Faenris Then there is a bustle. Gloves, therefore, have new uses. More than that, her blood under the microscope will not show the same crystalline forms after the birth of the mixed kove as it did before. How eulls was abstracted by the Essenes, Gnostics and Batiniyeh, you all know. Some of us have not just such husbands as we wish.
|Published (Last):||17 May 2014|
|PDF File Size:||5.9 Mb|
|ePub File Size:||7.53 Mb|
|Price:||Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]|
PART I. Reader, mine, I am about to treat herein the grandest subject that ever engaged or challenged human thought. In doing so it is likely that I may repeat some things elsewhere, by myself or others, said before; but even if so, I have struck upon many things now given to the race for the first time.
A vast amount of "physiological" chaff is current in the world, originating in the pulpy brains of certain people with "M. D" after their names; folks who eke out a good living by putting medicines, of which they know little, into bodies whereof they know less. A still larger amount of "chaff" labelled "philosophy" is afloat, generated for the most part in the angular heads of people, whom a chronic prostatitis or ovarian fever has so deranged that they really imagine themselves philosophers,—being only shams,—who propose to revolutionize the world, especially the domain of Marriage-land, by inculcating pudacious sophistries, better calculated to kill than to cure the victims, on either side.
One thing is certain: Light is needed; and this work originally intended to be called by a different title, but which intent was abandoned, owing to the vastly larger scope of the completed and rewritten volume is meant to afford exactly what is required; and I. What a tremendous deal of suffering, horror, crime, wretchedness and despair there is in this beautiful, but badly misused world of ours!
Now, whoever supposes that the ignorance alluded to is confined solely to the masses,—sometimes spellable as "them asses," according to Carlyle ,—or that the sum total of non-knowledge must be looked for among the unread, unlettered and unwashed crowds that throng the great highways of the world, and whose struggles for life, and clamors for bread, occupy most of their time and attention,—will find him or herself most wofully mistake; for a far less dense and conglobate ignorance upon matters of vital import to every human being exists among the people—the rude crowd who jostle each other everywhere, and which is the plastic material that the brainful few mould into voters, hero-worshippers, or send to fight their battles against each other, armed with ploughs or rifles, pitchforks or bayonets, cannons or spades—than is to be found in circles making very lofty pretensions, not only to knowledge, but to morality also, from its geologic base to its astronomic summit.
For gross and culpable non-knowledge, especially upon all the vital points that cluster round the one word "sex," you must look, not amidst the untaught hosts, the democratic underlayer of society, but right squarely among the so-called "learned," professional, much-boasted, highly-cultured upper-strata, especially in those centres of population whence newspapers by myriads are scattered broadcast over all the lands.
Were not this a painful fact, such classes of "reformers" as now march over the world were an utter impossibility. They are an unhealthy set, the fungi of a false civilization, regnant for a time, but certain to disappear with the advent of common sense among the people as a general thing.
Sex is a thing of soul; most people think it but a mere matter of earthly form and physical structure. True, there are some unsexed souls; some no sex at all, and others still claiming one gender, and manifesting its exact opposite. In some sense this matter has been, and is, the subject of thought, but only in its outer phases, or its grosser aspects; seldom in its higher ones, and never, until now, in any of its loftier and mystical bearings.
Books by ship-loads on one or two, and always either its physiological or sentimental sides of the subject, have been put forth by ambitious M. Oh, that literature, foul, disgusting beyond belief! No punishment can be too severe for the disseminators of the latter; no contempt too great for the authors of the former. Not one of the very many respectable people, including fifty French, a score of English, about as many Americans, and a few German authors, who have stained reams of good white paper, and spilled gallons of ink in writing anent the sublime subject of sex, have taken the trouble to go one inch below the surface; but have been content to copy each other, and repeat the same old worn-out story,—else concealed a few good ideas in barrels of words.
They have taken man and woman, shown us their anatomy; explained something of physical gender; said something about function and periods, and there left us, because they knew nothing further themselves.
But the man alluded to in the Bible never was guilty of that sin at all. Albeit his crime was equally bad, equally disastrous and hateful. In these days it is politely called "conjugal fraud," and in plain terms consists of the nuptive union to the orgasmal climax, which was allowed to occur only in a manner never intended by the Infinite God.
Millions do the accursed thing to-day that they may be childless, as indeed they deserve to be; for he who does that heinous wrong commits a quadruple crime, against his wife, himself, nature and God; to say nothing about the right of all souls to be incarnated by the act of man.
Now the doctors truly say that the sin solitary, and the fraud conjugal are both bad; but fail to give us even half the reasons why. Here let me make a point for the doctors, and all others besides. But note the tremendous difference in the results that follow in each of the four cases. In the second case, resulting from spermatic plethora, a relief follows, but leaves a weakness after it, requiring phosphoric food to recuperate from. In the third case the whole being is shocked, and the man feels himself to be contemptible and mean; and so he is.
Now why? Remember, we suppose, what is true, that weights and measures are the same in all four instances; that the exact amount of fluid life is lost: yet one launches its victim into steep-down gulfs of remorseful, mental torture, and the others do not. The physiologists have not answered that question. I will. That much the doctors were aware of. But they did not know that those glands are the seat of all vaginal and uterine life; nor that trouble seals them up; Love only keeps them open.
When sealed there is no exudation of magnetic lymph, which must be present, else marital rites mean death to her sooner or later. Now another new thing for the doctors. I have just explained it. It is to collect, store up, and discharge the magnetic fluid of the body in liquid form. I hope this thought will be carefully studied and understood.
Now in the case of the solitaire there is but one force at work. The result is from imaginative and mechanical forces: not from electric, magnetic or spiritual ones; hence he draws upon his very soul itself; violates and disobeys the fundamental law of love, and that is why he pays the dreadful penalty. Love resides in the soul; the basic law of that soul he deliberately prostitutes, wherefore his soul, as well as his body, must and does suffer. I met the man.
No, I did not say that—it was my alter ego encountering myself! She was wondrously fair, and heedless as beautiful; with fashions to air and conquests to achieve; poor, sweet little lady! And as I pictured her beauty and bloom, I could but justify her vanity, and on that basis condone her apparent heartless coldness in never deigning to write to him, who was suffering daily deaths by reason of her cold silence—and—contempt.
And so I lay upon the lounge and quaffed the sweet, delicious milk, and I drought about the Woman and the Man; and, as I did so, I fell into a sort of magnetic trance and clairvoyance—a habit familiar, seeing that the power to do so was born with me; and by its means I have a thousand times been able to see afar off, and to glimpse things denied to mortal vision. On this occasion I fell into it from having incidentally cast my eyes upon a third class triune, or magic mirror, such as for years I have used expressly to induce the state of psycho-vision.
It hung over the table against the wall, where I had placed it after polishing it, preparatory to sending it to a lady in Brooklyn, N. Its power ranged to the aerial spaces above, and to the vaulted deeps below; and on its surface the dead could, and often did, cast cognizable pictures of themselves and surroundings then and then again.
On the morning alluded to, as I breathed upon it, a thick, heavy, black, portentous cloud obscured its face, followed by a silvery sheen, indicative of coming trouble, hatred, folly, error, succeeded by happiness and contentment; but I actually forgot all that, nor recalled it till after the approaching drama was ended,—a drama strange and weird, fraught with pain unutterable, inexpressible, almost unendurable; yet whose results or fruitage was as ripe pomegranates are to the thirsty pilgrims, or the cool, bubbling waters to the parched lips of the Arab on the burning sands of Sahara.
Little did I dream that the strange experience was full of true light to others than myself; yet such it is, and was; and with grateful heart I thank the Most Compassionate God, the Ineffable Lord, that I was found worthy to become the vessel for the conveyance of so grand a lesson to my brethren of the wide and wasteful world. Child, table, chairs, lounge—all were gone and unheeded, and on the face of that marvellous glass I beheld a scene which at the time, and for six weeks afterwards, I religiously believed was at that very instant being enacted far away, in, to the man in Toledo, dreadful reality.
The sequel—far along in this book—will show whether it was the shadow of an enacted fact, or a figment of fancy woven of mist, and conjured up out of the cellars of suspicion. I loved the man, at all events; hence what I saw froze my blood with horror, and made my nerves fairly tingle with excitement and pain. I saw the lady, whom the man loved so well, and for whom he yearned, and mourned, and wept bitter tears, revealed before the eyes of my soul.
She was just emerging from a dormitory, evidently, judging by appearances, both a dishonest and dishonored wife and woman.
I shuddered with mortal anguish; for I loved my friend, and that woman bore his name. Until that hour I and he had believed her to be pure as an angel from heaven; and now did I, through sympathy for him, suffer,—ay, the agonies of the nether hell. Presently you will see whether the vision was a lesson or a fact; and whether jealousy is, and is not, sometimes based on solid ground, sometimes empty air.
On the day I met the man; he had told me that she had asked him very singular questions: "Is it possible for a husband to discover if his wife goes astray during an absence, without the ordinary evidence that establishes such facts?
Can he find it out without seeing or hearing of it? Subsequently she had written to say that her yearnings were great, and she was dying from the mere fact of prolonged absence; yet within a week wrote that she was supremely happy, and longed for nothing. This was ground for suspecting her to be a truant wife, and my friend a deceived husband; and all the more in that she was thrown in contact with some very popular agitators of the marriage and fidelity questions,—on what I regarded as the wrong side.
I heard his love expressions, and her warm replies; but the most cruel thing of all was their combined laugh and "joke" they were playing on my friend, by making his slender purse bear the cost of their guiltful amours. He loved that woman as mothers love the babes God sends through wailing agony to their longing hearts.
This done, I went to a grocery hard by, to drink beer to drown out the agony felt for the man,—the detestation of the woman. So now, on my way to Grambrins Halle, I encountered my little friend, the German child, at play.
She strangely interested me; and I left the Halle with but one glass, where I had intended to drink at least a dozen. The child saved me! I had drawn her to me, and pressed her rosy, childish face to mine, inhaling the balmy aroma of her pure, fresh, joyous soul; and a portion of the roseate fire of her sweet lips had clung to mine.
I saw it, like a thin cloud of opalescence, waving gently to and fro, as I moved my head, or breathed. I began to study the meaning of a kiss. There are but few among the many who know the meaning of a kiss:—or that the soul, from its seat in the brain, is in telegraphic unity with the lips. It is but one of millions, this very day, transpiring in thousands of places the wide world over, and is the legitimate result of the wrong relations subsisting between the mated, or rather, mismated marriagees of the earth!
Love only can keep souls, and the bodies they wear, true and faithful! Where it does not mutually exist there can be, and is, no guaranty of fidelity. Wherefore, it is incumbent on you to face the facts; call to your aid the rare philosophy of common sense; struggle manfully against this dreadful, appalling, yet perfectly natural catastrophe; accept the situation; hush the throbbings of your tortured heart; ask God for strength to bear the heavy burden, and be wise.
If innocent, she is still guilty of a great folly: while your trouble and pain may really have no more solid foundation than vague and empty air. Oh, how my heart, for my friend, clung to that hope!
My soul to my soul went on: They twain, the far-off couple, are young; are adapted to each other: you my friend, of course are too old for her. You had no right to subject her to the terrible temptation of being away from your side for months together, in the midst of gay people, where everything appealed to and impressed her young heart and fancy, and made a wider gulf between herself and you. I know your heart is bleeding, that hot tears are streaming down your face, that your poor soul is sweltering amidst the tortuous flames of the fiercest hell of jealousy; yet why?
Be a man! If she has fallen, it is the fault of her husband, not altogether her own. She admires him, but probably loves this distant Adonis, and, tempted beyond her strength, she may have forgotten and neglected duty, at the urgence and call of love; the facts of which came rushing through the air to you and took form and shape through the vision of the seer.
Be magnanimous! Guilty, or not guilty, forget and forgive. Voluntarily free this simpleton from the chafing thrall that binds her to one whose purse, not person, is all on earth she cares for. Let her go at the call of affection, and, forsaking you and duty, yield her to the better and nobler law of love.
Free her, and they twain will likely wed. Hold her, and she is that nameless thing—a wedded harlot. My soul had, still as my friend, not myself, gotten thus far in its just reasonings when methought I heard a sweet and silvery voice say, "Behold! I put myself in his place, and for the first time in my life not only realized the luxury of forgiveness, but felt capable of even dying a lingering death that the woman so loved might be happy with him she so loved; and greater affection than that can no man show, in that he would lay down his life for a friend.
I talked with the husband; persuaded him to lay by the pistols and revenge. He did so, and ceased to be jealous from that hour, caring but little whether the vision was of actual fact or a delirious dream. And I beheld an ineffably pure, pearly-hued effulgence playing about her little head, undulating in billowy movement all about her infantile shoulders, streaming from her hair, glowing round her waist, and in loving wavelets all around.
I watched this with astonishment.
Eulis, the History of Love
EULIS! The History of Love
Eulis! the History of Love/Part 1: Affectional Alchemy