .
      book, not the godse . . . god sent war."

      Amazed, I questioned: "Is God-sent war
      right?"

      After some delay—when one of the numerous
      blanks occurred, all force being withdrawn from
      the pencil—the impression of tumult instantly
      ceased, leaving a sense of sudden quiet and
      peace. Then—" Mary K. Mary K. Mary K."

      "That feels like Mary K.," I said.

      "It means Mary K., too."

      "What did all that mean?"

      "Meant that the forces of disintegration
      have had control of you for days, at moments.
      Matthew was a force for fear."

      When I asked whether she had been away [266]
      she wrote quickly: "No, not for one instant.
      He held me back, and called to your fear in
      accents of truth. . . . We have the forces all
      about us, and sometimes we are overpowered
      and compelled to let them through temporarily,
      but they can always be fought away in time."

      Brisk circles of affirmation followed my sug-
      gestion that possibly this explained the Far-
      row episode, and she made the statement pre-
      viously quoted: "We had a terrific struggle
      for you then. We told you the truth, but the
      other forces controlled the pencil."

      Weeks afterward, I asked her to explain
      more fully this dual control, and her reply
      seems to me singularly illuminating.

      "The connection with the pencil has no
      influence on your consciousness. We may con-
      trol the consciousness, through purpose and
      its unity, even though other forces control the
      material instrument."

      This seems not only to show why these
      messages are written sometimes with and
      sometimes without the messenger's previous
      knowledge of their content, but also to offer
      a possible explanation of phenomena of a much
      wider range.

      To my great surprise, Mary Kendal an-
      nounced herself a day or two after this, having
      preceded Mansfield, she said, because I was [267]
      "fairly beleaguered by the enemy" in an at-
      tempt to prevent the publication of the
      message.

      In spite of this reinforcement, however, M.
      A. persisted in attempts to engage my atten-
      tion. On one occasion, he invited me to "try
      a little change" and talk to him. On another,
      he asked me to let him write, as he had "a
      long story to tell" about my husband, who
      was out of town. Again, he assured me that
      I had disappointed "them," that "they" felt
      that I had failed as a messenger, and that
      Mary K. had departed permanently. Still
      again, when confusion seemed to have over-
      taken the book project, he declared, quite
      frankly: "We have stopped you now. M.A."

      No longer troubled by these intrusions, how-
      ever, I never permitted him to use the pencil
      after his identity had been discovered. Oc-
      casionally I was deceived for a moment, and
      not infrequently it was his failure to complete
      a sentence or a word that betrayed him.

      "He defeats himself by his fear, like all
      cowards," Mary K. said, one day, and when
      I mentioned that his messages lacked con-
      tinuity, she returned: "No coward is consecu-
      tive. How could he be?"

      These were by no means the last of the en-
      counters with Matthew. Mr. Kendal arrived [268]
      on the 7th of May, and a night or two later,
      when several of those interested in these com-
      munications were together, M. A. made his
      appearance again. For some time his initials
      followed every attempt to establish communi-
      cation with our invisible friends, but event-
      ually we obtained Mary Kendal's clear sig-
      nature, and a message, slowly written, with
      frequent pauses, during which the personality
      striving to oppose her was gradually overcome.
      M. A.'s erratic touch was occasionally evident,
      lessening in strength as Mary's steady, gentle
      control increased.

      "Come on," she said, finally. "We are
      ready for a little fun now, and we will leave the
      more serious matters until we have more truly
      a clear field."

      Accordingly, we abandoned our intended
      inquiry, for the moment, resorting to persi-
      flage, in which she took an active part, writing
      with increased fluency.

      "Laughter is a constructive force, children,"
      she told us, when things were going smoothly
      again. "Remember that when you fight fiends.
      . . . If we keep our touch close, and laugh like
      that, with real mirth, they can't get in."

      Later that evening, Anne Lowe came for
      a moment, just to tell us, she said, that we
      had made a step in learning what laughter [269]
      that is from the heart will do. "It is protec-
      tive, constructive, curative, and the devil for
      devils. They can't get over, or around, or
      through it. That's your best weapon and your
      best protection, aside from fundamental pur-
      poses. Use it, and more power to your—what
      is it you laugh with? Diaphragm, or what?"

      The next night, when conditions were normal
      from the first, we asked Mary Kendal about
      this incident, and she said: "It was just a
      massed attack, which will occur from time to
      time. They will fight as long as they exist,
      but the virulence and violence of their present
      efforts is due to our united attack on them."

      An interesting and illuminating variation of
      these occasional sorties occurred during an
      interview between a man of whose personal
      relations and interests I have only the most
      casual knowledge, and a personality on the
      next plane whom I knew not at all.

      The first messages to him, as to most of the
      others, concerned purpose and its unity. Ap-
      parently not convinced of the authenticity
      of their source, he repeatedly asked for an
      intimate, characteristic, personal message.
      Not receiving it, he asked a question relating
      to an entirely imaginary situation—"just to
      see," as he afterward explained.

      The question was answered in detail, im- [270]
      mediately followed by the statement, "Phil
      fears too much."

      Suspecting interference, from the peculiar
      movement of the pencil, I asked him who Phil
      was, and when he replied that he knew no
      such person, I demanded to know who was
      writing.

      "M.A." This signature was not complete,
      but the reply to a question in this connection,
      purporting to come from Mary K., was fol-
      lowed by a vigorous repetition of M. A.'s
      initials, inclosed in two reversed circles—his
      characteristic signature when in full control
      of the pencil.

      My visitor then admitted that he had asked
      a fictitious question, but attempts to learn who
      had answered it resulted in contradictory asser-
      tions from various sources, and knowing the
      difficulty of re-establishing a connection once
      effectually broken, I refused to continue the
      interview.

      "The integrity of the seeker," Mary K. said,
      the next day, "is the messenger's only protec-
      tion from disintegrating force during an in-
      terview. These forces should be persistently
      repelled, not invited. Ignorance of their pres-
      ence and power frequently opens a way for
      them, as in this instance. Absolute sincerity
      and candor are essential to the maintenance [271]
      of a connection with constructive forces, in
      these interviews."

      "Forces of disintegration do not wait to be
      invited," she asserted, on another occasion.

      "They constantly attack, and seize the first
      opportunity to take possession. We, also,
      watch and call, and enter where we can. But
      the idea of original sin is so strongly implanted
      in the minds of most men, that an assumption
      that disintegrating force can only enter where
      it is invited is inevitable. It must be clearly
      understood that attack by forces of disinte-
      gration does not imply weakness, or fear, or
      sinful desire. It implies only a desire on the
      part of the attacking force to destroy. That
      there are individuals given to disintegration is
      another matter. Those most desirous of con-
      struction and progress are more often attacked
      by persistent, massed forces of destructive
      purpose. To be conscious of this is to be pro-
      tected, to some degree. For that reason, we
      urge the publication of these truths, that the
      struggle may no longer be waged in ignorance
      and doubt and confusion."

      "Does 'massed forces of destructive pur-
      pose' imply some combination, or co-operation,
      or co-ordination, among disintegrating forces?"
      Mary K. was asked, at another time.

      "Yes, they combine every appealing force, [272]
      as we do. One man may answer to doubt,
      fear, cupidity, and envy. Another to malice,
      doubt, and lust. Any forces that can reach him
      mass themselves in attack and call on their pur-
      poses in him to respond."

      "Then there must be a considerable degree
      of intelligence among them. You said they
      would become constructive when intelligent."

      "When intelligent enough. I never meant
      to imply that the purposes and forces of de-
      struction are unintelligent. They are not fully
      intelligent. They are not balanced, not fully
      animated. All forces of construction compre-
      hend destruction. No forces of destruction
      comprehend construction. They are intelligent
      and wily in destruction, but fail to apprehend
      its futility."

      "Are they what we on this plane call un-
      educated, unlearned, ignorant in that sense?"

      "They are sometimes found on your plane
      among the highly educated, learned, and power-
      ful. Here we regard them as undeveloped
      forces, to be fought unceasingly until they
      consent to become constructive."

      "You don't call that coercing your brother,
      do you?" I asked.

      "No, we do not compel them to construct,
      if they would destroy by preference. We op-
      pose them until they perceive that they must [273]
      fail, and seek light. Then we accept them,
      instruct them, and are stronger. . . . The forces
      opposing us have no faith, hence no knowledge
      of a future. They dread destruction, fear the
      end of existence, deny a future, and constantly
      seek to destroy the inevitable."

      In this connection, Mr. Kendal once asked
      Mary: "What do the evil forces think they're
      trying to do? Have they lost the great pri-
      mary idea? Was there a great primary idea?
      Or are they just bandar-logging it around in
      a chaotic forest of spiritual upas-trees, scream-
      ing at anything they happen to see?"

      "There was no great primary idea of de-
      struction," she returned. "A lot of idle force
      gathered together, and finding itself behind the
      procession in strength, radiance, and beauty,
      began envying and coveting and backbiting,
      and from that to destruction is a logical and
      inevitable progression. "Why is anybody among
      you envious, or malicious, or cowardly, or de-
      structive? There is no great idea behind it.
      They see they are behind somebody else in
      something, and instead of developing what
      constructive power they have of their own,
      they hate the person who has more and try
      to destroy him, or his reputation, or his prop-
      erty. There you have concrete examples of
      all the idea there is in destructive purpose. [274]
      It's spiritual unintelligence."

      "Why did they quit Germany?" he asked,
      then. "Isn't the apotheosis of such personal
      and deterrent and soul-driving and dominating
      purposes just their caliber?"

      "They see the forces of progress gathering
      among you, and know that they cannot win
      through Germany. She still follows their
      methods, but without their help, while every
      vibration of progressive and co-operative pur-
      pose among you enables us to help you more.
      So they have left her to the fruits of their
      union, the consequence inevitable, and hatch
      fresh mischief themselves."