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Contents |
THE SEVEN PURPOSES
Chapter II
MEANWHILE, happy letters were coming al-
most daily from the Gaylord family, and less
frequently, but with expressions of equal con-
viction, from Mr. Kendal.
Mrs. Gaylord had promised to spend Easter
week with relatives, in a Middle Western town,
which she had not visited—indeed, had scarcely
dared to think of—since taking Frederick's
body there for burial; and the day after the
second Lesson was given she arrived in New
York, where she paused briefly en route, her
elder daughter and son-in-law joining her the
next morning.
Although her train arrived late in the eve-
ning, we talked a little to Frederick before
separating for the night. We had been com-
menting on her changed appearance.
"Mother dearest, you are not much differ-
enter than I am," he began, after the usual
signature.
"Why, Frederick!" she exclaimed. "Are you
better, too?"
He made the enthusiastic little circle so [150]
often used. "(O) So much better! You can't
guess how much better I am. It helps me as
much as it does you."
"Were you at Mrs. Z____'s the other day?"
she asked, referring to a visit to a "medium,"
of which I had not been informed.
"I was that, but she fell down on what
I was trying to get over," was the reply.
When his mother said she had not received
what she expected on that occasion, he re-
turned: "Nor what we expected. . . . She's all
right, as far as she goes." He told her, also,
that the woman accompanying him, described
by Mrs. Z____, had been his father's mother.
"This is a nice, peaceful powwow we're hav-
ing to-night," he commented, when they had
exchanged views concerning various personal
matters. "I had to work last time, but this
time I'm here for. . ."
The pencil paused, and I asked: "For what?"
"Just for a good time, Mrs. L____. Sis is
coming to the party to-morrow. Hooray!"
A little later, when she expressed some un-
certainty about her ability to go through an
Easter in K____, with all its sad associations,
unshaken, he warned her: "Don't you go back-
sliding!" Continuing, she told us that his
last illness had developed just before Easter,
and that in his desire to give the family an [151]
unclouded day he had persuaded a friend to
send them a typewritten letter, which he signed,
containing no intimation of his illness.
"I'll write you a letter this Easter with a
lot more pep in it," he promised. "You go
on and have your Easter presents, and flowers,
and eggs, and all, and when you begin back-
sliding, stop . . . look . . . listen* . . . and I'll
be on the crossing, ringing the bell."
With an ejaculation of surprise, his mother
told us that she had been recently in the home
of a traffic expert, whose large hall was strik-
ingly decorated with signs for the regulation
of traffic.
"I believe that's what he's thinking of!"
she exclaimed.
"Sure, you've got it! I'll ask Sis to buy
you a bell for me, to remind you."
This diversion had completely banished the
gathering sadness of her reminiscences, and
she began talking of Washington, whence she
had come, saying that there seemed to be a
good deal of pessimism in official circles con-
cerning war conditions. It will be remem-
bered that the bombardment of Paris, by a
long-distance gun, began March 23d.
*Each of these words was written in larger script than the preced-
ing one.
"There are lots of things Washington doesn't [152]
know," Frederick assured her. "The end of
the war must come soon."
We wondered, as I had before, how much
difference there was between his conception of
time, as indicated by the word "soon," and
ours.
"None of us can name the day and hour,
but we see the inevitable end coming soon.
Germany knows she is weakened, but doesn't
know why. We do, and we have told you.
No nation on earth can fight this fight alone,
deserted by all purposes, both for good and
evil, and with only one force left—Fear."
[Long afterward, Mary K. said to me, in
this connection: "We see the awakening pur-
pose of forces for progress in your life, and
are able to help them in proportion to the
vigor with which that purpose is put into
action. Germany, on the other hand, fights
now with only physical power. Eternal forces
are implacably against her, and the forces of
destruction have abandoned her. She has no
ally here now. Her unity is destroyed, while
ours is strengthening. The only danger, as
far as the war is concerned, lies in a weakening
of actual purpose, forcefully expressed in
action. We are your allies, answering your call
and inciting you to endeavor. When Ger-
many began this war she had superhuman [153]
strength, which the world was unprepared to
meet, but for every vibration of pure con-
structive purpose among the Allied forces we
have added two, and only a weakening of your
purpose can defeat us now. Every individual
among you who fails to strive for victory with
all his strength invites disaster."]
Frederick's talk with his mother was brief
that night, and when she arose, to return to
her hotel, he said: "Good night. I am going
home with you, if I may."
This seemed to Cass and me a curious
phrase, under the circumstances, and we also
commented upon his generous use of slang,
especially in the latest interview, wondering
whether it were characteristic of him.
The next morning his sister, Mrs. Wylie,
arrived with her husband, to spend a day with
Mrs. Gaylord in New York. It chanced that
they had been away from home for several
weeks and had seen none of Frederick's manu-
script, nor any copy of it. As she read—from
the original roll—his messages of the preceding
evening, she constantly exclaimed: "How
characteristic!" and his closing phrase brought
tears to her eyes. She told me, then, that
along with a copious use of slang, Frederick
had preserved an odd little formality of phrase,
even in his closest personal relations—a trait [154]
not common to other members of the family.
Later, in glancing for the first time through
the typewritten record of earlier interviews,
again and again she expressed astonishment at
the characteristic quality of his phraseology,
which had not been mentioned to me before.
Mrs. Gaylord had spoken of her vivid con-
sciousness of his personality, imbuing all he
said to her, and had told me, during the earlier
days of this intercourse, more or less about
his habit of thought, but it is characteristic
of her to ignore minor details, and only when
Mrs. Wylie arrived did I learn anything about
his habit of speech.
"Frederick," he announced, when we in-
vited communication, his bold signature
stretching across the whole width of the paper.
"Hello, Sis! This is too good not to be true!
Hello, Dick!" This to Mr. Wylie, whose mar-
riage to his sister had taken place during the
last weeks of his illness. "Welcome home to
the family! We're all in it now, for good and
all. This is the thing we've all needed, I
almost as much as the rest of you, but I did
know that sooner or later it must come, so I
could bear it better than you could."
It must not be understood that all these
communications came as consecutively as they
are presented here. There were frequent pauses; [155]
sometimes because of our preoccupation in con-
versation; sometimes, apparently, because of
difficulties of transmission not explained. Oc-
casionally I stopped to verify a word or a
phrase, asking if it had been correctly taken,
and with increasing frequency the pencil re-
turned without suggestion from me, to cross
out false starts. Some of the latter, which
seemed significant, will be indicated from time
to time. The following message, however,
came rapidly, without pause.
"We are all of kindred purposes. That's
the reason we cling to each other so. Family
hasn't a thing to do with it. It was our good
fortune to have no forces of disintegration in
our immediate group. We are all builders, in
one way or another. Not all in the same way,
but all for the great purpose. This is one of
the things I have wanted to say to you. Don't
be misled by transient relationships of that
life. Respect them, but don't be eternally in-
fluenced by them, because when you get over
here you'll find that some of the people you've
thought you were most fond of have simply
dropped out. You don't need them, nor they
you. Find your purposes clearly, and stick
to them. We all have purpose, but not all of
you there have found out just what yours is.
Find it, and follow it fearlessly. There, that's [156]
off my chest!"
Mr. Wylie spoke of the "upside-down stunt,"
of which some one had written him, and I said it
had been done chiefly to convince me—to show
me, in Frederick's phrase, "who was running it."
"You know now who is running it," he con-
tributed, "but you're certainly formal with
strangers!"
In the midst of some talk of ours, the pencil
swung off with vigor, writing, "Sis!" in huge
script, like a joyous exclamation, ending in
strong circles. "Just wait till I catch Dad!"
he went on. "And Babe, too! All of us to-
gether! Margaret will have to forget her
formality then, I tell you!"
Mrs. Wylie mentioned the common im-
pression that personality must be transmuted
by death into something remote and strange—
that only the soul survived. "Of course, we
love the soul of anyone dear to us," she said.
"But, after all, the thing we know best, and
therefore love best, is the habit of thought—
the characteristic mental attitude, and it is
so wonderful to find Frederick unchanged—
just like himself."
"Sure! Why not?" he returned. " You
people must learn that this isn't 'like himself.'
It is himself. Right here on the job."
"Those words!" His mother and sister ex- [157]
changed startled glances. Then they told me
that just before his long struggle for life on
this plane ended, when during six months his
powers of recuperation had repeatedly as-
tonished surgeons and nurses, he opened his
eyes, to find his father bending over him, and
whispered for the last time: "On the job."
"I've always been on it since, too," he
rapidly assured them, "and longing to tell you
so. You never can know, until you try it,
how we hate to be left out. We're on the job
as you can't even imagine, and it makes us
sort o' sick that we can't get it over to you
of our own love and purpose."
He interrupted the talk following this with:
"Trot along to lunch! I want to start going
and not stop. Get it over, do!"
So we trotted, and got it over as soon as
possible, though throughout the meal he in-
sisted upon having a voice in the conversation,
writing messages on all the blank paper we
had about us, and over the backs of the
available menu cards.
"You can't lose me, and needn't try," he
told me, and when I protested that he was
making it impossible for me to finish my
luncheon, he retorted: "You have a perfectly
good left hand. Eat with that."
Several times Mr. Wylie expressed his in- [158]
terest in what he called "the upside-down
stunt," and when we were again seated about
a writing-table, Frederick "demonstrated."
"Incidentally, Dick," he mentioned, starting
at my right and writing toward my left,
"you wanted to see this work. Well, here you
are. This is the way it is done."
As this began, Mrs. Gaylord smiled, pulling
her chair nearer to the table, where she could
watch every movement of the pencil.
"Sit up closer, Mother dearest," Frederick
continued, "and everybody hold hands." Look-
ing slightly bewildered, she held out her hands
to the others. I said that he had used a figure
of speech, but she thought he had meant
it literally, and we referred the question to
him. "Yes, all but your writing-hand," he
said; so we all joined hands, and I asked
why.
"Just to make us know more surely that
we are all one and indivisible, from now on
through eternity. Easter resurrection for every
one of us. We are all born again, to some ex-
tent, by our communion in this way; I more
than you, because I have left the flesh behind.
But to you has come new life, new force, new
purpose, new faith, through your touch with
this life of pure spirit. It is truly your resur-
rection. This is your Easter message. Hail! [159]
And be happy ever after!"
I anticipated none of this message, and its
tenor surprised me greatly. Before I had re-
covered from my astonishment Mrs. Gaylord
exclaimed: "That must be the Easter letter
he promised me!" Immediately he signed it.
"Frederick, to Mother and all of you."
We spoke of the relation of this whole
revelation to orthodox religion, and some one
said that it was not in accordance with the
Bible.
"Yes, it is," he contradicted. "You have
never learned to read the Bible in this light.
The great prophecies have always been phrased
in the language, and more or less in the spirit,
of the time in which they were uttered. This
is the first time in the history of the world
when physical science has been sufficiently
advanced to enable us to tell the people the
truth in terms they would truly understand.
Prophecies have been veiled, apparently, not
because the truth was vague, but because men
were not prepared to understand it in all its
details. Nor are they now. But this is to be
the whole truth, as far as it can be understood
now by your prophets and people. And for
the first time it is possible to give it to you
directly in this way, without pretense or mys-
tery, book or bell, a natural law operating [160]
naturally and freely, through an accredited
messenger who makes no claim to inspiration."
In the course of our drifting talk his mother
remembered that Mrs. Z____ had tried to
convey a warning through her from Frederick
to Mr. Wylie, but had been unable to tell her
what it concerned. After some effort to dis-
cover its connection, suggesting possible jour-
neys or business ventures, Mrs. Z____ had
finally said that Dick was about to do some-
thing, she did not know what; but whatever
it was, Frederick said he must not do it. Mrs.
Gaylord now asked Frederick what he had
intended to say.
"She didn't get my message. I was trying
to tell him not to be fearful about anything."
Mr. Wylie is sometimes prey to nervous ap-
prehension and worry. "It keeps us back and
we can't help him as we're trying to do. Open
up, Dick! Let us in and we'll all pull to-
gether." This apparently touched some situa-
tion unknown to me, for Mr. and Mrs. Wylie
exchanged glances, and instantly Frederick
made his quick circles. "(O) That's it! Now
we're off! No, it isn't incredible," he added,
replying to some comment of theirs. "It's the
truest thing you ever heard. But Mrs. Z____
can't get beyond externals."
This seems to be a very good example of [161]
the way certain messages are confused by the
persons through whom they come. In this
case, while the intended warning was conveyed,
a purely subjective and spiritual message was
so distorted, however unconsciously and un-
intentionally, that it was given an objective
and material significance.
Asked whether an acquaintance of theirs
would be helped by a knowledge of their inter-
course with him, he said: "She is not ready
for this yet. Few people, comparatively, are
free enough to accept it. It has been forbidden
by the church, ridiculed by the laity, and
labelled 'poison, don't touch' by neurologists
and the scientific, half-baked intellectuals."
"Fake mediums have done a lot to bring it
into disrepute," Mr. Wylie suggested.
"That's the reason for some of it. Another
reason, less obvious to you, but equally po-
tent, is that people who had the sensitiveness
to be messengers frequently lacked the pur-
pose of truth fundamentally, and though
thinking they were honest, entertained devils
unaware. . . . That is the reason so many
people have gone to pieces, mentally and
physically. The purposes of disintegration
caught them and destroyed them. But this
time, we beat them to it."
"All philosophies have had some foundation [162]
of truth," he told us, a little later, "or they
would not have been permitted to live. This
new faith will be attacked by the disintegrating
forces, in an attempt to discredit it as a patch-
work of philosophies. The new truths they
will ignore, or flatly deny. But this is the
whole truth, as far as it can be told now.
Believe it, follow it, preach it, live it, and we
shall truly build that structure I told you of,
Mother dearest, of force, light, and sweetness
—which is you. I seem to be doing a darned
lot of preaching!"
"It isn't like you, either," his mother re-
marked.
"You see, we've got to get this over. It's
imperative."
At that, she said it was like him, after all,
because he had always talked eagerly to the
family about his "job," whatever it might be,
adding: "Is it 'imperative' because of the war
and the sorrow? Or because the time is ripe?"
"It's because there's the very devil of a fight
coming, and we've got to gather every force
we have, and unite it."
"Is beating the Germans helping the con-
structive force? Or is the war merely the
awakening through suffering?"
"Germany has been united in purpose as a
destructive force for many years. They gave [163]
themselves deliberately, not as individuals, but
as a people, to what parsons call the powers
of darkness. We know them to be forces of
disintegration, which found in Germany their
strongest ally in the civilized world. We've
been fighting Germany and her purposes here
for years, I find. Suffering makes people
readier to listen to truth, but beating Germany
was as necessary to the world's health as
sanitation to a hospital."
"That's a clear and explicit statement,"
some one said.
"We are perfectly definite and explicit about
questions of eternal purpose. The difficulty
with most people is that they want to know
how much U. S. Steel will go up next Tuesday,
or whether to give the baby soothing-syrup."
After some interchange concerning his father
and younger sister, he said, "I want to write
them an Easter greeting." So we got a fresh
roll of paper, and he wrote a brief but tender
letter, which was sent to them that night.
"Which one of us will be best able to do
this?" Mrs. Wylie asked.
". . . The time will come when this sort of
thing is unnecessary. We can talk without
material aid. . . . We never know when the
power is going to develop. It's much like an
electric current. You never know it's there [164]
until you feel it—until your signal comes over
the wire. . . . Try it out, all of you. We know
no more about who can do it than you do,
except in cases of extraordinary power." Some
time afterward, however, he warned them of
the dangers of attempting to handle this force,
intimating that great conservation of energy
in other directions should accompany the
endeavor.
His mother spoke of his being happy, and he
returned: "Perfectly happy now, thank you.
It's the eternal thing, really started. I hate
to have this party break up, but anyhow it
isn't for long. I've been away longer, when I
lived there, than I shall be now, and we are
all of us as sure of the next meeting, and the
next good time, as we were then."
"He knows it is ending, and we must go
to our trains," Mrs. Gaylord said.
"Not ending at all. Beginning! Hooray!"
On that triumphant note they took their
departure, Mrs. Gaylord westward bound, the
Wylies to New England; but, owing to a de-
fective timepiece, both missed their trains.
Within an hour, Mrs. Wylie telephoned me
that her mother had caught—by the narrow-
est margin—a later train, hoping to secure
sleeping-accommodation after leaving, a du-
bious venture in these days of diminished ser- [165]
vice and crowded trains. We arranged to
dine and spend the evening together.
Afterward, it occurred to me that Frederick
might prefer to be with his mother that night,
and I asked Mary K. about it.
"Frederick has engaged his mother in
(O) . . ."
"What does that mean now?" I interrupted.
"Bliss?"
"Yes . . . and will come here to-night to
see the others."
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