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Title: Poems from the Inner Life

Author: Lizzie Doten

Release Date: February 15, 2018 [EBook #56575]

Language: English

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{i}

P O E M S
FROM

T H E   I N N E R   L I F E.

BY

L I Z Z I E   D O T E N.

FOURTEENTH EDITION.

BOSTON:
COLBY & RICH, PUBLISHERS,
9 Montgomery Place.

{ii}
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863 by
E L I Z A B E T H   D O T E N,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts

ELECTROTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
4 SPRING LANE. {iii}

CONTENTS.

{v}

A WORD TO THE WORLD.

In presenting this volume to the public, I trust that I may be allowed, without incurring the charge of egotism, to say somewhat concerning my spiritual experience, and the manner in which these poems were originated. I am, in a measure, under the necessity of doing this, lest some over-anxious friend, or would-be critic, should undertake the work for me, and thereby place me, either unconsciously or intentionally, in a false position before the public.

By the advice of those invisible intelligences, whose presence and power I freely acknowledge, seconded by my own judgment, I have given to this work the title of “Poems from{vi} the Inner Life;” for, aside from the external phenomena of Modern Spiritualism,—which, compared to the great principles underlying them, are but mere froth and foam on the ocean of Truth,—I have realized that in the mysterious depths of the Inner Life, all souls can hold communion with those invisible beings, who are our companions both in Time and Eternity. My vision has been dim and indistinct, my hearing confused by the jarring discords of earthly existence, and my utterances of a wisdom, higher than my own, impeded by my selfish conceits and vain imaginings. Yet, notwithstanding all this, the solemn convictions of my spiritual surroundings, and the mutual ties of interest still existing between souls, “whether in the body or out of the body,” have been indelibly impressed upon me. From such experiences I have learned—in a sense hitherto unknown—that “the kingdom of Heaven is within me.” I know that many sincere and earnest souls will decide at once, in{vii} the integrity of their well-trained intellects, that this claim to an intercourse with the invisible world is an extravagant assumption, and has no foundation in truth. To such I would say, I shall make no effort to persuade your reason and judgment. I only offer to you as a suggestion, that which has been realized by me in my spiritual experience, and has become to me an abiding truth, full of strength for the present, and hope for the future. When your souls sincerely hunger after such a revelation, you will seek for it, and according to your need, you will be filled therewith. Until then, you and I, regarding things from a different point of view, must inevitably understand them differently. There are various cups which Humanity must drink of, and “baptisms which it must be baptized with,” and this manifestation of Truth, of which I am but one of the humble representatives, has laid its controlling hand upon me; for what purpose, in the mysterious results which lie concealed in the future, I cannot tell—I only know that it is so.{viii}

Looking back upon my experience, I cannot doubt that I—with many others—was destined to this phase of development, and designed for this peculiar work, before I knew conscious being. My brain was fashioned, and my nervous system finely strung, so that I should inevitably catch the thrill of the innumerable voices resounding through the universe, and translate their messages into human language, as coherently and clearly as my imperfections would allow. The early influences of my childhood, the experiences of later years, and more than all, that unutterable yearning for Beauty and Harmony, which I felt dimly conscious was somewhere in the universe, all tended to drive me back from the world, which would not and could not give me what I asked, to the revelations of my inner life,—to the “Heaven within me.” It was only through the cultivation of my spiritual nature that “spiritual things were to be discerned,” and the stern necessity of my life was the Teacher which finally educated me into the perception of Truth.{ix}

I turn back to the memories of my childhood—to that long course of trying experiences through which I passed, guided by strange and invisible influences; and that whole course of discipline has for me now a peculiar significance. Those who were near and dear to me, and who were most familiar with my habits of life, knew little of my intense spiritual experience. I was too much afraid of being ridiculed and misunderstood to dare give any expression to the strange and indefinable emotions within me. Such ones, however, may call to mind the child who often, through the long winter evenings, sat in profound silence by the fireside, with her head and face enveloped in her apron, to exclude, as far as possible, all external sight and sound. What I heard and saw then but dimly returns to me; but even then the revelations from the “Heaven within” had commenced, and succeeding years have so strengthened and confirmed my vision, that such scenes have become to me living truths and blessed realities. The{x} “Heaven” that “lay about me in my infancy” sent its rich glow through my childhood, and sheds its mystic brightness upon the pathway of my riper years.

Often, in the retirement of a small closet, I spent hours in total darkness, lying prostrate on the floor, beating the waves of the mysterious Infinite that rolled in a stormy flood over me, and with prayers and tears beseeching deliverance from my blindness and seeming unbelief. Then, when by my earnestness the spirit had become stronger than the flesh, I would gradually fall into a deep trance, from which I would arise strengthened and consoled by the assurance—from whence I could not tell—that somewhere in the future I should find all the life, and light, and freedom that my soul desired. The only evidence or knowledge which those around me received of such visitations was occasionally a poem—some of them written so early in life, that the childish chirography rendered them almost illegible. Because of{xi} these early productions, it has been asserted that my claim to any individual spirit-influence was either a falsehood or delusion. I will only say in reply, that there is no need of entering upon any argument on the subject. I claim both a general and particular inspiration. They do not, by any means, conflict; and what I do not receive from one, comes from the other. For the very reason that I have natural poetic tendencies, I attract influences of a kindred nature; and when I desire it, or they will to do so, they cast their characteristic inspirations upon me, and I give them utterance according to my ability. It is often as difficult to decide what is the action of one’s own intellect and what is spirit-influence, as it is in our ordinary associations to determine what is original with ourselves and what we have received from circumstances or contact with the mind of others. Yet, nevertheless, there are cases where the distinction is so evident that it is not to be doubted. Only one or two such well-attest{xii}ed instances is sufficient to establish the theory. I am not willing to ignore one faculty or power of my being for the sake of proving a favorite idea; and, on the contrary, I cannot conscientiously deny that, in the mysteries of my inner life, I have been acted upon decidedly and directly by disembodied intelligences, and this, sometimes, by an inspiration characteristic of the individual, or by a psychological influence similar to that whereby mind acts upon mind in the body. Under such influences I have not necessarily lost my individuality, or become wholly unconscious. I was, for the time being, like a harp in the hands of superior powers, and just in proportion as my entire nature was attuned to thrill responsive to their touch, did I give voice and expression to their unwritten music. They furnished the inspiration, but it was of necessity modified by the nature and character of the instrument upon which they played, for the most skilful musician cannot change the tone of a harp to the{xiii} sound of a trumpet, though he may give a characteristic expression of himself through either.

The presence and influence of these powers is to me no new or recent occurrence, although I may not have understood them in the same light as I do at present. They have formed a part of all my past life, and I can trace the evidence of spiritual assistance running like a golden thread through all my intellectual efforts. As I do not desire to practise any deception upon the public, but on the contrary only wish to declare the simple truth, I have published in this volume quite a number of poems, written several years previous to my appearance before the public as a medium or a speaker. Although these were mostly wrought out of my brain by the slow process of thought, yet for some of these, even, I can claim as direct and special an inspiration as for those delivered upon the platform. The first poem in this present work,—“The Prayer of the{xiv} Sorrowing,”—and that which immediately succeeds it,—“The Song of Truth,”—containing in itself an answer to the Prayer, were given to me under peculiar circumstances. The first was the language of my own soul, intensified by an occasion of great mental anguish. The second, following directly upon it, was an illumination of my entire being, when I seemed to have wept away the scales from my eyes, and “by the deep conflict of my soul in prayer,” to have broken the fetters of my mortality, and stepped forth into that freedom whereby I stood face to face with the ministering spirits, and heard that “Song of Truth” sounding through the universe. I have only known but few such visitations in my lifetime, but when they have come, I have felt that I have taken a free, deep breath of celestial air, and caught a glimpse of the Realities of Things. As an immediate consequence, my spirit has become braver and stronger, and long after my inward vision was closed, the cheering light of{xv} that blessed revelation has lingered in my heart.

Another poem, which bore evidence to me of an inspiration acting upon me, and external to myself, was the “Song of the North,” relating to the fate of Sir John Franklin and his men. I was desired to write an illustration for a plate, about to appear in the “Lily of the Valley,” an Annual published by J. M. Usher, of Cornhill, Boston. I endeavored to do so, but day after day passed by and my labor was in vain, for not one acceptable idea would suggest itself. The publisher sent for the article, but it was not in being. One day, however, I was seized with an indefinable uneasiness. I wandered up and down through the house and garden, till finally the idea of what I was to do became clearly defined; then, with my paper and pencil, I hastened to a quiet corner in the attic, where nearly all my poems had been written, and there I wrote the Song of the North—so rapidly, that it was scarce legi{xvi}ble, and I was obliged to copy it at once, lest I should lose the connection. The next day it seemed as foreign and strange to me as it would to any one who had never seen it. At the time this was written (in April, 1853) strong hopes were entertained of the discovery of Franklin and his men, together with their safe return; therefore I hesitated to make public that which seemed a decided affirmation to the contrary. Nevertheless, so strong were my convictions as to the truth of the poem, that I allowed it to be published. Later revelations concerning the fate of that brave adventurer and his companions gave to the poem somewhat of the character of a prophecy.

How far I have ever written, independent of these higher influences, I cannot say; I only know that all the poems under my own name have come from the deep places of my “Inner Life;” and in that self-same sacred retreat—which I have entered either by the intense concentration of all my intellectual powers, or a{xvii} passive surrender to the inspirations that moved upon me—I have held conscious communion with disembodied spirits. At such times it has been said I was “entranced;” and although that term does not exactly express my idea, perhaps it is the best which can yet be found in our language. The avenues of external sense, if not entirely closed, were at least disused, in order that the spiritual perceptions might be quickened to the required degree, and also that the world of causes, of which earth and its experiences are but the passing effects, might be disclosed to my vision. Certain it is that a physical change took place, affecting both my breathing and circulation, and my clairvoyant powers were so strengthened that I could dimly perceive external objects from the frontal portion of my brain, even with my eyes closed and bandaged; also, in that state, any excess of light was far more painful than under ordinary conditions. If the communications given through my instrumentality have been weak, erroneous, and{xviii} imperfect, it is no fault of my spirit-teachers, but arises rather from my own inability to understand or clearly express what was communicated to me.

In relation to the poems given under direct spirit-influence I would say, that there has been a mistake existing in many minds concerning them, which I take the present opportunity, as far as possible, to correct. They were not like lightning flashes, coming unheralded, and vanishing without leaving a trace behind. Several days before they were given, I would receive intimations of them. Oftentimes, and particularly under the influence of Poe, I would awake in the night from a deep slumber, and detached fragments of those poems would be floating through my mind, though in a few moments after they would vanish like a dream. I have sometimes awakened myself by repeating them aloud. I have been informed, also, by these influences, that all their poems are as complete and finished in spirit-life as they are in this, and the only reason why they cannot be repeat{xix}ed again and again is because of the difficulty of bringing a human organism always into the same state of exaltation—a state in which mediums readily receive inspiration, and render the poems with the least interference of their own intellect.

Among these spiritual poems will be found two purporting to come from Shakspeare. This influence seemed to overwhelm and crush me. I was afraid, and shrank from it. Only those two poems were given, and then the attempt was not repeated. I do not think that the poems in themselves come up to the productions of his master mind. They are only intimations of what might have been, if he had had a stronger and more effectual instrument upon which to pour his inspirations. I have no doubt that time will yet furnish one upon whom his mantle will fall; but I can only say that his power was mightier than I could bear. As I have regarded him spiritually, he seems to be a majestic intellect, but one that overawes{xx} rather than attracts me; and my conclusion has been, that while in the flesh, although he was of himself a mighty mind, yet still he spake wiser than he knew, being moved upon by those superior powers who choose men for their mouthpieces, and oblige them to speak startling words into the dull ear of the times. As all Nature is a manifestation of Deity, so all Humanity is a manifestation of mind,—differing, however, in degrees of development,—and one body serves as an instrument to effect the purposes of many minds. This is illustrated in the pursuits and employments of ordinary life, and has a far deeper significance when taken in connection with the invisible world.

The influence of Burns was pleasant, easy, and exhilarating, and left me in a cheerful mood. As a spirit, he seemed to be genial and kindly, with a clear perception and earnest love of simple truth, and at the same time a good-natured contempt for all shams, mere forms, and solemn mockeries. This was the way in which{xxi} he impressed me, and I felt much more benefited than burdened by his presence.

The first poem delivered by Poe, came to me far more unexpectedly than any other. By referring to the introductory remarks, copied from the “Springfield Republican,” it will be seen that the supposition is presented, that I, or “the one who wrote the poem,” must have been very familiar with the writings of Poe. As no one wrote the poem for me, consequently I am the only one who can answer to the supposition; and I can say, most conscientiously, that previous to that time I had never read, to my knowledge, any of his poems, save “The Raven,” and I had not seen that for several years. Indeed, I may well say in this connection, that I have read, comparatively speaking, very little poetry in the course of my life, and have never made the style of any author a study. The influence of Poe was neither pleasant nor easy. I can only describe it as a species of mental intoxication. I was tortured{xxii} with a feeling of great restlessness and irritability, and strange, incongruous images crowded my brain. Some were bewildering and dazzling as the sun, others dark and repulsive. Under his influence, particularly, I suffered the greatest exhaustion of vital energy, so much so, that after giving one of his poems, I was usually quite ill for several days.

But from his first poem to the last,—“The Farewell to Earth,”—was a marked, and rapid change. It would seem as though, in that higher life, where the opportunities for spiritual development far transcend those of earth, that by his quick and active perceptions he had seized upon the Divine Idea which was endeavoring to find expression through his life, both in Time and Eternity; and that from the moment this became apparent, with a volcanic energy, with the battle-strokes of a true hero, he had overthrown every obstacle, and hewn a way through{xxiii} every barrier that impeded the free outgrowth and manifestation of his diviner self. His “Farewell” is not a mere poem of the imagination. It is a record of facts. I can clearly perceive, as his spirit has been revealed to me, that there was a deep significance in his words, when he said,—

As he last appeared to me, he was full of majesty and strength, self-poised and calm, and it would seem by the expression of his countenance, radiant with victory, that the reward promised to “him that overcometh,” had been made his sure possession. Around his brow, as a spiritual emblem, was an olive-wreath, whose leaves glowed like fire. He stood upon the side of a mountain, which was white and glittering like crystal, and the full tide of inspiration to{xxiv} which he gave utterance could not be comprehended in human speech. That last “Farewell,” as it found expression through my weak lips, was but the faintest possible echo of that most musical and majestic lyric which thrilled the harp-strings of my being. In order to be fully realized and understood, the soul must be transported to that sphere of spiritual perceptions, where there is no audible “speech nor language,” and where the “voice is not heard.”

Obedient to the call of the Angels, he has “gone up higher” in the ways of Eternal Progress; and though, because of this change, he may no longer manifest himself as he was, yet doubtless as he is, he will yet be felt as a Presence and a Power in the “Heaven” of many a human heart. Upon earth he was a meteor light, flashing with a startling brilliancy across the intellectual firmament; but now he is a star of ever-increasing magnitude, which has at length{xxv} gravitated to its own place among the celestial spheres.

In saying thus much, I cannot so play the coward to my spiritual convictions as to offer the slightest apology for any ideas I may have advanced contrary to popular prejudices or time-honored opinions. O, thoughtful reader! if I have offended thee, say simply that these are my convictions and not yours, and do not fear for the result; for in whatsoever I purpose or perform, I “can do nothing against the Truth—only for it.” I do not indulge in the conceit that this little work has any important mission to perform, or that it will cause any commotion in the literary world. But I have felt, as one by one these poems have been wrought out—by general or special inspiration—from my “Inner Life,” that in this matter I had a work, simple though it might be, to do, and my soul was sorely “straitened till it was accomplished.{xxvi}”

As some of these poems, appearing at various times, have been severely criticized in the past, so I would say now, that if any there should be, who, through bigotry, or prejudice, or a desire to display their superior wisdom, should choose to criticize them in their present form—to such I shall make no answer. But to all those earnest and inquiring souls, who feel that in such experiences as I have described, or in the resources from which my soul has drawn its supply, there is aught that is attractive or desirable to them, I would say, “God speed you in your search for Truth!” At the same time let me assure you, that in the depths of your own Inner Life there is a fountain of inspiration and wisdom, which, if sought aright, will yield you more abundant satisfaction than any simple cup of the living water which I, or any other individual, can place to your lips. There are invisible teachers around you, the hem of{xxvii} whose garments I am unworthy to touch. “The words that they speak unto you—they are Spirit and they are Life.” “In order to know more you must be more.” Faith strikes its roots deep in the spirit, and often Intuition is a safer guide than Reason. When a man, by constant practice, has so quickened his spiritual perceptions that he can receive conscious impressions from his invisible attendants, he will never be without counsellors.

The Spirit-World is not so distant as it seems, and the veil of Materiality which hides it from our view, by hopeful and untiring aspiration can be rent in twain. We only need listen earnestly and attentively, and we shall soon learn to keep step in the grand march of Life to the music of{xxviii} the upper spheres. As a popular author has beautifully said, “Silence is vocal, if we listen well.” With a sublime accord, the great anthem of the Infinite “rolls and resounds” through the Universe, and whosoever will, can listen to that harmony, till all special and particular discords shall die out from the “Inner Life,” and the Heaven of the celestial intelligences shall blend with the “Heaven within,” in perfect unison!{1}

POEMS

FROM

THE INNER LIFE.

PART I.

{3}{2}

THE PRAYER OF THE SORROWING.

“And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven strengthening him.”

THE SONG OF TRUTH.

THE EMBARKATION.

“So they left that goodly and pleasant city, which had been their resting-place near twelve years. But they knew they were pilgrims, and looked not much to those things; but lifted their eyes to heaven, their dearest country, and quieted their spirits.”—E. Winslow.

KEPLER’S VISION.

“How grand the spectacle of a mind thus restless—thirsting with unquenchable appetite after beauty and harmony! Never was there a finer example of a spirit too vast to be satiated with the few truths around it, or one that more emphatically foreboded a necessary immortality.”—Prof. R. P. Nichol.

LOVE AND LATIN.

Amo—amare—amavi—amatum.[A]

THE FATE OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.

“In March, of 1854, says the Cleveland Herald, several months before the arrival of Dr. Rae, with his news of the probable death of the brave Sir John Franklin and his faithful comrades, we copied from the Lily of the Valley for 1854, a beautiful poem by Miss Lizzie Doten, in reference to these adventurers. The verses are touching and solemn as the sound of a passing bell, and appear almost prophetic of the news that afterwards came. ‘The Song of the North’ again becomes deeply interesting as connected with the thrilling account brought home by the Fox—the last vessel sent in search of the lost adventurers to the icy North, and the last that will now ever be sent on such an expedition.”—Buffalo Daily Republic.

SONG OF THE NORTH.

THE BURIAL OF WEBSTER.

THE PARTING OF SIGURD AND GERDA.

“He is a strong, proud man, such as a woman might, with pride, call her partner—‘if only—O! if he would but understand her nature, and allow it to be worth something.’”—See Miss Bremer’s “Brothers and Sisters.”

THE MEETING OF SIGURD AND GERDA.

“And beautiful now stood they there, man and woman; no longer pale; eye to eye, hand to hand, as equals,—as partners in the light of heaven.”—See Miss Bremer’s “Brothers and Sisters.”

POEMS

FROM

THE INNER LIFE.

PART II.

{40}

The succeeding poems were given under direct spirit influence before public audiences. For many of them I could not obtain the authorship, but for such as I could, the names are given.{41}

THE SPIRIT-CHILD.

BY “JENNIE.”

RECONCILIATION.

HOPE FOR THE SORROWING.

[A poem delivered at the funeral service of Mr. Henry L. Kingman, of North Bridgewater, Mass., November, 1862.]

COMPENSATION.

THE EAGLE OF FREEDOM.

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

MISTRESS GLENARE.

BY “MARIAN.”

LITTLE JOHNNY.

[A poem delivered by Miss Lizzie Doten at the close of a lecture in Springfield, May 10, and addressed to the parents of Little Johnny—Mr. and Mrs. Thomas A. Denison, of Chicopee, Mass.]

“BIRDIE’S” SPIRIT-SONG.

[At the conclusion of a lecture in Boston, the following poem was addressed to the chairman (Mr. L. B. Wilson). It purported to come from Anna Cora, Mr. Wilson’s only child, who passed to the spirit-world at the age of 12 years and 7 months. She was always called by the pet name “Birdie.”]

MY SPIRIT-HOME.

“We find the following beautiful stanzas in the Evening Courier, published in Portland, Me. They were composed in spirit-life by Miss A. W. Sprague, and spoken under spirit influence by Miss Lizzie Doten, at the close of her lecture in that city, on Sunday evening, March 22d. The lines are evidently from the spirit of Miss Sprague, who passed to the spirit-world last summer, from her home in Vermont, as there are allusions in it to incidents which took place during her illness, in Oswego, N. Y., about a year since. Allusion is also made to a poem written by her and published in the Banner, and also to another poem of hers, ‘I wait, I wait at the golden gate.’”—Banner of Light.

I STILL LIVE.

[Given under the inspiration of Miss A. W. Sprague, at the conclusion of a lecture in Philadelphia, October 25, 1863.]

[The two following poems were given under an influence purporting to be that of Shakspeare.]

LIFE.

LOVE.

[Shakspeare.]

FOR A’ THAT.

[The following poem was given under the inspiration of Robert Burns.]

WORDS O’ CHEER.

[Given under the inspiration of Robert Burns.]

RESURREXI.

“A Remarkable Poem.—The following striking poem was recited by Miss Lizzie Doten, a Spiritual trance-speaker, at the close of a recent lecture in Boston. She professed to give it impromptu, as far as she was concerned, and to speak under the direct influence of Edgar A. Poe. Whatever may be the truth about its production, the poem is, in several respects, a remarkable one. Miss Doten is, apparently, incapable of originating such a poem. If it was written for her by some one else, and merely committed to memory and recited by her, the poem is, nevertheless, wonderful as a reproduction of the singular music and alliteration of Poe’s style, and as manifesting the same intensity of feeling. Whoever wrote the poem must have been exceedingly familiar with Poe, and deeply in sympathy with his spirit. But if Miss Doten is honest, and the poem originated as she said it did, it is unquestionably the most astonishing thing that Spiritualism has produced. It does not follow, necessarily, in that case, that Poe himself made the poem,—although we are asked to believe a great many spiritual things on less cogent evidence,—but it is, in any view of it that may be taken, a very singular and mysterious production. There is, in the second verse, an allusion to a previous poem that purported to come from the spirit of Poe, which was published several years since, and attracted much attention, but the following poem is of a higher order, and much more like Poe than the other.”—Springfield Republican.

THE PROPHECY OF VALA.

[Given under the inspiration of Edgar A. Poe.]

The Prophecy of Vala is founded on the Scandinavian mythology. Odin, the great All Father, is the sovereign power of the universe; Thor, a lesser god, of whom it is said, “his mighty hammer smote thunder out of every thing.” Baldur was a son of Odin and Frigga. He was slain by Hörder, his blind brother, who was persuaded to the act by Loké, an evil spirit, corresponding to the Hebrew or Christian devil. The Valkyrien were the genii of the battle-field. The three Nornen were the Fates who watered the tree Yggdrasill, at whose roots it is said that a dragon was constantly gnawing. The Heimskringla was the circle of the universe. Vala was a seeress, or prophetess, who was summoned from the dead by Odin, to tell of the fate of Baldur; but on her appearance refused to do so, and to the astonishment of all, prophesied the death of all the sons of Odin at the day of Ragnaroc, which corresponds to the day of judgment, with the exception that it was also the day of reconstruction, or renewal of the world. The Prophecy of Vala, as given in the old Icelandic Edda, has been used with perfect freedom, to present the idea that Good, though apparently overcome of Evil, should ultimately triumph.—Explanation by Poe.

THE KINGDOM.

[Given under the inspiration of Poe.]

“And I saw no temple therein.”—Rev. 21:22.

THE CRADLE OR COFFIN.

[Given under the inspiration of Poe.]

THE STREETS OF BALTIMORE.

“Edgar A. Poe.—As the circumstances attendant upon the death of Poe are not generally known, it may be well to present the facts in connection with the following poem. Having occasion to pass through Baltimore a few days before his intended marriage with a lady of family and fortune in Virginia, Poe met with some of his old associates, who induced him to drink with them, although, as we are informed, he had entirely abstained for a year. This aroused the appetite which had so long slumbered within him, and in a short time he wandered forth into the street in a state of drunken delirium, and was found next morning literally dying from exposure. He was taken to a hospital, and on the 7th of October, 1849, at the age of thirty-eight, he closed his troubled life. The tortures and terrors of that night of suffering are vividly portrayed in the following poem, composed in spirit-life, and given by him through the mediumship of Miss Lizzie Doten, at the conclusion of her lecture in Baltimore, on Sunday evening, January 11, 1863.”—Banner of Light.

[As the following lecture is, in a certain sense, an introduction to Poe’s “Farewell to Earth,” it has been considered advisable to publish it in connection with the poem.]

THE MYSTERIES OF GODLINESS.

A LECTURE DELIVERED BY MISS LIZZIE DOTEN, AT CLINTON HALL, MONDAY, P. M., NOV. 2, 1863.

[Phonographically reported by Robert S. Moore.]

For several reasons, we must be as brief and comprehensive as possible in our remarks to-night. We do not intend to make any great intellectual effort, or to endeavor to astonish you with lofty strains of eloquence. We simply desire to present to you a few facts in connection with the poem about to be given, and we do this under the distinctive title of our discourse,—The Mysteries of Godliness.

As Godliness was a mystery in the past, so is it in the present. And why is it a mystery? Because men understand so little of the practice of Godliness.{135} Socrates was accustomed to say that “a man was always sufficiently eloquent in that which he clearly understood;” and thus a man will not look upon that as a mystery which is a part of his daily life, and with which he has become familiar through experience. But as it was in the days when Jesus lived and taught, or when Paul wrote his Epistle to Timothy, so Godliness, to the great mass of minds, remains a mystery. When Paul penned those words,—“Without controversy, great is the mystery of Godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, and received up into glory,”—he referred particularly to the life and teachings of Jesus. We, however, give to the passage a more comprehensive and extended application. If the “Mystery of Godliness” was made manifest in the life of Jesus because of his divinity, then do we say to the men of the present day, “Beloved, now are ye also sons of God.” And if “the Word was made flesh, and dwelt in the midst of men,” in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, so that same Word is incarnated, in greater or less degree, in every human being, be he rich or poor, black or{136} white, bond or free. In the same way, also, every one possessing a living soul is a manifestation of the mystery of Godliness. And when a man goes into his own nature, when he understands himself, when he reads the mysteries of his own being, when he looks away from his positive and earthly necessities up to his Divine possibilities, and sees how vast is the range, how infinite his capabilities, then he begins to understand something of the mysteries of Godliness. The Church has used this phraseology in the past, and knew not what it meant. She had “the form of Godliness,” and yet in word and deed, ay, in very thought, she “denied the power thereof.” Therefore it has been, in all past time, when there were some true and sincere souls in the Church, who made manifest, both by profession and practice, that in part at least, they comprehended the mystery of Godliness, which is the highest spirituality,—not Spiritualism,—and let it flow out into the beauty and harmony of perfect lives, the Church looked at them with a doubtful countenance. There was such a thing as being too holy, and the Church felt that such lives were a reproach to her self-righteousness and hypocrisy. She was not familiar with the man{137}ifestation of true Godliness, and consequently looked upon it as something that threatened her internal peace, and the success of her stereotyped plan of salvation. Therefore it was, that the voice of condemnation was raised against Michael De Molinos, Fenelon, Madame Guyon, and the whole host of Quietists and Reformers. By dim forecastings of the soul, and heroic struggling with flesh and sense, they had learned something of that holy mystery. It was that which could not be translated into human language. It could not be written in books, but it was that which was to be felt in the soul, and made manifest in the life. Godliness, true spirituality, cannot find expression in words, and so it must of necessity manifest its Divine beauty in the life.

But what is the idea we intend to convey when we use the term “Godliness”? Who is God, from whose name this word is simply a derivative? Godliness is the manifestation of his spirit and power in the soul of man, yet it is not God. Who, then, is He! We must look into the lexicon of every human heart to find our reply; for each one worships his own Ideal of Deity according to the {138}revelation of Truth which he receives, and to the capacity of his spirit to comprehend. The old philosophers sought for God in all the external world; they also went down into the mysteries of the spirit, as far as philosophy could sound its mighty depths, and yet they could not fathom his infinite nature. Although form and an external are necessary to man as a completion of his idea, yet when he reasons deeply concerning Deity, he cannot arrive at any satisfactory conclusions concerning his personality; he can only worship him as a principle, as a presence, and a power. Man, in his insignificance, can only look up to that superior Intelligence, which manifests itself throughout Nature, and worship either in the silence of the heart or in the inadequate articulations of human speech. The finite never did as yet compass and comprehend the Infinite. And before that majestic question which all the Ages have sought in vain to answer, before that mighty Oracle whose essence and nature have never been understood, man might as well remain dumb.

But where, you ask, shall man find his highest manifestation of Deity? How shall he know and understand God, so that he may attain unto the{139} true mystery of Godliness? The most of God that you can know is through your own souls. Your neighbor may speak unto you of the influences which flow in upon him from the great Soul of all; you can only listen, but cannot comprehend, unless there is something of the same spirit—of the same Divine life within you. But as you grow in goodness and spirituality, you comprehend more clearly the truth which Jesus, the greatest Medium the world ever knew, spoke to the ears of men, when he said, “God is a Spirit, and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” Therefore our definition of Godliness is spirituality, the influence of God felt in the soul and made manifest in the life of man. Just in proportion as this principle or power is realized in the hearts of men, they approach nearer unto Deity; they see more of his perfect life; they understand more of his ways; they leave speculations concerning his personality, and go away to those great generalizations whereby a man’s soul grows comprehensive and universal in its sympathies, and beholds the operations of the Infinite mind in all things. Thus, as Jesus was a manifestation of that Godliness or spirituality, the{140} self-same Divine power—the “Divine in the human” is manifest in every sentient being.

And here we approach a mighty truth, in whose majestic presence we feel inclined to lay aside our dusty sandals; for the place whereon we stand seems holy ground. While studying the mysteries of our own being, we find that necessarily we worship Everlasting Truth, in whatever form it may be presented. We go away from limitations, we go away from sects and creeds, from tottering institutions and the musty theologies of the past, and stand face to face with that fresher revelation of Deity in the heart. Then it is that man feels there are primary and fundamental truths lying at the basis of all philosophy and all religion, and only as he builds upon these broad foundations can he rear a glorious superstructure against which all the winds of changing theories, and the descending floods of mere speculative philosophy, will not be able to prevail. As man, like one initiated into the mysteries of Masonry, enters into this lodge of freedom, he begins to believe in himself. No man can have faith in God who has no faith in himself; that is the first step towards the Divine. You take that{141} step in the secret of the soul when you first acknowledge the “Divine in the human,” and confess its supporting influence.

For instance, two men may be standing on the borders of a precipice: below, there is the deep ravine; opposite, the other side of the mountain. They look far down and see rough, ragged points of rocks, and far, far below, the floods boiling white with foam. Over this abyss there is but one slight, frail bridge, and that is the trunk of a single tree. One man says, “Since we must pass over, I will precede. I know that I can go; I will go.” That man has faith in himself. He plants his feet firmly; he looks upward, and passes safely over. The second says, “I do not believe that I can go; I fear I shall fall.” He totters on, trembling, until he reaches the middle, and then cries out, “O Lord, Lord, help me!” So surely as he utters that cry, faithless in his own power, that man must fall.

And thus it is with human souls. They are standing here, in earthly life, gazing across the great abyss of the Future. It is dark and terrible below. They cannot clearly understand what fate awaits them, but they see the strait and narrow way before{142} them. If a man plants his feet firmly, and says, “I can, and I will,” it is the greatest possible acknowledgement of his faith in God. That man has stepped upon the threshold of the mysteries of Godliness; those mysteries will be made clearer and more apparent to his soul as he advances. But if, with craven soul, he says, “I know not what to do. I will wait for God’s providences, and let them come as they may; for of myself I can do nothing,”—if he trust to the vicarious atonement and an external Deity, and does nothing for his own salvation,—if, in making oral prayers to the Lord of the Universe, he forgets to “worship God in spirit,” and loses the vitalizing consciousness of the Divine within his own being, that man will assuredly err; he will continually go astray, for externally he has “the form of Godliness,” but practically and internally he denies “the power thereof.”

The world to-day is standing, in a certain sense, in that same position. Men are lifting up their hands, and crying, “Lord, Lord!” believing that they shall thus enter into the kingdom, while within their own beings there is a broad region of spiritual mysteries unknown and unexplored. Here{143} and there are instances where souls, driven by the action of their own importunate reason,—ay, we may say, by simple common sense,—have turned aside from creeds and theories, and have inquired earnestly of Nature and of the God within. It is refreshing at times to find such a soul: one that believes in the inspiration of the living Word, incarnated in all flesh, and made apparent throughout the universe,—not a Pantheist, believing in the manifestation of Deity in Nature alone, and in nothing higher, but realizing that the creation is the perceptible and external revelation of Deity; believing, with the German philosopher Fichte, that “there is a Divine Idea pervading this visible universe; which visible universe is indeed but its symbol and sensible manifestation, having in itself no meaning, or even true existence, independent of it. To the mass of men this Divine Idea lies hidden; yet, to discern it, to seize it, and live wholly in it, is the condition of all genuine virtue, knowledge, freedom, and the end, therefore, of all spiritual effort in every age.” He who lives and dwells in this Idea, enters into the mysteries of Godliness. All divine things are exceedingly sim{144}ple when they are known. It is because men are looking too high that they do not receive the living inspirations of the Truth; they turn away from themselves, and neglect to observe the manifestation of the spirit within their own being. They look upon their brother man or sister woman, and forget to exercise that broad charity which sees the spirit struggling with the flesh, or feebly breasting the wild waves of a tempestuous life, simply because it was thus constituted and surrounded. Men commonly judge from their own individual stand-point, instead of going away back to the Divinity of the inner life, and from its pure eyes looking into the heart of their erring brother or sister. He who simply criticizes the man, and judges him by the limitations of his own life, errs greatly. But he who looks beyond and behind him, sees that there are truths, and principles, and powers, and loving, earnest spirits, who are endeavoring to make manifest their inspiration through him; and although he may be changeable in his nature, although he may be erratic and wandering, it is only through the excess of power that cannot find an appropriate manifestation through such an organization.{145}

And such a one was he of whom we speak to-night,—that erratic genius, Edgar A. Poe. The mysteries of Godliness,—not of morality, as the world understands it,—confounded him. He could see more clearly than most of men. He looked out into the vast arcana of Nature, and his soul trembled before the majestic revelation. He knew not how to express, in any adequate form of speech, those great and mighty thoughts which rose and shone, like stars of wondrous beauty, in his soul; he knew not how to give his burning inspirations a manifestation through his life and being.

Edgar A. Poe was a medium. “A medium!” you say. “He himself would scorn the name; and we, who knew him, deny it.” But of what was he a medium? We do not confine ourselves to that definition of the term given by modern Spiritualists. He was a medium for the general inspiration which sets like a current of living fire through the universe. No special, no individual spirit wrought directly upon him, but he felt the might and majesty of occult forces from the world of causes, and trembled beneath their influence. He was a medium, not to disembodied spirits, only so far as{146} mind acts upon mind by the great law of unity, and in the same way was he psychologically affected by spirits in the body. He had a peculiarly sensitive and impressible nature, and in the mysteries of a spirituality which he did not seek to comprehend, he was easily wrought upon by the minds around him. Not but what he possessed self-will; not, indeed, that he lacked that firmness, whereby, when his soul was aroused, he could repel such influences. But his nature was so finely strung that every harsh word, every unkindly discord, grated and thrilled through his entire being, so that oftentimes it would seem as though he would beat down the wall of clay to give his spirit freedom, and to escape forever from the inharmonious influences of the world,—from the presence of those by whom he was so little understood.

It is difficult to comprehend such natures, for they are not common. But, alas for such! They have no choice but to be denizens of this world, and all the rough, sharp angles of rude Humanity seem continually to wound and irritate their sensitiveness, torturing them almost to madness. And yet there is a deep, strong under-current to their lives.{147} There is a beautiful spirituality which leads men to perceive that there is a power in the universe which balances all these inequalities and apparent inharmonies of human beings; and so, although they are set at variance with the world in certain portions of their nature, yet they are rewarded in others. Edgar A. Poe possessed the power of retiring from external things into the mysteries of the spirit. The greatest authors and musical composers the world ever knew, were those whose favorite pursuit so completely absorbed them that all external things were excluded, and they forgot, while their inspirations were upon them, what manner of men they were,—forgot the necessities of the flesh, and all the surroundings of their daily lives. Such men could understand our meaning, when we say that Edgar A. Poe lived much in his inner life, and there, as in the experience of the soul-rapt and inspired Boehmen, glorious revelations of the sublime and the beautiful were made manifest unto him. The common forms of human speech were inadequate for expression; therefore he seized upon the secret harmony of words, and strung them like flashing gems on the{148} golden line of his thought, weaving them into wild, strange metaphors, oftentimes so bewildering and dazzling, that the common mind could only feel the charm without comprehending the mystery. Like Ezekiel in his vision, he beheld the wondrous “living creatures, and the wheels,” and as they were represented, so did he describe them; but the mind of the reader must be in a similar state of illumination in order to clearly understand his meaning. There were seasons when he seemed to enter into a peaceful alliance with earth and all harmonious and beautiful things. Yet when his peculiarly sensitive nature was startled and aroused, he turned back to this Valhalla of his soul, and there he found another element of peace,—a strange, paradoxical peace, which comes through the herculean efforts of the soul to clamber up the rugged heights of destiny,—such peace as is given unto souls, when the angel, with a flaming sword, drives them from the Eden places of this world back into the mysteries of their being, in order that from their bloody sweat and bitter agony they may wring out great songs of moving inspiration, and reveal to mankind generally the{149} wondrous world of ideas and causes which lies beyond the limits of sense and the range of external observation.

All such are men of Destiny. They are compelled over the ways which they tread. The world looks upon them, and cannot understand them; men consider them as anomalies and strange inconsistencies; as abnormal manifestations of the spirit. Yet “for this cause came they into the world;” and as poets, and artists, and musical composers are born with the undeveloped elements of their genius within them, so particular souls, in close connection with the spiritual world, who are continually receiving direct impressions and revelations from the sphere of causes, are born such from their cradle; and thus the mystery of spirituality or godliness, as the world passes on generation after generation, is becoming more and more apparent in the lives and experiences of men. When we speak of spirituality, do not consider that we mean modern Spiritualism, as understood by the world, which has furnished any amount of sheep’s clothing to the wolves who desire to prey upon the lambs in the unguarded fold of Humanity. Neither do we mean{150} that inflated spirituality, which, in its zeal for reform, and contempt for ceremonies and limitations, rushes to extremes, and, deceiving itself, “uses its liberty as an occasion to the flesh.” But we do mean that living principle, which makes itself manifest in high-toned souls, whose sublime aspirations exalt the whole life above the common level of Humanity. It may come out as a fitful and glimmering light, but it shows that the Divine inspiration is there, and all men, when they perceive it, are ready to acknowledge it as genuine. Whatever is truly good, glorious, or divine, that which possesses in itself real merit and inspiration, cannot fail to find a responsive echo. And thus was it with the writings of Poe. When, from the glowing fire-crypts of his soul, he wrought out, with master strokes, his “Raven,” and gave it to the world, men felt that there was the ring of true genius. And, although it was the utterance of a nature at variance with its earthy surroundings, and tortured by its own sensibility, yet because of its gloomy grandeur and euphonious rhythm, the poem could not fail to be appreciated.

Such natures cannot live long in the flesh. They{151} are like two-edged swords, which wear upon the scabbard. There is ever an unseen hand upon the hilt, and finally, when the word of command is given, the sword is drawn, and becomes a most effective instrument in the hand of Everlasting Truth; then the individual nature that has so long battled the stormy elements of mortal life first perceives its advantages, and in the triumphant exultation which spirits always feel when freed from the fetters of mortality, it exclaims, “O Death! where is thy sting? O Grave! where is thy victory?” That diviner spirituality which was obscured by the flesh, which was crushed down by earthly circumstances, at length frees itself, and starts up in all its majesty and glory. But the mysterious growth and development of the spirit does not end here.

Perhaps in this connection we may present to you certain points from which you will feel obliged to dissent. They may seem like vague theories and wild speculations, yet they are truths which you are yet to realize in your eternal experience,—truths which this one of whom we speak will present to you in repetition to-night.{152}

There is a power in man which is closely connected with the things of external life, and draws inspiration from nature and the associations of his fellow-men. There is a power, also, in every human being superior to the spirit, and that is the soul, or innermost life—which is a divine and indestructible principle. When, therefore, the garment of flesh is laid aside,—when the mortal puts on its immortality,—the spirit goes forth precisely as it is. If it has been under the influence of ungoverned passion; if it has striven, through mad ambition, to attain to some cherished ideal, still does it feel that impetus, and its earthly longings and aspirations must pass away through a gradual transformation. You may dissent from this, but the change of the earthly garment does not effect a radical change in the spirit. And thus, as the spirit of Edgar A. Poe started forth on its celestial journey, all that bound him to earth still held a certain degree of influence over him. “Life is one eternal progress,” and only by progression and the gradual development of his nobler nature could he outlive that bondage. In many respects he had loved life and the things of earth. In{153} his intercourse with men he could not free himself from “the sins which did so easily beset him.” Neither could he restrain that sensitiveness and irritability of nature which so often destroyed the peace of his outer and inner life, and therefore he must necessarily outgrow that in higher conditions, and under more favorable influences. As he gradually attained to a sublimer consciousness of the beautiful and true, much of the wild and fitful fire peculiar to his genius departed from him, and there came in its stead a majestic flow of inspiration, solemn and grand as the music of the spheres. He saw that there were harmonious relations awaiting him; and as his soul was rich in sympathy and love, he aspired to those conditions, and he could not rest until he had attained unto them. The hinderance to his perfect peace was in his own spirit, and he realized it. It was for him the commencement of a mighty struggle,—

It would seem, then, as though conscious of his strength, he stood up like a spiritual giant, ex{154}claiming, “I am free! At last I am free!” There was a complete expansion of his being as he drank in the celestial air. He could not clearly understand the mysteries by which he was surrounded, but he knew that there was a latent energy in his soul, which, being more fully developed, would wrestle with these mighty problems until he made the solution his own. As year after year, marking great and important changes in human experience, rolled on, men who remembered Poe as he was, said, “Now he rests from life’s labor; now he sins and sorrows no more.”

But they did not know upon what a mighty battle-field he stood, neither could they understand through what fires of purification he was passing. But there he stood, contending bravely, not once losing faith in his soul’s possibilities, and pressing earnestly forward to the desired consummation. And in this he was not alone. O, no! There was with him a whole host of moral heroes, who, conscious of their power to win the victory, and quickened by the inspirations which they received from that higher state of being, were striving, by the excelsior movement of the soul, to attain to{155} those glory-encircled heights from whence they could look calmly down upon the plane of their earthly existence.

Thus it was that, as they gradually arose higher and higher in the scale of being, he and they could perceive that all sin, and sorrow, and evil ended at length in blessing, and that truths, which were dim and indistinct, which seemed aught but truths, came out into clear and shining light, and in their heavens were stars of the first magnitude. Thus, also, as he toiled on he became versed in the mysteries of the spirit, not in mere moralities—for true religion, godliness or spirituality, is the full, free, and complete development of man’s entire being, both in the intellectual and moral. Science and literature, art and religion, have been separated by mankind, because they did not understand the true mystery of Godliness.

But in that higher life one of the first lessons taught to the soul is, that all things have their uses. Even the low, animal passions, leading man into error, into sin, sensuality, and evil, will thereby teach him lessons of wisdom; will teach him to avoid the false and the untrue, and also that there{156} were rocks and quicksands upon which his bark had almost foundered, and which in the future he must avoid. Whether it be these lower passions, or the intellectual and moral, still each must have its own appropriate manifestation.

And as all these capacities for growth and perception belong not to the body but to the spirit, so the spirit, sweeping away into the great Eternity, bears up all these powers of its wondrous mechanism with it, and the vision of Ezekiel is realized; for “the living creature being lifted up, the wheels are lifted up also.”

Each organ of the brain has its own magnetic circle, touching the one upon another like the mechanism of a watch, and all governed by the main-spring, which is the internal consciousness of man, the central power of his being. This order in the change from the mortal to the immortal is not lost, but finds a more harmonious surrounding. Thus, when the spirit has ascended, with its increased power, with its superior opportunities for observation and investigation of all the truths of the universe, it learns this most important truth,—that not in one direction, but in all, the spirit shall find its most free and perfect development.{157}

Thus having become familiar with the conditions of the higher life, the one of whom we speak realized that it was not in the poetic element of his being alone that he was to find inspiration, not in smooth flowing numbers or cunning arrangements of human speech, but in the grand harmony of the living whole—the perfect accord of his entire being. It was necessary, in passing forth from the flesh, that he should learn this simple lesson. He has endeavored by all the powers of his nature to make its application; and he has succeeded. This night he gives his “Farewell to Earth.” Not that he is to be divided forever in his interest from Humanity, but, no longer incited by restlessness or ambition, to express in rhythmic numbers the fiery thought within, no longer drawn by the sordid interests of this earthly life, he can gaze down upon this lower world and influence the minds of men, and still be above them. He can still minister, as an Everlasting Truth and living power, to the needs of Humanity; but as Poe, the individual, he is willing to be forgotten. His personality, as far as human recognition is concerned, can end here. He cares not that “this poor, paltry me should be spun{158} out into Infinity.” He says: “Let my soul speak, which is the Divine Power. I have realized in myself the mysteries of Godliness, and know now that I too am Divine. I have merged and lost my will in the Great Will of the universe. I know now what heaven is; it is beauty, perfection, harmony. I would live forever in that celestial air, and draw in the vitalizing influences of truth. I do not desire to go down to the lowly homes of earth, nor to mingle with men in their contentions and selfish interests. I know that there is a Power guarding and guiding all things, and I can trust those whom I have loved, or those for whom I have cared, in that Almighty Hand. Whatever mysterious manifestation of wisdom on the part of Divine Providence comes to Humanity, I can say now, ‘It is well! Let the will of that Power be done!’ I have then no work to perform for you. I have only to carry with me through the vast Eternity an open nature, that I may receive truths, and, in passing onward, transmit them to those who are to follow after me.”

Thus it is with all great and earnest souls. “The mystery of Godliness,” or true spirituality, as{159} an impelling and inspiring power, is behind them, making itself manifest through their being. It also stands before them, beckoning them on the way. It may be they have natures of steel and fire, and that a thought electric strikes upon the heart, and sits, a mania, on the brain. But still they feel that power impelling and persuading, and finally when they perceive that the grand current of human events is tending towards the great ocean of Infinite Truth, they are willing to let their own peculiarities and characteristic tendencies also flow on in the great stream, and so harmony is at length established, not only with themselves but all.

The lesson of Poe’s life, in itself, was worth much to Humanity. In coming time, others besides ourselves will dissect and analyze his peculiar nature, and present it, even as we have, to men, as an instance of that Spirit which was “made manifest in the flesh, which was seen of angels, was preached by inspired lips to Humanity, believed on in the world, and received up into glory.” Great, indeed, is the mystery of Godliness! great in the light of the human lives that come and go upon the broad arena of earthly existence. Great, also, is that mystery as{160} made manifest in those spirits who go forth from the flesh, and feeling the Divine inspiration stirring within them, seek for life,—Eternal Life,—in order that they may grow and expand to the fulness of their spiritual being, having within themselves a quenchless thirst for the harmonious and the beautiful. They are true to the great law of spirit, for whether in Time or Eternity, it may still be said that,—

Thus was it with Poe. Not clearly discerning{161} the purposes of life, he did not bend his efforts to one high and holy aim. His nature was wandering and erratic. This is also his present view of his earthly life. “He has cast away his laurel wreath of fame,” and now upon his brow, burning brightly with the glories of the celestial sphere, is an olive wreath of peace. He stands now as a majestic soul, self-poised and harmonious. Yet he has not lost aught of the brilliancy and fire of his genius.

Edgar A. Poe was mighty in the flesh; and in the spirit he is mightier far. His manifestations will yet come to mankind, but not as from the individual. They will speak to your souls; they will breathe in words of fire from the lips of Humanity, as inspirations from the Higher Life, rather than as the utterances of him who was once known among men as Edgar A. Poe.

FAREWELL TO EARTH.

[The following poem purports to be Poe’s final farewell to Earth. It was given in the city of New York, Monday evening, Nov. 2, 1863.]

I.

II.

III.

IV.

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