A Strange Story — Volume 06Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Science
A Strange Story — Volume 06
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
I had retired to my own room to answer some letters from anxious patients,
and having finished these I looked into my trunk for a Guide-Book to the
North, which I had brought with me. My hand came upon Margrave's wand,
and remembering that strange thrill which had passed through me when I
last handled it, I drew it forth, resolved to examine calmly if I could
detect the cause of the sensation. It was not now the time of night in
which the imagination is most liable to credulous impressions, nor was I
now in the anxious and jaded state of mind in which such impressions may
be the more readily conceived. The sun was slowly setting over the
delicious landscape; the air cool and serene; my thoughts
collected,--heart and conscience alike at peace. I took, then, the wand,
and adjusted it to the palm of the hand as I had done before. I felt the
slight touch of the delicate wire within, and again the thrill! I did not
this time recoil; I continued to grasp the wand, and sought deliberately
to analyze my own sensations in the contact. There came over me an
increased consciousness of vital power; a certain exhilaration,
elasticity, vigour, such as a strong cordial may produce on a fainting
man. All the forces of my frame seemed refreshed, redoubled; and as such
effects on the physical system are ordinarily accompanied by correspondent
effects on the mind, so I was sensible of a proud elation of spirits,--a
kind of defying, superb self-glorying. All fear seemed blotted out from
my thought, as a weakness impossible to the grandeur and might which
belong to Intellectual Man; I felt as if it were a royal delight to scorn
Earth and its opinions, brave Hades and its spectres. Rapidly this
new-born arrogance enlarged itself into desires vague but daring. My mind
reverted to the wild phenomena associated with its memories of Margrave.
I said half-aloud, "if a creature so beneath myself in constancy of will
and completion of thought can wrest from Nature favours so marvellous,
what could not be won from her by me, her patient persevering seeker?
What if there be spirits around and about, invisible to the common eye,
but whom we can submit to our control; and what if this rod be charged
with some occult fluid, that runs through all creation, and can be so
disciplined as to establish communication wherever life and thought can
reach to beings that live and think? So would the mystics of old explain
what perplexes me. Am I sure that the mystics of old duped them selves
or their pupils? This, then, this slight wand, light as a reed in my
grasp, this, then, was the instrument by which Margrave sent his
irresistible will through air and space, and by which I smote himself, in
the midst of his tiger-like wrath, into the helplessness of a sick man's
swoon! Can the instrument at this distance still control him; if now
meditating evil, disarm and disable his purpose?" Involuntarily, as I
revolved these ideas, I stretched forth the wand, with a concentred
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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