Approaching the matter next from a descriptive point of view, it becomes pertinent to inquire what are the actual interests which give vitality to Psychical Research, which support the investigator in his laborious and tedious collection and compilation of cases, which provide the membership for the Society for Psychical Research, and the still wider circle of interested readers, which induce so many correspondents to record long and painstaking accounts of their peculiar "psychical" experiences, which make the discussion of these matters a favorite topic of conversation. That these interests are diverse is obvious; yet they fall naturally into a few groups or types, of which the occult interest is probably the most widespread. This, in its pronounced form, proceeds upon a suppressed or acknowledged conviction that the world which science reveals is but a torso of reality; that its very head—that which gives significance and expression to the whole—may be missing, and can only be restored from isolated fragments, themselves to be found by rare good fortune. The key to the riddle of existence is to be sought in the personal significance of events; in moments of great stress and strain, in critical emergencies when communication between individuals deeply concerned must be established though the heavensfall, it is claimed that the heavensdooccasionally fall, that the laws of earth are transcended, and the phantasms of the dying are telepathically wafted to the sentient consciousness of the interested kinsman or friend. Apparitions and presentiments are interpreted as mystic symbols of the order of events, which cast their shadows before or coincidently with them. The intelligence of the departed, likewise, is discerned in these manifestations; and through haunted houses and séance chambers, through the inspired utterances of entranced mediums, messages are revealed that indicate conclusively the impossibility of their transmission through ordinary channels, or, it may be, their unmistakable "spiritual" origin. The supernormal, transcendent, undiscovered world of the occult shines through, though fitfully and visible only to those who have eyes to see, the commonplace, constrained phenomena of earth-bound reality. Variable as may be the formulation and trend of this interest, yet in some form this suspicion or quasi-belief (for which the term "occult" seems appropriate) that there are things undreamt of in our philosophy, that these residual phenomena are profoundly significant and afford a glimpse of the great unknown, as well as of the fallibility and the poverty of scientific conceptions, furnishes a very considerableclientèleof Psychical Research. The why and wherefore of this inclination need not here be discussed; its prevalence is unmistakable. And though it appears now in a crude and superstitious guise, and again in a more refined and critical attitude, and more rarely is unwillingly assumed as the only possible alternative in the face of striking personal and otherevidence, yet there is a sufficient community of belief in these several positions to warrant their inclusion in a common though variable type. As applied to Psychical Research, it is important neither to generalize from the worst nor from the best expressions of this occult interest, but to appreciate its range of distribution amid the diversity of temperament and endowment.
As the occult interest recedes to an obscure position in the background, and as the foreground and middle distance come to be suffused with the light of critical discernment and of the scientific spirit of inquiry, the "psychical researcher" approximates to the psychological point of view. This essentially psychological interest is necessarily a strong one in some of the distinctive problems of Psychical Research, and often mingles with other interests to form a curious composite. It may be a morbid, an uninformed, a misguided, a dilettante interest, but its psychological character may be noted without implication of any further comment of approval or disapproval. Favorably interpreted, this psychological interest is an interest in the intrinsic nature and analysis of mental processes,—an interest in tracing the various threads that compose the twisted strands of consciousness, in following the kaleidoscopic transformations wrought by attention and association, in observing the play of habit, the subtle processes of illusion and misinterpretation, the unexpected intrusion of the subconscious, and likewise in the pursuit of these as exemplified in concrete instances; among others, in such alleged phenomena as are commonly described as "mesmeric, psychical, and Spiritualistic."
While this interest may be combined with the occultinterest, the two are not really congenial and are in essence antagonistic. We are all rational only in spots; and many a "psychical researcher" pursues some of his investigations under the guidance of a scientifically psychological interest, while in other directions the occult interest takes the helm. The analysis of the contrast between the two may be helpful in realizing more fully the divergences of Psychology and Psychical Research. The "psychical researcher" wishes to prove or to disprove something; with regard to this or that phenomenon he wishes to know "what there is in it," and is accordingly attracted to phenomena which seem to have something mysterious in them. As soon as he succeeds in finding a consistent and commonplace explanation for a group of phenomena, his main curiosity is satisfied, and he takes to pastures new. When once he has shown that theosophic marvels are the result of trickery and collusion, then the physical appearances of Theosophy have beenexplained. It has been demonstrated that there is "nothing in them," that is, nothing transcendental. The verdict is given, and the court passes on to the next case. But the psychologist's interest in how Mme. Blavatsky performed her astral manifestations was always a very subordinate and incidental one; the logical scientist, whether he happened to be physicist or biologist or psychologist, was quite convinced that Mme. Blavatsky had not discovered the means of carrying ponderables by unseen agencies from "China to Peru" (which, by the way, would, if possible, be a matter for the physicist and not at all for the psychologist to investigate), any more than she had been able to discoverthe secret of immortality (which would in turn be a biological discovery), or had been able to leave her body in New York, while her "astral" soul inspected what was going on in India (which might indeed be regarded as a psychological feat). The psychological problem of Theosophy, so far as there is one, is of a different type; it takes up the inquiry as to how such marvelous pretensions come to be believed, by what influences conviction is formed and doctrines spread. It contributes an incident or an apt illustration to the psychology of belief, or to the social psychology of contagion. The psychologist is interested in the illustration which such a movement affords of the action of certain mental processes and influences; and his interest persists, whether there is presumably "something in it," or not. The resulting difference in attitude between the psychologist and the "psychical researcher" is indeed fundamental, and even more so in principle than in practical issue.
It is desirable but not easy to find parallel illustrations of this difference in attitude in other than psychological discussions; but perhaps the following may be pertinent. If the widespread interest in the North Pole were merely that in the possibility of its furnishing the key to the mystery of the northward-turning magnet, and were at once to disappear upon the removal of the mystery, such an interest would be quite parallel to that of the "psychic researcher;" but the interest of the true physicist in any physical phenomenon which in the future may be demonstrated to exist at the North Pole would be a persistent one, and one depending for its value on the illustration thusrevealed, not of mystery but of recognized physical principles. Furthermore, be it observed that however valuable may be the physical facts obtainable by a polar expedition, there is no overwhelming obligation resting upon every physicist to desert his laboratory and embark for the farthest north; but that such expeditions are decided by considerations of general interest, expediency, and importance. There is no obligation resting upon the physicist any more than upon the psychologist to make large sacrifices for the pursuit of ill-defined residual phenomena, and certainly not for the refutal of far-fetched theories and suggested supernatural notions. Physicist and psychologist alike contribute most to the advancement of their science by an open-minded but systematic pursuit of definite, significant, and logically fashioned problems.
Let it not be inferred from the emphasis placed upon this contrast that Psychical Research is in itself to be condemned or to be regarded as useless. Not at all; only in many aspects it is not psychological, and the psychologist is under no obligation to find an interest in, nor to occupy himself with, this aspect of things, if his general trend does not happen to point that way. The physicist may be called upon with equal propriety to aid in many inquiries which the Society for Psychical Research has undertaken. Among the early records of the Society appears an account of a man who presented himself with an iron ring on his arm, far too small to have been slipped over his hand, and who seemed to imply that possibly the spirits put it there, or that it came on through some supernatural agency. This was regarded as a proper case for the Society for PsychicalResearch to examine. If it could have been demonstrated that the ring reached its position through the exercise of the will of some living persons or spirits, the phenomenon, I suppose, would in some sense be psychological; if it were demonstrated that it came transported through the fourth dimension of space, it might be termed physical. But in reality it was probably physiological, for there was evidence that it was by the effects of etherization that the hand was contracted and that the ring was forced over it. Surely it is most absurd to designate such an inquiry, however interesting and proper it may be regarded, Psychical Research. It certainly is a highly commendable function for a society to take upon itself the investigation of such claims as theosophy or spiritualism put forward, whenever movements of this type are likely to develop into psychic epidemics or to prove a social menace. Any authoritative body that will exhibit the absurdity of such claims, and expose the truemodus operandiof the manifestations, will perform an important civic function. Such a function was performed by the Royal Commission of 1784, in exposing the vain pretensions and the insidious dangers of animal magnetism; Mr. Hodgson's investigations of theosophy, the Seybert Commission's report on spiritualism, are both able and useful contributions of the same type; and, at present, an authoritative statement regarding the theoretical absurdity and the practical dangers of Christian Science might prove efficacious. Such special investigations represent the practical application of science to concrete conditions and problems; they are woefully misnamed, and their significance is likely to be misinterpreted, when theyare presented as Psychical Research, and are grouped along with other problems of a totally different nature.
I shall next touch briefly upon other diverse yet allied interests in Psychical Research, which may serve to illustrate further the various avenues of approach to this heterogeneous group of problems. I shall speak of these as the explanatory, the investigative, and the anthropological interests. The first is satisfied with finding out how alleged marvels are really performed; it takes up the physical phenomena of spiritualism or theosophy; it investigates conjuring tricks; it discovers the origin of noises in haunted houses; it ferrets out the means whereby mediums obtain knowledge of their sitters' private affairs. This is proper work for experts in prestidigitation and for detectives,—not for all such, for to be successful, the conjurer and the detective must have special knowledge and fitness for this branch of the trade. While the facts thus gathered may be useful as illustrative material to the psychologist, they form no essential part of his profession; nor is there any special reason why he should be best suited to determine the technicalmodus operandiof such manifestations. That some psychologists with a strong interest in this type of phenomena might properly coöperate in such an investigation, if they chose, is too obvious to merit remark; but to trace out and expose trickery cannot be imposed upon the burdensome duties of the psychologist.
With a certain type of "psychical researcher" this explanatory interest is the dominant one; and by dispelling error and replacing false notions by true ones he may perform a useful service to the community.The explanatory interest is quite certain to be supplemented by the investigative, and that because the latter soon becomes necessary to the former. While the one is concerned with the explanation and description of the actual marvels accomplished, the other must consider also what is reported and what is believed to have been accomplished. The mechanism of a trick, whether brought forward as evidence of spiritualism or not, when clearly exhibited, explains the trick; a loose board under the roof, or the reflection from a lustrous surface, may at once reveal how mysterious noises and lights were really produced. But one must go farther to account for the recognition of relatives in the form of the medium covered with flimsy drapery, for the automatic spelling out of messages, or for the successes of guessing experiments. These two interests thus proceed hand in hand and furnish valuable material which the psychologist is ready to interpret and to utilize; for the study of how false beliefs spread, of how deception proceeds, teems with points of psychological significance. This, however, is by no means a unique characteristic of Psychical Research; there are also interesting psychological points in such diverse occupations as the actor's profession, in juggling and tricks of skill, in advertising, in religions revivals, etc. It is highly desirable that the materials thus gathered should be psychologically utilized, and it is equally desirable that such material should be collected. Many valuable studies in Psychical Research, which owe their origin not to a truly psychological interest but to this general explanatory and investigative interest, have incidentally brought to light material of greatsuggestiveness for the psychologist, and material which quite possibly would not otherwise have been discovered. I am more than willing to contribute whatever I can to the maintenance of a Coöperative Psychological Investigation Society which shall stand ready to take up the investigation of any phenomena which promise to yield data of psychological interest; which shall, however, keep far removed from any phase of the transcendental or the occult; which shall not feel itself under any obligation todisproveany improbable or absurd hypothesis which this or that seeker for notoriety may choose to put forward; which shall not be dominated merely by the spirit of finding out whether there is "anything in" one movement or another, but will simply stand ready to supplement the work of the academic laboratories by undertaking, in the same spirit, a special form of investigation, which, under existing circumstances, such laboratories or their individual directors cannot expediently undertake.
The anthropological interest, above referred to, is to my mind a most valid one, and is best represented in Mr. Andrew Lang's volume, "Cock Lane and Common Sense." Mr. Lang there examines the stories of ghosts and apparitions, and clairvoyance, and spiritual knocks and raps, and strange influences, and haunted places, not at all for determining how little or how much these things are true, but how they come to be believed in. How is it that the same tale is told, the same powers credited, the same manifestations produced, in evidence of the supernatural? In savage as well as in ancient magic, in the stories current in former centuries as well as in our own day and generation, there is a pronouncedgeneric similarity. There is certainly as strong an interest in the investigation of the growth and distribution of these beliefs as of the other clusters of belief which anthropology and folk-lore consider. And, moreover, recently acquired knowledge of hypnotic and automatic phenomena, of hyperæsthesia and nervous disease, shed much light on the obscure tales of the past, and assist the comprehension of how such beliefs could have originated. In brief, Mr. Lang outlines the programme for a "Comparative Psychical Research," and tells us that "we follow the stream of fable, as we track a burn to its head, and it leads us into shy and strange scenes of human life, haunted by very fearful wild fowl, and rarely visited, save by the credulous. There may be entertainment here, and, to the student of his species, there may be instruction." Part of the instruction will consist in gaining an increased familiarity with the psychological conditions which produce and foster these narratives and beliefs, and with their social and traditional significance; in concluding, with Mr. Lang, "that the psychological conditions which begat the ancient narratives produce the new legends."
Thus far, our attention has been centred upon thetendenz, the basis of interest, and the affiliations of Psychical Research. It will be well to turn to a consideration of the content of the problems. Inasmuch as the term represents a convenient but arbitrary designation of a heterogeneous group of phenomena, we are prepared to find that the data of the severalproblems thus collected will be as diverse as their methods of study. We may begin with the group of problems which might properly be considered in the chapter of Abnormal Psychology that is devoted to the milder forms of aberrant or unusual mental phenomena. The study of hypnotism occupies a prominent place in Psychology and in Psychical Research. The remarkable exhibitions of extreme suggestibility, particularly the hyperæsthesia thus inducible, and again the illumination of the subconscious thereby effected, have brought about a realizing sense of how fearfully and wonderfully we are made. Between savage priest and doctor, and Delphic oracle, and mediæval ascetic, and magnetic somnambule, and inspirational medium, there is an irregular connection in their entrance into a trance-like condition involving a readjustment of the strata of consciousness and of the distribution of authority in the hierarchy of the nervous centres. This was and remains one of the gateways to the land of marvel and mystery. The importance of hypnotism in Psychology is in its use, both as a method of exhibiting the relations of processes not otherwise accessible to experiment, and as a demonstration of the actual possibilities of suggestion in health and disease. The hypnotic phenomena are intrinsically interesting and valuable as contributions to the natural history of mentality; the hypnotic method of study offers the experimental psychologist the opportunity to apply his most potent aid to research in precisely that field of inquiry in which the experimental methods of ordinary consciousness are least available.
In this domain, the psychologist and the "psychicalresearcher" proceed most amicably; and yet their purposes and points of view lead them frequently to part company, although it may be only for a briefau revoir. When the "psychical researcher" leaves the main highway to track a possible "telepathic" hypnotic subject, or one who, while hypnotized, is sensitive to the magnetic current, or who experiences the characteristic effects of drugs applied in sealed vials to the back of the neck, or who falls into the hypnotic condition when handling a "magnetized" doll,—the psychologist is apt to decline the invitation to join in the pursuit. I should advise him, however, to go along for the sake of the excellent illustrations thus obtainable of the effects of unconscious suggestion. From the time of the first serious investigation of these phenomena up to the present, unconscious suggestion has been one of the most potent influences for the production of alleged marvels and pseudo-phenomena. All the series of experiments brought forward at irregular intervals during the past century to establish supernormal sensibilities have depended for their apparent success (apart from trickery) upon unconscious suggestion of the operators, combined with the shrewd assimilation of the desired or expected result on the part of the subjects. The transposition of the senses discovered by Pétetin (1787), the hypnotized subjects who in Braid's day (1850) proved the location of the phrenological organs by the appropriateness of their actions when certain parts of the head were pressed, the sensitiveness to magnets and hermetically sealed drugs brought forward by Reichenbach (1845), and by Bourru and Burot (1885), and Dr. Luys's(1890) absurd trifling with puppets, and probably, too, Charcot's sharp differentiation of distinct hypnotic conditions (1882),—all furnish illustrations of the subtle possibilities of unconscious suggestion. Besides adorning an interesting psychological tale, they point a moral to the intending investigator, and open his eyes to the extreme caution necessary to exclude this source of error, and to realize the ever-present possibility that, in spite of the sterilizing apparatus and the other equipments of modern research, the germs of this insidious form of delusion may have been unwittingly introduced.
The application of our knowledge of hypnotism to the explanation of alleged supernormal and unusual sensibilities is particularly interesting to the "psychical researcher"; the general enlargement of our knowledge of these conditions, irrespective of such an application, represents the aim of the psychologist. The latter may indeed cite Mr. Lang's dictum that "science is only concerned with truth, not with the mischievous inferences which people may draw from truth," as an excuse for his own declination to coöperate in the correction of such mischievous inferences. But the civic conscience of the psychologist may convince him that the removal of error is often an indispensable requisite to the dissemination of truth.
The study of the subconscious or the subliminal consciousness, of multiple personality, of mental automatisms, of involuntary actions, of induced visualizations, of sporadic hallucinations, may be cited as further illustrations of topics interesting to the "psychical researcher" for their bearings upon the apparent transcendenceof the normal, and to the psychologist for illustrations of important groups of mental processes and relations. I must refer to the general literature for descriptions of these several phenomena; the subtle connection between one hypnotic condition and the next, bridging over a period of normal consciousness with complete forgetfulness of the hypnotic consciousness; the still more subtle evidence for the latency of impressions thus revivable by an appeal to the subconscious; the elaboration, in trance experiences, of these nether world phenomena into organized personalities, which in the remarkable case reported by Professor Flournoy expanded from a personification of Marie Antoinette to that of a Martian revisiting Mars, describing Martian scenery and customs, and writing in Martian language, and again to the reincarnation of a Hindu princess of four centuries ago; the affiliation of these cases to those of spontaneous loss of personality in actual life, like that of the Rev. Ansel Bourne, related by Professor James; the automatic writings performed by hypnotic subjects and by persons in normal conditions; the power to induce visions by "crystal gazing," and auditory hallucinations by "shell-hearing"; the census of hallucinations, together with the very important series of observations relative to the psychology of deception,—these represent the more truly psychological contributions of psychologists and "psychical researchers" to their common domain.
The place which the explanation of spiritualistic and theosophic manifestations occupies in Psychical Research has already been noted; that of ghosts and rappings and haunted houses andpoltergeistsis quitesimilar. Not wholly yet measurably different is the status of the study of hallucinations, presentiments, and previsions or premonitions. In this entire group of phenomena, the interests of Psychology and of Psychical Research are in the main distinct. This is readily illustrated with reference to the study of hallucinations. These are interesting to the psychologist quite in the same sense as any other natural product of psycho-physiological action; the prevalence of hallucinations under fairly normal conditions presents one out of a large number of interesting details, and forms a proper investigation for the Society for Psychical Research. Their census of hallucinations hardly bears out the conclusions which have been drawn therefrom, but contains much interesting information. When, however, the emphasis of the investigation is placed upon "veridical" hallucinations, and the establishment of the conclusion that so many more of these hallucinations and presentiments "come true," or have a mysterious significance, than chance would allow, then the psychological interest is quite obscured by an interest of a totally different character. A "veridical" hallucination has little psychological pertinence; for it is equally interesting psychologically whether it happens to come true or not. The bearing of the hallucination upon or its origin in some of the occupations of normal waking life; the possibility of its interpretation as a peculiar retroactive illusion of memory, as Professor Royce has suggested for some cases; its significance as an unconscious perception of the shadow already present, not yet visible to consciousness, but coming before the event,—such aresignificant characteristics of hallucinations. The results of the study of hallucinations may likewise be applied to a determination of their relation to the sum total of the sequences of consciousness that constitute our mental life; but there is only a most incidental psychological interest in the apparently personally significant or "veridical" aspect of the phenomena. And furthermore, whether they are truly "veridical" or only seemingly so; whether, in other words, there is evidence enough in quality and quantity to make it a proper scientific inquiry as to the existence of a cause-and-effect-like relation between presentiment and issue,—this is a logical inquiry, although one which, along with other factors, includes psychological considerations.
We here naturally approach what has, on the whole, formed the most conspicuous problem of Psychical Research—that associated with the term "telepathy." It will contribute to clearness of distinction to consider separately the question, whether the evidence accumulated in any wise justifies the conclusion, that there exists a form of communication occasionally going on between mind and mind apart from the recognized channels of sensation. This, too, is a strictly logical question, and is so presented in the following essay. We are here concerned with the status of telepathy in its relation to Psychology and Psychical Research; this it is possible to indicate briefly. First, if there really exist this extra-normal, fitful and occasional, uncertain and sporadic form of communication, and if it can be conceived of in psychological terms, it forms an interesting, possibly even a momentous contribution to our knowledge of mental processes.In the present status of the alleged conditions of operations of telepathy, it will hardly modify seriously the direction or scope of the development of Psychology. It being unnecessary to cross bridges before coming to them, it may be sufficient to observe that up to the present there exists no decided prospect either of the demonstration of the reality of this process or of its psychological formulation; and far less either of its inclusion within the science of Psychology, or of its practical utilization. When the day comes when the incontestable establishment of telepathy, as indeed of any totally novel contribution to Psychology, shall require a revision of psychological principles, Psychology will certainly have to be revised. What, then, many will retort, can be more important for the psychologist than to devote himself to the investigation of telepathy, to decide whether his Psychology needs reconstruction or not? The answer is near at hand: there is no obligation upon any science to reconstruct its basal principles whenever it is suggested that these are incorrect or inadequate. It is not the suggestion of their inadequacy that is significant, but the concrete facts and evidence available to prove their inadequacy. If a new view can establish itself by its logical cogency and displace an accepted doctrine, if new facts, adequately established, make necessary a revision of current generalizations, no scientist and no science will protest. The present status of telepathy is simply not a formidable candidate for this distinction.
That the evidence brought forward in proof of telepathy, similarly to that adduced for "veridical hallucinations," is capable of psychological interpretation, andalso contains interesting illustrations of obscure and subtle mental processes, becomes evident to the discerning student, and merits an extended demonstration. It is in the pursuit of such a demonstration that the psychologist turns to the records of "phantasms of the living," and of experimental thought-transference, thereby adding to an already significant and extensive collection of material illustrative of the influences of the undercurrents of thought-processes. Yet it is by no means urged that this is the only phase of utility which the study of telepathy holds out. That any one who is convinced of his ability to demonstrate telepathy is free to follow his conviction, will not be disputed; that in the course of his investigations he may succeed in revealing the presence of unrecognized forms of mental action, it would be mere dogmatism to deny. Two things, however, should be clearly understood; the first, that his data cannot claim serious attention before they are strong in their validity, and extensive in their scope, and consistently significant in their structure; then, and not before, are they ready for the crucible of scientific logic, from which they may or may not emerge as standard metal, to be stamped and circulated as accepted coin of the realm. The second point relates to the status of the obligation to disprove the telepathic position. This is more often a question of expediency than of right. If the obligation can readily be discharged, it is usually desirable to do so, for the reason that the removal of actual error and misconception is often one of the methods of advancing science; but there is no burden of disproof resting upon the scientist.
That the proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research contain valuable material in creditable quantity is evident to any unprejudiced reader; in many ways they are neither so bad nor so good as they are painted to be. That "psychical researchers," though pursuing their labors with different motives, have in one direction and another contributed to the advance of Psychology, I have attempted to make clear. Furthermore, the activity of this Society has been prominent in making the borderland of science of to-day present a far more hopeful aspect than ever before. It has substituted definiteness of statement, careful examination, recognition of sources of error, close adherence to as carefully authenticated fact as is attainable, for loose and extravagant speculation, for bare assertion and obscuring irrelevancy. It has made possible a scientific statement and a definiteness of conception of problems, even where its proposed solution of them may be thought misleading or inadequate. But in my opinion the debit side of the ledger far outbalances the credit side. The influence which Psychical Research has cast in favor of the occult, the enrollment under a common protective authority of the credulous and the superstitious, and the believers in mystery and in the personal significance of things, is but one of the evils which must be laid at its door. Equally pernicious is the distorted conception, which the prominence of Psychical Research has scattered broadcast, of the purposes and methods of Psychology. The status of that science has suffered, its representatives have been misunderstood,its advancement has been hampered, its appreciation by the public at large has been weakened and wrongly estimated, by reason of the popularity of the unfortunate aspects of Psychical Research, and of its confusion with them. Whatever in the publications of Psychical Research seems to favor mystery and to substantiate supernormal powers is readily absorbed, and its bearings fancifully interpreted and exaggerated; the more critical and successfully explanatory papers meet with a less extended and less sensational reception. Unless most wisely directed Psychical Research is likely, by not letting the right hand know what the left hand is doing, to foster the undesirable propensities of human nature as rapidly as it antagonizes them. Like indiscriminate almsgiving, it has the possibilities of affording relief and of making paupers at the same time. Particularly by the unwarranted acceptance of telepathy as a reality or as a working hypothesis, and the still more unwarranted use of this highly hypothetical process as a means of explaining more complex and obscure phenomena, has it defeated one of the most important purposes which it might have served.
The popular as well as the more critical acceptance of Psychical Research, both of the term and of the conceptions associated with it, has disseminated a totally false estimate on the part of the public at large of the scope and purposes of modern Psychology; and has quite possibly given an unfortunate twist to the trend of recent psychological thought. The right appreciation of scientific aims and ideals by the intelligent and influential public has come to be almost indispensable to the favorable advancement of science. Psychologycan less afford than many another science to dispense with this helpful influence; and no science can remain unaffected by persistent misinterpretation of its true end and aims. If Psychical Research is to continue in its present temper, it becomes essential to have it clearly understood just how far its purposes and spirit are, and how much farther they are not, in accord with the purposes and the spirit of Psychology. The optimistic psychologist anticipates the day when he will no longer be regarded, either in high life or in low life, as a collector of ghost stories or an investigator of mediums. The disuse of the unfortunate term "Psychical Research," and far more, the modification of the conceptions animating this type of investigation, the pursuit of its more intrinsically psychological problems in a more truly psychological spirit, and perhaps, most of all, the disassociation of the term "Psychology" from the undesirable and irrelevant connotations of Psychical Research, are all consummations devoutly to be desired.
What will be pronounced strange or curious is largely determined by the range and composition of the common body of knowledge to whose laws and uniformities the phenomena in question apparently fail to conform. What is passing strange to one generation may become easily intelligible to the next. We all have eyes that see not for all but a limited range of facts and views; and we unconsciously fill out the blind-spots of our mental retinæ according to the habits and acquisitions of the surrounding areas. We observe and record what interests us; and this interest is in turn the outcome of a greater or lesser endowment, knowledge, and training. A new observation requires, as a rule, not a new sense-organ or an additional faculty, nor even more powerful or novel apparatus, but an insight into the significance of quite lowly and frequent things. Most of the appearances of the earth's crust, which the modern geologist so intelligently describes, were just as patent centuries ago as now; what we have added is the body of knowledge that makes men look for such facts and gives them a meaning. And although "the heir of all the ages," we can hardly presume to have investigated more than a modest portion of our potential inheritance; futuregenerations will doubtless acquire interests and points of view which will enable them to fill some of the many gaps in our knowledge, to find a meaning in what we perchance ignore or regard as trivial, and to reduce to order and consistency what to us seems strange or curious or unintelligible. And future generations, by virtue of a broader perspective and a deeper insight, may give little heed to what we look upon as significant,—much as we pronounce irrelevant and superstitious the minute observances whereby primitive folk strive to attract the good fortunes and to avoid the dangers of human existence.
The possibility of the transference of thought, apart from the recognized channels of sensation, has been too frequently discussed, with the suppressed or unconscious assumption that our knowledge of the means whereby we ordinarily and normally, consciously and unconsciously, convey to others some notion of what is passing in our own minds, is comprehensive and exhaustive. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Whenever a mode of perception, no matter how limited or apparently trivial, has been thoroughly investigated, there have been discovered, or at least suggested, unrecognized possibilities of its use and development. And no result of experimental inquiry is more constantly illustrated than the extent to which inferences from sensations and the exercise of faculties may proceed without arousing consciousness of their existence. Many color-blind persons remain quite ignorant of their defect; and it was only after the description ofhis own notable deficiencies by Dalton (in 1794) that the general prevalence of color-blindness became recognized. The fact that a portion of every one's retina is as blind as his finger-tip escaped observation until about two centuries ago; and this because the normal use of our eyes does not present the conditions of its easy detection; and for a like reason we persistently refuse to see the double images that are constantly formed upon our retinæ. With the same unconsciousness that we receive sensations and draw inferences from them, do we give to others indications of what is going on in our minds, and read between their words and under their expressions what "half reveals and half conceals the thoughts that lie within." It is important to emphasize the serious limitations as yet attaching to our knowledge of the detailed possibilities of normal perception and inference, in order to realize the corresponding hesitancy with which we should regard any series of facts, no matter how apparently inexplicable, as evidence of a supernormal kind of mental telegraphy.
A further principle important in this connection, and one which is likewise borne out by experimental inquiry, is the general similarity in our mental machinery in matters great and small, and the resulting frequency with which similar trains of thought may be carried on by different persons as the outcome of similar but independent brain-functioning. There is a natural tendency to exaggerate the individuality of our own ways of thought and expression; and yet but little reflection is necessary to suggest how easily this fond belief may be at least partially delusive. In certainlines of thought, such as mathematics, we should regard it as strange if two thinkers, starting with the premises determined by the problem in hand, should not reach the same conclusion; in others, such as economic or political questions, we observe the preponderance of evidence in one direction, and yet can appreciate the grounds of a contrary opinion; and while in still other cases we regard the verdict as a matter of taste or of individual preference, it may be questioned whether this is so unmotived or lawless a process as is commonly assumed. While we properly expect more mental community in certain lines than in others, we have good grounds for believing that it exists everywhere and only awaits the proper modes of investigation to reveal it in its full extent and significance. With the marvelously increased facilities for the dissemination and transportation of thought, the range of such mental community is certain to be correspondingly extended. Coincidences arising from the bringing together of widely separated and apparently unrelated happenings are sure to multiply, when the means of bringing them together are so vastly increased. Each man's world is enlarged by the enlargement of the whole. It becomes possible for him to come into relation with infinitely more persons and events, and the resulting coincidences are nowadays more likely to be noticed and recorded.
If we consider the logical ease with which the successful solution of one portion of a problem suggests the next step; how imperceptibly and yet effectively sentiments and points of view and the spirit of the time are disseminated; how many persons thereare in this busily reflective era occupied with similar thoughts and schemes, and how readily they may come into communication; how many are anxiously studying the popular taste and demand to determine what literary venture or mechanical invention is likely to be timely and successful; how the possession of a common inheritance, patriotic interests, education, literature, political arena, social usages, newspaper intelligence, household conveniences, and the endless everyday factors of our complex, richly detailed existence all contribute to our common life,—shall we wonder that some two or half a dozen intellects should give expression to similar thoughts at nearly the same time? Would it not be infinitely more wonderful if such coincidences did not constantly occur? In the more original contributions to literature, science, and inventions, such thought-correspondences should be rarer; and certainly this is true. Contrast the number of striking similarities in the higher walks of literature and science with those that occur in small inventions. Hardly a day passes without the coincidence of two persons thinking of devices for accomplishing the same purposes, so essentially similar that patents could not be given to both. It is certainly not difficult to understand why several different patterns of typewriting machines should be invented nearly simultaneously, and it would not be altogether mysterious if, at the first, two inventors had independently reached the idea of a writing-machine at nearly the same time. The experience of offering an article to an editor and receiving a reply to the effect that another article dealing with a similar topic in a similar way was already awaiting thecompositor is not unusual. It is true that these coincidences are of a minor order, but it seems desirable to emphasize the frequency of these minor forms in order to suggest the law-abiding character of the rarer or the more striking forms; for this is just what the normal distribution of such phenomena would lead us to expect.
It would be pleasant to believe that the application of the doctrine of chances to problems of this character is quite generally recognized; but this recognition is so often accompanied by the feeling that the law very clearly applies to all cases but the one that happens to be under discussion, that I fear the belief is unwarranted. Moreover, the notion seems to prevail that these coincidences should occur with equal frequency to all persons; while, in fact, the law of probability provides for the most various distribution among individuals. However, the attempt, and it may be the sincere attempt, to apply proper conceptions of probability and improbability to such problems often fails, because of an unfortunate mental attitude which presents, with an outward acquiescence in the objective view of the problem, an inward conviction in which the subjective interpretation is really dominant; for this and other reasons, this objective method of viewing the matter, however pertinent, is not the most important.
One of the most deplorable attitudes towards the borderland phenomena of which mental telegraphy or telepathy forms a type, is that which insists upon an exact and detailed explanation of concrete personal experiences, and regards these as so essentially peculiarthat it refuses to consider them in connection with the many other instances of the same class, without reference to which a rational explanation is unattainable. This tendency, to insist that the laws of science shall be precisely and in detail applicable to individual experiences possessing a personal interest for us, has wrought much havoc; it has contributed to superstition, fostered pseudo-science, and encouraged charlatanism. To antagonize this tendency it is necessary to insist upon the statistical nature of the inquiry. We should certainly be familiar in this statistic-filled age with the law-abiding character of individual happenings when considered in large groups. So many types of facts depending upon individual and heterogeneous motives shoot together and form curves of surprising regularity; the number of marriages or of misdirected letters, the falsification of ages or the distribution of heights of individuals, and countless other items that in individual cases seem accidental, or capricious, or due to a host of minute and unaccountable factors, none the less present a striking statistical regularity. The owners of a gaming-table, counting upon the statistical regularity of the accidental, are assured of a steady income; they are interested long enough to obtain an extensive view of the fluctuations, and to see the law that guides the whole. Not so the individual player; he is interested only in that particular portion of the game in which his money is at stake. He detects mysterious laws of fortune and freaks of luck; sees in a series of coincidences or momentary successes the proofs of his pet schemes, and dismisses the general doctrine of chances with disdain,because it is not obviously applicable to his case. This influences the losers as well as the winners; both are absorbed in their own minute portions of the game, and forget that the law makes distinct provision for temporary losses and gains, great and small, but is as indifferent to the times and order of such occurrences as to the personality of those affected.
The distinction between the individual and the statistical aspect of a problem may be further illustrated in the much-discussed question of the differences in brain characteristics of men and women. When the claimants for woman's equality point to the acknowledged inability of an anatomist to determine whether a particular brain belonged to a man or a woman as conclusive evidence of their contention, they unconsciously assume that the problem is capable of determination in the individual specimen. A sounder logic would insure greater caution. The differences in question may be certainly established and typical, and yet depend upon statistical, not upon individual data. Give the anatomist a goodly number of fairly selected brains and tell him that all the women's brains are in one group, and all the men's brains in another, and he will tell you which group is feminine, which masculine; and this more than offsets his failure in the former test. It establishes a statistical regularity. Individually we may argue that many women of our acquaintance have larger heads than the men; that the English, are not taller than the French, because the Frenchmen we have chanced to meet have been quite as tall as the Englishmen of our acquaintance; that the laws of chance do not apply to the gaming-table, because onthat basis we should have come out even and not as losers; and that coincidences cannot explain our strange mental experiences, because they are altogether too peculiar and too frequent. It is only in the most complete stages and in the more definite realms that knowledge becomes applicable accurately and definitely to individual cases. For the present it is well if, with such abstruse or rather indefinite material, we can glimpse the statistical regularity of the entire group of phenomena, trace here and there the possible or probable application of general principles, and refuse to allow our opinions to be disarranged by rather startling individual cases. The explanation of these, however interesting they may be to ourselves or entertaining to others, is not the test of our knowledge of the subject.
I pick up a stone, and with a peculiar turn of the hand throw it from me; probably no student of mechanics can exactly calculate the course of that projectile,—nor is it worth while. What he can do is to show what laws are obeyed by ideal projectiles, ideally thrown under ideal conditions, and how far the more important practical cases tend to agree with or diverge from these conditions. It is unfair to test his science by its minute applicability to our special experiences.
When the problems involved in mental telegraphy come to be generally viewed under the guidance of a sound logic, the outlook will be hopeful that the whole domain will gradually acquire definite order; and that its devotees, after appreciating the statistical regularity of the phenomena, will come to the conclusion that much of the energy and ability now expended in asearch for the explanation of complex and necessarily indefinite individual cases, is on the whole unprofitable. With an infinite time and an infinite capacity it might be profitable to study all things; but, at present, sanity consists in the maintenance of a proper perspective of the relative importance of the affairs of the intellectual and the practical life. It may be that the man who puzzles day and night over some trivial mystery expends as much brain energy as a great intellectual benefactor of mankind; but the world does not equally cherish the two.
It becomes important in the further consideration of coincidences to emphasize the great opportunity presented in their description for error, for defective observation, for neglect of details, for exaggeration of the degree of correspondence; and equally demonstrable is the slight amount of such error or mal-observation that is all-sufficient to convert a plain fact into a mystery. Consider the disfigurement that a simple tale undergoes as it passes from mouth to mouth; the forgetfulness of important details and the introduction of imaginary ones, exhibited upon the witness stand; the almost universal tendency to substitute inferences from sensations and observations for the actual occurrences; and add to these the striking results of experimental inquiry in this direction—for example, the divergences between the accounts of sleight-of-hand performances or spiritualistic séances and what really occurred—and it becomes less difficult to understand why we so often fail to apply general principles to individual cases. The cases cannot be explained as they are recorded, because asrecorded they do not furnish the essential points upon which the explanation hinges. The narrator may be confident that the points of the story are correctly observed, that all the details are given; and yet this feeling of confidence is by no means to be trusted. It is quite possible that the points that would shed most light on the problem are too trivial to attract attention; a slightly imperfect connection as effectively breaks the circuit and cuts off the possibility of illumination as a more serious disturbance. After the explanation is given or the gap supplied or the break discovered, we often wonder how we could have failed to detect the source of the mystery; but before we know what to observe and what to record and what to be on our guard against, the possibility of error is extremely great, far greater than most of us would be willing to make allowance for; and the strict demonstration as also the refutation of a proposed explanation becomes correspondingly difficult.
I turn to another point, in some respects the most important of all; I refer to the readiness with which we interpret as the remarkable frequency of coincidences what is due to a strong interest in a given direction. Inasmuch as we observe what interests us, a recently acquired interest will lead to new observations—that is, new to us, however familiar they may be to others. Take up the study of almost any topic that appeals to human curiosity, and it takes no prophet to predict that within a short time some portion of your reading or your conversation, or some accidental information,will unexpectedly reveal a bearing on the precise subject of your study, often supplying a gap which it would have been most difficult otherwise to fill; but surely this does not mean that all the world has become telepathically aware of your needs and proceeded to attend to them. Some years ago I became interested in cases of extreme longevity, particularly of centenarianism, and for some months every conversation seemed to lead to this topic, and every magazine and newspaper offered some new item about old people. Nowadays my interest is transferred to other themes; but the paragrapher continues quite creditably to meet my present wants, and the centenarians have vanished. When I am writing about coincidences, I become keen to observe them; such for example as this: I was reading for the second time an article on "Mental Telegraphy" (by Mark Twain in "Harper's Monthly Magazine," December, 1891); I was occupied with what is there described as a most wonderful coincidence, the nearly simultaneous origination by the author and by Mr. William H. Wright of a similar literary venture,—when I happened to take my eyes from the page and saw on my desk a visiting-card bearing the name, "W. H. Wright." It was not the same W. H. Wright, but a gentleman whom I had met for the first time a few hours before, and have not seen since. Had I not been especially interested in this article and its subject, the identity of the names would certainly have escaped my attention, and there would have been no coincidence to record. Quite apropos both of coincidences and of their dependence upon personal interest, I find recorded in a current magazine the experience of one whobecame enthusiastically interested in thoroughbred cats: "Strangely enough—for it is a thing which is recurrently strange—I, who had rarely seen any printed matter relating to cats, now found the word in every newspaper. Adopting a new interest is like starting a snowball; as long as it moves, it gathers other particles to itself."
It is only necessary to become deeply interested in coincidences, to look about with eyes open and eager to detect them, in order to discover them on all sides; resolve to record all that come to hand, and they seem to multiply until you can regard yourself and your friends as providentially favored in this direction. If your calling develops a taste for matters of this kind,—for example, if you are a writer, with a keen sense for the literary possibilities and dramatic effects of such coincidences, or if you are of an imaginative turn of mind with a pronounced or a vague yearning for the interesting or the unusual; if you have a more generous or more persistent endowment of the day-dreaming, fantastic, self-dramatization of adolescence, that is half unreal and yet half externalized in the vividness of youthful fancy,—is it strange that you should meet with more of these "psychic experiences" than your prosaic neighbor whose thoughts and aspirations are turned to quite other channels, and to whom an account of your experiences might even prove tiresome? If you cultivate the habit of having presentiments, and of regarding them as significant, is it strange that they should become more and more frequent, and that among the many, some should be vaguely suggestive, or even directly corroborative of actual occurrences?
The frequent coincidences, which form so influential a factor in disseminating an inclination towards such an hypothesis as telepathy, are doubtless largely the result of an interest in these experiences. This interest is very natural and proper, and when estimated at its true value is certainly harmless; it may indeed contribute material worthy of record for the student of mental phenomena,—or it may give spice to the matter-of-fact incidents of a workaday existence. To many minds, however, the temptation to magnify this interest into a significant portion of one's mental life, to invest it with a serious power to shape belief and to guide conduct, is unusually strong, in some cases almost irresistible. It is this tendency that is essentially antagonistic to a logical view and therefore to a scientific study of these irregular mental incidents; it is this tendency that is responsible for much of the spurious and the unwholesome interest in the problems of mental telegraphy.
It would naturally be expected that the nature and subject-matter of the more frequent types of coincidences and presentiments would throw some light upon their origin, and would in some measure reinforce the general position above taken. We should expect that such coincidences would relate to persons and affairs that are frequently in our thoughts, and that similarities of thought and presentiments based upon them should occur among persons intimately acquainted with one another's thought-habits, at least in regard to that line of thought to which the coincidence relates; these expectations are fairly well borne out by the facts. It is a commonplace observation that presentiments andunusual psychic experiences most frequently relate to those who are dear to us, or in whom we have a momentarily strong interest; that they deal with events which we have anxiously dreaded or desired, or with matters over which we have puzzled or worried; and again, that they occur under conditions of emotional strain, excitement, or anxiety. In brief, they deal with what is frequently in our minds or what more or less unconsciously furnishes the general emotional and intellectual background which gives character to our mood and to our associations of ideas. I need hardly add that it is the more successful and striking coincidences that we remember and record, and the others that are quickly forgotten. Moreover, so large a share of mental operations of the type in question takes place in the region of the subconscious, that our recollection of what has occupied our thoughts is by no means a final authority. Occasionally we detect these subconscious similarities of mental operations, when after a silence the same question or thought shapes itself on the lips of two speakers at the same time; and here again, are not many of those who give utterance to the same thoughts, or finish one another's sentences, intimate companions in the walks of life? Is it strange that in the daily intercourse with a congenial spirit, they should have absorbed enough of one another's mental processes to anticipate, now and then, a step in their association of ideas?
Still another factor that figures somewhat in coincidences relates to events which are sooner or later very likely or quite certain to occur, and in which the coincidence is confined to the close simultaneity of theaction on the part of two or more persons concerned. The crossing of letters is easily the best illustration of this type of occurrence which has the semblance of thought-communication. It is so easy to fall into the habit of delaying all delayable matters as long as possible that it must frequently happen that your own sense of duty is aroused and your correspondent's patience is exhausted at nearly the same time. If A is to hear from B, or B from A, within a period not very definite but still reasonably limited, every day's delay makes it more and more probable that their letters will cross. The same consideration applies to other affairs of daily life; we delay a matter of business and are just about to attend to it when the other party concerned comes to us, or we delay offering some social attention until just as we are about to do so it is asked of us; and so on. In brief, we find not only in sickness and death, in family ties and friendships, in travel and adventure, but also in the special and in the complicated interests of our civilized life an abundant opportunity for coincidences; and we find that their frequency is clearly related to the commonness of the event, and to its familiarity and closeness of relation to our habits of thought.
Reviewing the arguments which have been presented, we find a tendency to underestimate the possibilities of expression and communication through the normal channels of the senses and the subtle inferences based upon them, and also an insufficient appreciation of the unrecognized but by no means supernormal capabilities,which special and unusual susceptibility or training of these same powers of interpretation and thought-revelation may bring about; we find, further, a prevalent underestimation of the generic and at times the specific similarity of the products of our several diverse and yet homogeneous mental equipments, and with it a lack of consideration of the greatly increased facilities for such mental community afforded by modern conditions of rapid transit and rapid sharing of the common benefits of civilization. We find a misconception of the nature of the application of the doctrine of chances to mental coincidences, which brings about an apparent recognition but an intrinsic belittling of the rôle which chance really plays in the evidence advanced for telepathy; we find that this error is probably due to an unfortunate, intensely individual view of the problem, which insists upon an explanation of personal experiences, and disregards the essentially impersonal and statistical nature of the inquiry. This unfair attitude (which is equally unfair if applied to other and more exact data) renders difficult, if not impossible, a just appreciation of the theoretical aspect of the problem and of the application of theory to practice. We find, furthermore, that the recorded data are likely to involve an unusual degree of unreliability owing to such natural psychological tendencies as defective observation, exaggeration, preconception, and the ordinary limitations and failings of humanity; nor is any serious amount of such neglect needed to bridge the gap between intelligible fact and unintelligible mystery. Finally, it is not sufficiently borne in mind that the data are in large part created by the subjective attitude of expectation and interestin such experiences, and that the nature of the more frequent coincidences furnishes satisfactory evidence of their natural relations to dominant interests and occupations. The concordant suggestion from these various considerations is that a very large part of the experiences offered in evidence of mental telegraphy, finds a much more natural and more consistent explanation when viewed as the complex and irregular results of types of mental processes included within the legitimate and recognized domain of psychology. There is no desire to overlook the loose and distant connection that often pertains between the general considerations and the particular phenomena here relevant; on the contrary, this lack of explicit and intimate connection is a logical characteristic of the relation of theory to practice in dealing with such complex and irregular material, and is likely for a long time to remain so. A more properly cultivated logical sense will bring about a more satisfactory appreciation of and a greater intellectual content with this aspect of the problem; it will be recognized that it is wiser to make the best of actual though admittedly unsatisfactory conditions than to fly to evils that we know not of.
I therefore regard the inclination towards a telepathic hypothesis as the result of a defective logical attitude, which in turn may be regarded as the outcome of a natural but unfortunate psychological tendency. In considering the question, "What is the proper inference to be drawn from the accumulated data apparently suggestive of 'communication between mind and mindotherwise than through the known channels of the senses'?" we are considering a logical problem—a problem of considerable difficulty, not one to be entered upon without deliberation and preparation. In considering the question, "How is it that such evidence is readily accepted as proof of telepathy? How is it that this hypothesis is favored above others intrinsically no less improbable?" we are likewise entering upon a complex problem, but one that is psychological in scope and nature. It is to a more fundamental consideration of these questions that we now turn.
I have based my discussion of mental telegraphy almost wholly upon the occurrence of coincidences (using that term not as the equivalent wholly of chance occurrences, but including suggestive or interesting conjunctions of circumstances in general), for the reason that coincidences—both those of a commonplace character and those that seem to possess a striking personal significance—have prepared the popular mind for the acceptance of the telepathic hypothesis, and still constitute the most formidable array of evidence presented for that hypothesis. The other class of evidence to be considered is the experimental, which may be said to include as its most distinctive type the results of tests in which intentional attempts at mental telegraphy were made under definite conditions and usually with specially selected subjects; and as another type, the precise verification and registration of presentiments and peculiar and startling "psychic experiences" with reference to their coincidence with death, accidents, and other serious events in life. It may be admitted that the experimental data are equally worthy with theothers of a logical analysis, and indeed that they present in some respects different and more favorable conditions for the application of such an analysis. In general, however (and I desire to confine this discussion to the general principles involved and not to the analysis of special cases), the considerations that determine the logical value, or the lack of it, of the one type of evidence are applicable without undue modification to the other. Nor do I consider that the experimental data have seriously modified the logical status of the problem as a whole; nor that they have, except in relatively few cases, been of themselves sufficient to make converts to a belief in telepathy. They have undoubtedly very much strengthened and disseminated that belief; but this implies that a favorable disposition to the belief was already present. It is because it seems to me that the presence of this favorable disposition, albeit in suppressed or half-acknowledged form, is in most cases due to some phase of the argument from coincidences, that I have made it central in my discussion. I must not fail to point out, however, that experiments in thought-transference have one important, and that a logical, advantage over observations of coincidences; this is the possibility which they present of quite accurately allowing for the effect of chance. In coincidences the estimate of chance as the source of the conjunction of events is frequently, if not always, a matter of complex judgment over which serious differences of opinion will occur. Some of the published quantitative estimates made by serious and able students of such problems, of the probabilities that certain coincidences have been due to chance have been pronounced altogetherwide of the mark and even absurd by others. In experiments arranged with due precautions there can be no uncertainty on this point; the proportion of successes, that is, of striking coincidences, may be calculated. If the actual number of chance coincidences appreciably exceeds the calculated proportion, and if the theory on which the calculation was based corresponds to the actual conditions, then the results were not due to chance alone. But whether they were due to fraud, or to some unconscious transference of indications, or to telepathy, or to spirit influence, or to interference of the devil, or to the fact that the participants in the experiment were born when the stars and planets presented certain conjunctions, or to the existence of a totally unrecognized form of mental vibrations,—all these are mere hypotheses which may be strong or weak or absurd, according to their power to really account for the results, to their concordance with the sum total of scientific knowledge in this field and with the logical principles guiding the formation of scientific hypotheses. To jump from the conclusion that the results are not due to chance to the conclusion that they are due to telepathy, is no whit more absurd than the position of the astrologer, or the spiritualistic explanation of conjuring tricks. That there is something in these results to be explained is admitted; whether the results have been obtained and recorded in such a way as to contain the clue to their explanation cannot be affirmed; whether our present state of knowledge enables us to explain them may be argued pro and con; whether they are worth serious attention is also a debatable question; but none of these conditionswarrants a resort to the telepathic hypothesis. That hypothesis as all others must be weighed in the logical balance without prepossession, and with full realization of the possibility, that "general appearances suspicious," or "not proven," or a complete suspension of judgment, may be among the present verdicts.