“I can tell you the past;”—he said—“And I can read your present;—and from the two portions of your life I can calculate the last addition, the Future,—but my calculation may be wrong. I mean wrong as regards coming events;—past and present I can never be mistaken in, because there exists a natural law, by which you are bound to reveal yourself to me.”
The Reverend Francis Anstruther moved uneasily in his chair, but managed to convey into his countenance the proper expression of politely incredulous astonishment.
“This natural law,” went on El-Râmi, laying one hand on the celestial globe as he spoke, “has been in existence ever since man’s formation, but we are only just now beginning to discover it, or rather re-discover it, since it was tolerably well known to the priests of ancient Egypt. You see this sphere;”—and he moved the celestial globe round slowly—“It represents the pattern of the heavens according to our solar system. Now a Persian poet of old time declared in a few wild verses that solar systems, taken in a mass, could be considered the brain of heaven, the stars being the thinking, moving molecules of that brain. A sweeping idea,—what your line-and-pattern critics would call ‘far-fetched’—but it will serve me just now for an illustration of my meaning. Taking this ‘brain of heaven’ by way of simile then, it is evident we—we human pigmies—are, notwithstanding our ridiculous littleness and inferiority, able to penetrate correctly enough into some of the mysteries of that star-teeming intelligence,—we can even take patterns of its shifting molecules”—and again he touched the globe beside him,—“we can watch its modes of thought—and calculate when certain planets will rise and set,—and when we cannot see its action, we can get its vibrations of light, to the marvellous extent of being able to photograph the moon of Neptune, which remains invisible to the eye even with the assistance of a telescope. You wonder what all this tends to?—well,—I speak of vibrations of light from the brain of heaven,—vibrations which we know are existent; and which we prove by means of photography; and, because we see the results in black and white, we believe in them. But there are other vibrations in the Universe, which cannot be photographed,—the vibrations of the human brain, which, like those emanating from the ‘brain of heaven,’ are full of light and fire, and convey distinct impressions or patterns of thought. People speak of ‘thought-transference’ from one subject to another as if it were a remarkable coincidence,—whereas you cannot put a stop to the transference of thought,—it is in the very air, like the germs of disease or health,—and nothing can do away with it.”
“I do not exactly understand”—murmured the clergyman with some bewilderment.
“Ah, you want a practical demonstration of what seems a merely abstract theory? Nothing easier!”—and moving again to the table he sat down, fixing his dark eyes keenly on his visitor—“As the stars pattern heaven in various shapes, like the constellation Lyra, or Orion, so you have patterned your brain with pictures or photographs of your past and your present. All your past, every scene of it, is impressed in the curious little brain-particles that lie in their various cells,—you have forgotten some incidents, but they would all come back to you if you were drowning or being hanged;—because suffocation or strangulation would force up every infinitesimal atom of brain-matter into extraordinary prominence for the moment. Naturally your present existence is the most vivid picture with you, therefore perhaps you would like me to begin with that?”
“Begin?—how?” asked Mr. Anstruther, still in amazement.
“Why,—let me take the impression of your brain upon my own. It is quite simple, and quite scientific. Consider yourself the photographic negative, and me the sensitive paper to receive the impression! I may offer you a blurred picture, but I do not think it likely. Only if you wish to hide anything from me I would advise you not to try the experiment.”
“Really, sir,—this is very extraordinary!—I am at a loss to comprehend——”
“Oh, I will make it quite plain to you,” said El-Râmi with a slight smile—“There is no witchcraft in it—no trickery,—nothing but the commonest A B C science. Will you try?—or would you prefer to leave the matter alone? My demonstration will not convince you of a ‘future state,’ which was the subject you first spoke to me about,—it will only prove to you the physiological phenomena surrounding your present constitution and condition.”
The Reverend Francis Anstruther hesitated. He was a little startled by the cold and convincing manner with which El-Râmi spoke,—at the same time he did not believe in his words, and his own incredulity inclined him to see the “experiment,” whatever it was. It would be all hocus-pocus, of course,—this Oriental fellow could know nothing about him,—he had never seen him before, and must therefore be totally ignorant of his private life and affairs. Considering this for a moment, he looked up and smiled.