Spirit Communications from Hermes, the Egyptian I

When Hafed, Prince of Persia, began his spirit communications, he intended to give us the letters of his young Egyptian friend, who succeeded his aged master in the office of Chief Priest. Instead of doing so, Hafed resolves to allow him to speak through the Medium. Hermes, the Egyptian, was a bold preacher of the truth, first as imparted to him by Issha, the Old Egyptian Priest, and afterwards by Jesus, whom he followed as a disciple. Hermes was brought up under a system of priestcraft that did not shrink from robbing the miserable and ignorant poor of the land, aided in this by their practice of necromancy. Against this system the young reformer and his co-workers had struck a vigorous blow, dealing out to the people the true spiritual bread, and seeking to educate them in a knowledge of their rights as men. In his communications, he gives us some account of that which he saw and heard as a disciple of Jesus. Hermes' communications form a fitting conclusion to that which Hafed has already given us of the life of Jesus, the Great Prince. 

Hafed gives us a translation of a portion of Hermes' letter addressed to him after Issha's death. Hermes finds his aged father a corpse, and ready for the process, which, according to the customs of Egypt, was adopted for the preservations of the body, so that, even after the lapse of many years, the Spirit might be able to take up its abode in the old tenement. But such notions had long passed away from Hermes' mind—the light of Heaven had banished all the old ideas concerning the destiny of the old body.

The following is a copy of the translation referred to, given in five pieces, at various sittings, in direct writing—

Dear Father—I write this epistle to you from my lonely cell, with no one to speak to now. He which was more to me than father has gone to his home in the heavens, where he has often wished to be. The Divine image has gone and left the mortal with me. He called me to him just before he left. He said—My son, I am going to leave you. See that you walk as I have taught you. I will always be with you. See that you teach the people the way they ought to serve the true God. He told me he would let you know that he was gone; and when he was done speaking he fell back, and the spirit was gone. Having seen little of the thing they call death, I did not know the spirit had fled; so I spoke thus —Father, may I never disgrace the priesthood! I cried, I will teach the people the true God, and Great Jehovah will help me, and the Holy Spirit, and thou, most holy Father, will help me.

But all is darkness—dark as midnight hour, the pestilence silently invades some sleeping city. Death, on expanded wings, hovers round the walls, breathing poisonous vapours—Death, with hellish eyes and countenance terrible—spreads far and wide his baneful influence.

This is a night of torments and of groans, of heart-rending sighs and gushing sorrow, wringing my hands. Like a bride bewails the partner of her soul, or like the distracted mother who is deprived of her little fondlings, curses the day of her birth and theirs. From the clouds that enveloped the tops of the mighty Pyramids, thus the red bolt of the heavens, falling on mountains of sulphur the ready materials, and the subterranean thunders roar through the caverns of my soul. O Gods of our Fathers, wake him from that sleep of death.

When I had [done] speaking, I looked, and that which was the man I had known was now like a statue of marble. The light had left the eye; the lips were sealed—no sound came from them. I stood like one struck dumb, for a time. At last I got vent to my overflowing soul, and burst forth, pouring out my blessings and curses in one breath. I began thus—Father, you have taught me to look to a future.

That grave and awful countenance is expressive of the modest virtue which consists not in words but practice—While conscious that he was known to God, though sensible that he should be disregarded by man.

So stupified is he by sorrow that Hermes forgets all he has received from his departed father's lips. He does not think that even then he is the possessor of a more glorious body and an inhabitant of the land of bliss. Hermes casts his eyes on the cold, outstretched form, on the still, placid, marble-like countenance of his beloved teacher—his more than father—and in anguish, asks—

Where, O where art thou, my friend, my guide?—why hast thou left me thus in darkness and in doubt? and he gives vent to his sorrow in bitter lamentation. He falls prostrate on the pavement. Where was the god-like man he could have worshipped?—So noble-hearted, so holy in all his ways! And now, as he looks on those well-known features, the eye that once shone so bright is dim; the lips whence issued words of wisdom and love, are cold and silent—no smiles to welcome him now—all still and immovable as the solid rock. It is then, in his deep anguish, he curses his own existence, even the parents that have given him birth, tearing his hair in his madness. Blaspheming, he swears, by all the fiends of Hell, there is no God—no future existence—nothing! 

If there be a God, why am I thus bereft of all I hold dear?

He raves madly against the God of Heaven. Suddenly, he is amazed and, as he looks up, there, within a lambent flame, stands one in human form.

We take up Hermes' narrative of his experiences in the body subsequent to the departure of his venerable predecessor, Issha, the Chief Priest—

"O God!" I cried, "he has come back to me." I knelt down on the marble slabs, and, awe-struck, bent my head to the floor. Then heard I the gentle accents of that voice I knew so well. I looked up. 'Twas indeed my beloved father and guide. I could have touched him; but the form was so gloriously bright, I was afraid. He was clothed in robes transparent as crystal; while his locks were far more beautiful than those of the poor body lying beside me. My eyes were dazzled by the bright, the glorious vision, and I could not continue to look on him. At length he spoke—"O man, know thyself. Thou art destined to live from age to age, even as He liveth in whose image thou art created. Why hast thou called me back from my blest abode? Why these outbursts of rebellious complaint? Did I not counsel thee, while I was yet with thee in body, that I would, though taken away, be ever near thee in spirit? Did I not give thee sufficient evidence to banish thy doubts—to convince thee that there is no death? Put away, then, from thee thy dismal and dark forebodings, and rouse thee to present duty. Have I not told thee that thou wouldst yet be fitted to stand up in this land of Egypt for the true light, and rid her of her idols, casting aside those foolish mummeries by which the people are blinded; and that the poor of the land would receive bread from thee?"

His words came back to my mind. I did not know, neither did I care, whether I saw him by the mental or the bodily eye; I knew he lived, and that I listened once more to his gracious voice, and that through life he would still guide me into truth, and guard me from evil, even until I should join him in the mansions of bliss. Why, too, should I have forgotten that which he had so often told me, that thousands of angels are ever watching over and guiding the frail sons of men! He appeared to my astonished eyes so glorious and god-like that in the wonder and awe that took possession of me, I would have worshipped him. But, divining my thoughts, he said, "See thou do it not. Though my body there is going to dust, and though now clothed in my heavenly body, I am still the same. Hast thou so soon forgotten the lessons I taught thee? Turn to the old writings that have often been the subject of our meditation and study, and consider what they teach, that though man's body goes to the dust whence it comes, the Spirit rises into the great World of Spirits—goeth back to God its Creator. Go forth, my son, to the people of Egypt—the down-trodden and benighted people—and in the strength of God and this great truth, and which by my appearance to thee is thus confirmed, proclaim it to them; that so they may be led to consider what they are, children of the Great God, who dwelleth not in temples of stone, the work of men's hands, but who loveth to make His dwelling place in the hearts of the sons of men, whose throne is in the highest heavens, and whose sceptre stretcheth over all the worlds which He hath made, and which He sustaineth in love and wisdom. Teach them concerning that heavenly land, only to be gained by those of holy life; and that to ensure a happy life beyond, they must live as God would have them live, fearing Him and loving one another. Teach them that, in order to be free from the oppression and tyranny of man, they must seek for the wisdom and knowledge of the true God—having which, they will be free indeed. I have seen my friend and brother, Hafed. Write to him, and he will show thee that all I have spoken of is truth, and worthy of thy deepest consideration. I am here in person—it is I, thy friend—my own true self that now addresseth thee. Therefore, my son, cast aside thy sorrow, and grieve no longer that thou canst not see me in my old worn-out casket; rather rejoice that I have been permitted to come unto thee in my glorious Spirit-body, to lead thy mind back to the truth, which thou hadst almost forgotten. Arouse thee! in justice to thyself and to thy poor fellowmen, go forth to the great work; and may the day soon come when light and love and liberty shall spring up, never more to be cut down, over all the Earth. Go, my son, and be comforted in the great truth of man's immortality."

So ended his address. While the words fell from his lips, the thought came to me, "Am I dreaming? Is it, indeed, my loved friend and father that stands before me?" I rubbed my eyes, and still he was there. The beautiful lips smiled on me; the eyes sparkled as before when he stood at the great altar. How much I felt tempted to prostrate myself in worship before him! His hands, too, as he laid them gently on my head, looked as real as those once did that were even then lying cold and stiff in death, but as they touched me a thrill went over all my body to my finger ends.

When morning broke, I felt myself a new creature. I went forth, strong in the resolution to expend all my strength of mind and body in behalf of the truth, and never cease my work until I was called home by the Great Spirit to mingle with the blest above.

Hafed, Prince of Persia—His Experiences in Earth Life and Spirit Life; being spirit communications received through Mr David Duguid, the Glasgow trance-painting medium; with an appendix, containing communications from the spirit artists, Ruisdal and Steen. Illustrated by facsimiles of various drawings and writings, the direct work of the spirits; David Duguid, Hay Nisbet; James Burns, London, 1876