In the first séances a large folding screen placed behind the medium was observed to be vigorously shaken. The medium's feet and hands were carefully held. A table in a neighboring chamber moved of its own accord. In a metal cone placed on the table, enclosing a bit of paper and a lead-pencil, and then riveted up, there was found, when it was unriveted, a ribbon, and a phrase written on the paperin script that had to be read in a looking-glass (écriture en miroir). Other cases of the passage of matter through matter were tried, none of which succeeded. But further on the reports relate the following experiments:In the month of February, 1901, one of Sambor's séances took place at my house, in my study, against the windows of which I had hung curtains of black calico in such a way that the room was plunged in the deepest darkness. The medium occupied a place in the chain. Next to the medium were M. J. Lomatzsch, on his right, myself on his left. Sambor's hands and feet were faithfully held the whole time in a way that gave perfect satisfaction.The phenomena soon began to develop. I do not intend to take the time here to describe them, but I wish to mention a remarkable case of the passage of matter through matter.M. Lomatzsch, controller on the right, declares that someone is pulling his chair from under him. So, redoubling our attention, we continue to hold the medium. M. Lomatzsch's chair is soon positively lifted up, so that he is obliged to stand. Sometime after, he declares that someone is trying to hang the chair on the hand with which he is holding Sambor. Then the chair suddenly disappears from the arm of M. Lomatzsch, and at the same moment I feel a light pressure upon my left arm (I do not mean the one which was in contact with the medium, but with my neighbor on the left M. A. Weber); after which I feel that something heavy is hanging from my arm. When the candle was lighted, we all saw thatmy left arm had been passed through the back of the chair. In this way the chair was nicely balanced upon that one of my arms which was not in contact with Sambor, but with my neighbor on the left. I had not let go of the hands of my neighbors.
In the first séances a large folding screen placed behind the medium was observed to be vigorously shaken. The medium's feet and hands were carefully held. A table in a neighboring chamber moved of its own accord. In a metal cone placed on the table, enclosing a bit of paper and a lead-pencil, and then riveted up, there was found, when it was unriveted, a ribbon, and a phrase written on the paperin script that had to be read in a looking-glass (écriture en miroir). Other cases of the passage of matter through matter were tried, none of which succeeded. But further on the reports relate the following experiments:
In the month of February, 1901, one of Sambor's séances took place at my house, in my study, against the windows of which I had hung curtains of black calico in such a way that the room was plunged in the deepest darkness. The medium occupied a place in the chain. Next to the medium were M. J. Lomatzsch, on his right, myself on his left. Sambor's hands and feet were faithfully held the whole time in a way that gave perfect satisfaction.
The phenomena soon began to develop. I do not intend to take the time here to describe them, but I wish to mention a remarkable case of the passage of matter through matter.
M. Lomatzsch, controller on the right, declares that someone is pulling his chair from under him. So, redoubling our attention, we continue to hold the medium. M. Lomatzsch's chair is soon positively lifted up, so that he is obliged to stand. Sometime after, he declares that someone is trying to hang the chair on the hand with which he is holding Sambor. Then the chair suddenly disappears from the arm of M. Lomatzsch, and at the same moment I feel a light pressure upon my left arm (I do not mean the one which was in contact with the medium, but with my neighbor on the left M. A. Weber); after which I feel that something heavy is hanging from my arm. When the candle was lighted, we all saw thatmy left arm had been passed through the back of the chair. In this way the chair was nicely balanced upon that one of my arms which was not in contact with Sambor, but with my neighbor on the left. I had not let go of the hands of my neighbors.
Such an observation as this needs no commentary (says the reporter of this occurrence, M. Petrovo Solovovo). The fact is simply incomprehensible. I give here some other phenomena which were observed in May, 1902:
1. A cedar apple, an old copper coin which was found to be a Persian coin of 1723, and an amateur photographic portrait of a young woman in mourning unknown to anybody present were found (coming from nobody knew where, nor in what way), upon the table about which we were seated.2. Several different objects in the room were transported to the table by the mysterious force; such, for example, as a thermometer, which had been hung on the wall behind the piano at a distance of from one-half to seven feet from the medium; a large lantern placed upon the piano somewhere between two and four feet behind the medium; several piles of music-books which had rested on the same piano; a framed portrait; and, finally, the candlesconce, the candle, and the different parts of a candlestick belonging to the piano.3. Several times a bronze bell placed on the table was lifted into the air by the mysterious force and noisily rung. On the request of the sitters it was once carried over to the piano (against which it struck a sounding blow), and from there again over to the table.4. Unoccupied chairs had been placed behind the medium. One of them was several times lifted and placed noisily on the table in the midst of the sitters, and without having run against any of them. When upon the table, this chair several times moved about, fell over, and picked itself up.5. One of these same chairs was found to be hung by the back upon the joined hands of the medium and M. de Poggenpohl. Before the beginning of that part of the séance which witnessed this phenomenon, a strip of cloth, slipped over the sleeves of the medium, had been several times tightly twisted around the wrists of M. de Poggenpohl.6. At the request of the sitters, the mysterious force several times stopped the playing of the music-box (it stood on the table around which we were seated), after which it began to play again.7. A sheet of paper and a lead pencil, placed on the table, were thrown on the floor, and everybody distinctly heard the pencil moving over the paper with a heavy pressure and, with a sharp tap, putting a period at the end of what hadbeen written. After this the pencil was laid on the table.8. Five of the experimenters declared that they had been touched by some mysterious hand.9. Twice the mysterious force drew sounds from the piano. The first time, this took place when the lid of the piano was open. The second time, the sounds were heard after the lid had beenlocked with a key, the key remaining on the table in the midst of the circle of experimenters. At first the unknown force began to play a melody on the high notes, and two or three times produced trills. Then chords on the bass notes were heard at the same time with the melody, and, when the piano was playing, the music-box also began to play, both performances lasting several minutes.10. During all the phenomena which have just been described, the medium (Sambor), seemed sunk in a profound trance, and remained almost motionless. The phenomena were not accompanied by any bustle or confusion. His hands and his feet were all the time controlled by his neighbors. M. de Poggenpohl and Loris-Melikow several times saw something long, black, and slender detaching itself from him during the phenomena and moving toward the objects.I will add, in closing (says M. Petrovo Solovovo), that this medium was accused of cupidity and intemperance. These séances were the last he gave (he died a few months afterward). But, to tell the truth, I have a tender spot in my heart for the late M. Sambor. This Little-Russian, a former telegraph operator, polished and humanized by the six or seven winters that he had passed in St. Petersburg—can it be that blind Nature had chosen this man to be the intermediary between our world and the doubtful Beyond?—or, at least, another world of beings whose precise nature (begging the pardon of the spirits) would be an enigma to me, provided I positively believed in them.It is with that word "doubt" (alas! is notdoubtthe mostcertainresult of mediumistic experiments?) that I end this Report.
1. A cedar apple, an old copper coin which was found to be a Persian coin of 1723, and an amateur photographic portrait of a young woman in mourning unknown to anybody present were found (coming from nobody knew where, nor in what way), upon the table about which we were seated.
2. Several different objects in the room were transported to the table by the mysterious force; such, for example, as a thermometer, which had been hung on the wall behind the piano at a distance of from one-half to seven feet from the medium; a large lantern placed upon the piano somewhere between two and four feet behind the medium; several piles of music-books which had rested on the same piano; a framed portrait; and, finally, the candlesconce, the candle, and the different parts of a candlestick belonging to the piano.
3. Several times a bronze bell placed on the table was lifted into the air by the mysterious force and noisily rung. On the request of the sitters it was once carried over to the piano (against which it struck a sounding blow), and from there again over to the table.
4. Unoccupied chairs had been placed behind the medium. One of them was several times lifted and placed noisily on the table in the midst of the sitters, and without having run against any of them. When upon the table, this chair several times moved about, fell over, and picked itself up.
5. One of these same chairs was found to be hung by the back upon the joined hands of the medium and M. de Poggenpohl. Before the beginning of that part of the séance which witnessed this phenomenon, a strip of cloth, slipped over the sleeves of the medium, had been several times tightly twisted around the wrists of M. de Poggenpohl.
6. At the request of the sitters, the mysterious force several times stopped the playing of the music-box (it stood on the table around which we were seated), after which it began to play again.
7. A sheet of paper and a lead pencil, placed on the table, were thrown on the floor, and everybody distinctly heard the pencil moving over the paper with a heavy pressure and, with a sharp tap, putting a period at the end of what hadbeen written. After this the pencil was laid on the table.
8. Five of the experimenters declared that they had been touched by some mysterious hand.
9. Twice the mysterious force drew sounds from the piano. The first time, this took place when the lid of the piano was open. The second time, the sounds were heard after the lid had beenlocked with a key, the key remaining on the table in the midst of the circle of experimenters. At first the unknown force began to play a melody on the high notes, and two or three times produced trills. Then chords on the bass notes were heard at the same time with the melody, and, when the piano was playing, the music-box also began to play, both performances lasting several minutes.
10. During all the phenomena which have just been described, the medium (Sambor), seemed sunk in a profound trance, and remained almost motionless. The phenomena were not accompanied by any bustle or confusion. His hands and his feet were all the time controlled by his neighbors. M. de Poggenpohl and Loris-Melikow several times saw something long, black, and slender detaching itself from him during the phenomena and moving toward the objects.
I will add, in closing (says M. Petrovo Solovovo), that this medium was accused of cupidity and intemperance. These séances were the last he gave (he died a few months afterward). But, to tell the truth, I have a tender spot in my heart for the late M. Sambor. This Little-Russian, a former telegraph operator, polished and humanized by the six or seven winters that he had passed in St. Petersburg—can it be that blind Nature had chosen this man to be the intermediary between our world and the doubtful Beyond?—or, at least, another world of beings whose precise nature (begging the pardon of the spirits) would be an enigma to me, provided I positively believed in them.
It is with that word "doubt" (alas! is notdoubtthe mostcertainresult of mediumistic experiments?) that I end this Report.
To this whole series of varied observations and experiments we could still add many more. In 1905 MM. CharlesRichet and Gabriel Delanne held some famous séances in Algiers. But is not impossible that fraud may have crept into their experiments, in spite of all the precautions taken by them. (The photographs of the phantom Bien-Boa have an artificial look.) In 1906, the American medium, Miller, gave in Paris several séances in which it really seems as if true apparitions were manifested. I cannot say anything personally about it, not having been present. Among other experimenters, there were two very competent ones, who studied this medium; namely, MM. G. Delanne and G. Méry. The first concludes that the apparitions were what they represented themselves to be (seeRevue scientifique et morale du spiritisme); that is to say, the spirits of the departed. The second, on the other hand, declares inL'Echo du Merveilleux, that, "until there is fuller information, we must be satisfied with not comprehending."
It is not within the scope of my plan to discuss in this particular place, "apparitions" or "materializations." We may ask ourselves whether the fluid which certainly emanates from the medium may not produce a kind of condensation able to furnish to the most interested observer of the manifestation the elusive vision of an unreal personality which, besides, only lasts, as a general thing, for a few seconds. Is it a melange or combination of fluids? But it is not yet time to make hypotheses.
MY GENERAL INQUIRY RESPECTING OBSERVATIONS OF UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA
A certain number of my readers perhaps remember the general inquiry that I instituted in the course of the year 1899 respecting observation of the unexplained phenomena of telepathy, manifestations of the dying, premonitory dreams, etc.—an inquiry published in part in my workL'Inconnu et les problémes psychiques. I received 4280 replies composed of 2456noand 1824yes. Among the latter there are 1758 letters with more or less of detail. A large number of these were not presented in such a shape that their claims could be discussed. But I was able to use 786 of the most important of them. They were classified, the essential matters transcribed, and summed up in the work of which I have just spoken. The most striking thing in all these accounts is the loyalty, conscientiousness, the frankness, and the sensitive refinement of the narrators, who are anxiously concerned to say only what they know, and as they know it, without adding or subtracting anything. In doing this, each becomes the servant of truth.
These 786 letters, transcribed, classified, and numbered, contained 1130 different facts or observations. My examination of the instances recorded in the letters reveals several kinds of subjects which may be classified as follows:
Manifestations and Apparitions of the Dying.Manifestations of the Living (in Health).Manifestations and Apparitions of the Dead.Clairvoyance.Premonitory Dreams. Forecast of the Future.Dreams that give Information of the Dead.Meetings foreseen by Presentiment.Presentiments realized.Doubles of the Living.Communications of Thought at a Distance (Telepathy).Instinctive Presentiments of Animals.Calls heard at Great Distances.Movements of Objects without Apparent Cause.Bolted Doors Opening of Themselves.Haunted Houses.Spiritualistic Experiments.
Since my first publication of these documents, I have received many new ones. More than one thousand are to-day crowded into my manuscript library. They contain about fifteen hundred observations which seem to me to be sincere and authentic. The doubtful ones have been eliminated. These narratives emanate as a general thing from persons who are filled with astonishment and are extremely desirous of receiving, if possible, an explanation of these strange events (often very affecting). All the narratives which I have been able to verify have been found to be fundamentally accurate—sometimes modified afterwards, as respects their mere form, by a memory more or less confused.
InL'Inconnu, I published a portion of these narratives. But I excluded from that work[75]phenomena not properly included within the limits of its main plan, which was to show the existence of unknown faculties of the soul.
I excluded, I say, "movements of objects without apparent cause," "bolted doors opening of themselves," "haunted houses," "Spiritualistic experiments;" that is to say, the very cases studied in the present work, in which I hoped tobe able to publish them. But space fails me. In my desire to offer to my readers a set of records as complete as possible, for the purpose of giving them a firmly based opinion, I have been swamped by the abundance of material, and, can only rescue a few of the most interesting specimens of them for presentation here.
First of all, I select the following communication as having a certain intrinsic value. It was sent me by my regretted friend Victorin Joncières, the well-known composer of music.
I was on a tour of inspection of the music-schools of the Provinces (he says), and happened to be in a city which I cannot name to you for the reasons which I gave. I was coming out of the branch establishment of our Conservatory, after having examined the piano-class there, when I was addressed by a lady who asked me what I thought of her daughter, and whether I judged that she ought to enter upon an artistic career.After a rather long conversation, in the course of which I promised to go to hear the young artist, I found myself engaged to go the same evening (for I was leaving the next day) to the house of one of their friends, a high official in the state service, to take part in a Spiritualistic séance.The master of the house received me with extreme cordialty, recalling the promise I had given him to keep secret his name and that of the city in which he lived. He presented his niece,the medium, to whom he attributes the phenomena which take place in his house. It was, in fact, after the young girl's mother had died, and she came to live with him, that the strange occurrences began to take place.They began with unusual noises in the walls, and in the floors, with the displacement of articles of furniture that moved without being touched, and with the warblings of birds. M. N. at first believed that it was a piece of foolery planned either by one of his own family or by one of his clerks. However, in spite of the most vigilant watching, he could not discover any trickery, and he finally came to theconclusion that the phenomena were produced, by invisible agents, with whom he believed he could communicate. He soon obtained raps, direct writing, the mysterious appearance of flowers, etc.After this account, he led me into a large room with bare walls, in which several persons had assembled, among whom were his wife and a professor of natural philosophy at the lyceum—altogether, a dozen of experimenters. In the middle of the room there was a big oak table, upon which were placed paper, a pencil, a small harmonica, a bell, and a lighted lamp."The spirit announced to me a little while ago that he would come at ten o'clock," said the gentleman to me. "We have a good hour before us. I am going to utilize it by reading to you the minutes of our meetings for a year past." He laid on the table his watch, which showed five minutes to nine, and covered it with a handkerchief.For a whole hour he applied himself to reading what seemed to be very improbable stories; but I was longing to see some of the wonders.Suddenly a loud cracking sound was heard in the table. M. N. lifted the handkerchief which covered the watch. It was just ten o'clock."Art thou there, spirit?" said he.Nobody was touching the table; and on his recommendation, we formed the chain about it, holding each other by the hand.A vigorous rap was heard.The young niece placed her two fingers against the edge of the table and asked us to imitate her. Thereupon this extremely heavy table rose up wellabove our heads, in such a way that we were obliged to stand on tip-toe in order to follow it in its ascent. It hung poised for some moments in the air and then slowly descended to the floor and came to a stop without noise.Then M. N. went to look up a large design for a church window. He put it on the table and placed beside it a glass of water, a box of colors, and a camel's hair brush. Then he put the lamp out. He lighted it again at the end of two or three minutes: the sketch (still damp) was painted intwo colors, yellow and blue, and not a single brush mark had passed beyond the traced lines of the sketch.Even if we admit that some one of the sitters might have been able to play the rôle of spirit, how, in the darkness of the room, could he have so handled the brush as to precisely follow the lines of the design? I will add that the door was closely shut, and, that, during the very short space of time in which the performance took place, I heard nothing but the sound of the water splashing in the glass.Raps were next struck in the table, corresponding to the letters of the alphabet. The spirit announced that he was going to produce a special phenomenon in order to convince me personally.By his order the light was again extinguished. The harmonica then played a little sprightlymotif, in six-eight. Scarcely had the last note sounded when M. X. lighted the lamp. Upon a sheet of music-paper which had been placed near the harmonica, the theme was written very correctly in pencil. It would have been impossible for any one of the company, in the complete darkness of the room, to write down these notes upon the ruled staff-lines.Thirteen freshly cut daisies lay scattered over the table."Hello!" says M. X. "these are daisies from the flower-pot at the end of the passageway."As I said a moment ago, the door of the room where we were met had remained closed, and no one had stirred. We went into the passageway, and, on noticing the stems denuded of their flowers, we could see very plainly that the daisies came from the place indicated.Scarcely had we entered the room, when the bell on the table rose up to the very ceiling, ringing as it went, but fell abruptly back as soon as it touched it.On the next day, before my departure, I went to pay a visit to M. X. He received me in his dining-hall. Through the large open window a beautiful June sun flooded the room with its brilliant light.While we were conversing in a desultory way, a piece of military music rang out in the distance. "If there is a spirit here," said I, smiling, "it ought by rights to accompanythe music." At once rhythmic taps, in exact harmony with the double quick time, were heard in the table. The crackle of sounds in it died away little by little in a decrescendo very skilfully timed to the last vanishing blare of the bugles."Give us a fine tattoo to finish," said I, when the sounds had completely ceased. The reply was a series of sounds like the heavy roll of drums, given with such force that the table trembled on its legs. I put my hand on it and very plainly felt the vibrations of the wood as it was struck by the invisible force.I asked if I might inspect the table. It was turned upside down in my presence, and I examined it, as well as the floor, very carefully. I discovered nothing. Besides, M. X. could not, you know, foresee, that, during my visit, a military band would pass by, and that I should ask the table to accompany it by imitating the drum.I afterwards returned to the city where these things occurred and was present at other very curious séances. I should be enchanted, my dear master and friend, as I have said to you, to be your guide there some day. But this "high functionary" absolutely insists on his incognito.
I was on a tour of inspection of the music-schools of the Provinces (he says), and happened to be in a city which I cannot name to you for the reasons which I gave. I was coming out of the branch establishment of our Conservatory, after having examined the piano-class there, when I was addressed by a lady who asked me what I thought of her daughter, and whether I judged that she ought to enter upon an artistic career.
After a rather long conversation, in the course of which I promised to go to hear the young artist, I found myself engaged to go the same evening (for I was leaving the next day) to the house of one of their friends, a high official in the state service, to take part in a Spiritualistic séance.
The master of the house received me with extreme cordialty, recalling the promise I had given him to keep secret his name and that of the city in which he lived. He presented his niece,the medium, to whom he attributes the phenomena which take place in his house. It was, in fact, after the young girl's mother had died, and she came to live with him, that the strange occurrences began to take place.
They began with unusual noises in the walls, and in the floors, with the displacement of articles of furniture that moved without being touched, and with the warblings of birds. M. N. at first believed that it was a piece of foolery planned either by one of his own family or by one of his clerks. However, in spite of the most vigilant watching, he could not discover any trickery, and he finally came to theconclusion that the phenomena were produced, by invisible agents, with whom he believed he could communicate. He soon obtained raps, direct writing, the mysterious appearance of flowers, etc.
After this account, he led me into a large room with bare walls, in which several persons had assembled, among whom were his wife and a professor of natural philosophy at the lyceum—altogether, a dozen of experimenters. In the middle of the room there was a big oak table, upon which were placed paper, a pencil, a small harmonica, a bell, and a lighted lamp.
"The spirit announced to me a little while ago that he would come at ten o'clock," said the gentleman to me. "We have a good hour before us. I am going to utilize it by reading to you the minutes of our meetings for a year past." He laid on the table his watch, which showed five minutes to nine, and covered it with a handkerchief.
For a whole hour he applied himself to reading what seemed to be very improbable stories; but I was longing to see some of the wonders.
Suddenly a loud cracking sound was heard in the table. M. N. lifted the handkerchief which covered the watch. It was just ten o'clock.
"Art thou there, spirit?" said he.
Nobody was touching the table; and on his recommendation, we formed the chain about it, holding each other by the hand.
A vigorous rap was heard.
The young niece placed her two fingers against the edge of the table and asked us to imitate her. Thereupon this extremely heavy table rose up wellabove our heads, in such a way that we were obliged to stand on tip-toe in order to follow it in its ascent. It hung poised for some moments in the air and then slowly descended to the floor and came to a stop without noise.
Then M. N. went to look up a large design for a church window. He put it on the table and placed beside it a glass of water, a box of colors, and a camel's hair brush. Then he put the lamp out. He lighted it again at the end of two or three minutes: the sketch (still damp) was painted intwo colors, yellow and blue, and not a single brush mark had passed beyond the traced lines of the sketch.
Even if we admit that some one of the sitters might have been able to play the rôle of spirit, how, in the darkness of the room, could he have so handled the brush as to precisely follow the lines of the design? I will add that the door was closely shut, and, that, during the very short space of time in which the performance took place, I heard nothing but the sound of the water splashing in the glass.
Raps were next struck in the table, corresponding to the letters of the alphabet. The spirit announced that he was going to produce a special phenomenon in order to convince me personally.
By his order the light was again extinguished. The harmonica then played a little sprightlymotif, in six-eight. Scarcely had the last note sounded when M. X. lighted the lamp. Upon a sheet of music-paper which had been placed near the harmonica, the theme was written very correctly in pencil. It would have been impossible for any one of the company, in the complete darkness of the room, to write down these notes upon the ruled staff-lines.
Thirteen freshly cut daisies lay scattered over the table.
"Hello!" says M. X. "these are daisies from the flower-pot at the end of the passageway."
As I said a moment ago, the door of the room where we were met had remained closed, and no one had stirred. We went into the passageway, and, on noticing the stems denuded of their flowers, we could see very plainly that the daisies came from the place indicated.
Scarcely had we entered the room, when the bell on the table rose up to the very ceiling, ringing as it went, but fell abruptly back as soon as it touched it.
On the next day, before my departure, I went to pay a visit to M. X. He received me in his dining-hall. Through the large open window a beautiful June sun flooded the room with its brilliant light.
While we were conversing in a desultory way, a piece of military music rang out in the distance. "If there is a spirit here," said I, smiling, "it ought by rights to accompanythe music." At once rhythmic taps, in exact harmony with the double quick time, were heard in the table. The crackle of sounds in it died away little by little in a decrescendo very skilfully timed to the last vanishing blare of the bugles.
"Give us a fine tattoo to finish," said I, when the sounds had completely ceased. The reply was a series of sounds like the heavy roll of drums, given with such force that the table trembled on its legs. I put my hand on it and very plainly felt the vibrations of the wood as it was struck by the invisible force.
I asked if I might inspect the table. It was turned upside down in my presence, and I examined it, as well as the floor, very carefully. I discovered nothing. Besides, M. X. could not, you know, foresee, that, during my visit, a military band would pass by, and that I should ask the table to accompany it by imitating the drum.
I afterwards returned to the city where these things occurred and was present at other very curious séances. I should be enchanted, my dear master and friend, as I have said to you, to be your guide there some day. But this "high functionary" absolutely insists on his incognito.
These remarkable observations by my friend Joncières evidently have their value, and belong here, in the train of all the preceding ones.
I give a few others below which we owe to an attentive and sceptical observer, M. Castex-Dégrange, sub-director of the National School Of Fine Arts at Lyons, upon whose veracity and sincerity not the least shadow of suspicion can rest, any more than in the preceding instances. I owe to his kindness a large number of interesting letters, and I will ask his permission to cite from them the most important passages.
The following is dated the 18th of April, 1899.
For the second time, I affirm upon my honor that I will tell you nothing that is not strictly true, and usually easy to verify.In spite of the calling I follow, I am not at all gifted with imagination. I have lived much in the company of physicians, men from the nature of their profession little given to credulity; and, whether it is in consequence of my natural disposition, or by reason of the principles which I absorbed in this kind of company, I have always been very sceptical.This is, indeed, one of the reasons why I abandoned my psychical experiments. I reached the most stupifying results, and yet it was impossible for me to get to believe myself. I was thoroughly convinced that I was not seeking to deceive myself or to deceive others, and, not being able to surrender myself to the evidence, I was always seeking some other reason than the one given by the believers. That made me suffer, and I stopped.I here end this preamble, and am going to unfold to you the course of my observations.I was acquainted with a company of people, who were occupied with Spiritualism and with turning-tables, and had made them the butt of my wit,[76]a little; for, although not bitter or severe, I never neglected to play a good practical joke on them when occasion served.It seemed to me that these worthy people, who were, moreover, very sincere, were all a little "cracked" (maboules), if I may be allowed so uncouth, orfin de siècle, an expression.One day I was visiting them. The drawing-room was lighted by two large windows. I began, as usual, by some pleasantries. Their reply was in the shape of an invitation to me to take part in the experiments."But," said I, "if I take a seat at your table it will not turn any more, because I shall not push it.""Come all the same."Well, I declare upon my honor that, just for a joke, I tried it. I had scarcely put my hands on the table when it made a rush at me.I said to the person facing me, "Don't push so hard.""But, dear sir, I was not pushing."I put the centre-table back in its place, but the same thing occurred again, once, twice, thrice. I began to get impatient and said,"What you are doing is not very clever. If you want to convince me, don't push."He replied to me, "Nobody is pushing, only you probably have so much fluid in you that the table is attracted toward you.Perhaps you could make it go, by yourself.""Oh, if I myself could make it go, that would be different!""Try it."They all moved back. I remained alone face to face with the table. I took hold of it, lifted it, thoroughly examined it. There was no trick about it. I made every body go behind me. I was facing the windows, and had my eyes open, I assure you. I stretched my arms out as far as possible, in order to have a good view, only placing the ends of my fingers on the table.In a little less than two minutes it began to rock to and fro. I confess that I felt a little foolish, not wishing to surrender—"Yes, perhaps it moves," said I. "It is possible that an unknown fluid is acting upon it; at any rate, it does not come toward me, and just now some one was pushing it.""No," said one of the sitters, "nobody was pushing it; but, although you are highly charged with fluid, the assistance of another person is needed for the production of the phenomenon: you are not enough by yourself. Will you allow one of us to put a handuponyours, without touching the table?""Yes."Someone put a hand on mine andI watched. The table at once began to move, and came and pressed against me. They all cried out, and claimed that they had caught a medium in me. I was not very much flattered with the title, which I considered as synonymous with "lunatic.""You ought to try to write," said some one to me."What do you mean by that?""Why, see here. You take paper and pen, let your armlie passive, and have the wish in your mind thatsome unknown person or forceshall cause you to write."I tried it. At the end of five minutes, my arm felt as if it were wrapped in a woolen blanket. Then, in spite of myself, my hand began to trace at first mere strokes, theno's,a's, letters of all sorts, as a schoolboy learning to write would do. Then, all of a sudden, came the notorious word attributed to Cambronne at Waterloo! I assure you, my dear sir, that I am never in the habit of using this coarse and dirty term, and that there was no auto-suggestion, or unconscious act of my own, in the case. I was absolutelystupefiedby the occurrence.I continued these experiments at my own home.1. One day, when I was seated at my writing-desk, I felt the weird seizure in my arm. I let my arm remain passive. The Unknown wrote:"Your friend Aroud is coming to see you. He is at this moment in such and such an omnibus-office in the suburbs. He is asking the price of tickets and the hour of departure."(This M. Aroud is chief of the bureau of police, prefecture of the Rhone.) In fact, a half-hour afterwards, Aroud made his appearance. I told him what had taken place."It is a good thing for you that you are living in the nineteenth century," said he to me. "A few hundred years ago you would not have escaped death at the stake."2. On another occasion the phenomenon occurred again, and this time also I was at my writing desk:"Your friend Dolard is coming to see you."An hour afterward, sure enough he came. I told him how it happened that I was waiting for him. Although he was very incredulous by nature, yet, for all that, this fact set him to thinking. The next day saw his re-appearance."Can you get a reply to a question I am going to ask you?" said he."Don't ask," I replied, "think it. We will try."I must here tell you parenthetically that I had known of Dolard for thirty years. He was my comrade at the Beaux-Arts. I knew that he had lost an elder brother, that he had been married, and had had the misfortune to lose, oneby one, all the members of his family. That was all I knew about them.I took the pen and the Invisible wrote, "The sufferings of your sister Sophia have just ended."Now Dolard had mentally asked what had become of the spirit of a sister named Sophia, whom he had lost forty-two years ago, and about whom I had never heard a word spoken.3. My principal at the School of Fine Arts in Lyons, a former architect of the city of Paris, was M. Hédin. This M. Hédin had an only daughter, who some years ago had married another architect, M. Forget, in Paris. The woman became enceinte.One day when I was thinking of anything but her, the same thing occurred as before. The Invisible wrote:"Mme. Forget is going to die."Mme. Forget was not at all ill, apart from her being in a delicate situation. The next day morning, M. Hédin said to me that his daughter was in her pains; and the same evening he told me that his wife had just set out for Paris to be with her. The next day I received instructions to assume his duties. Mme. Hédin had telegraphed to her husband to come to her. Her daughter was taken with puerperal fever. When the father got there he found only a corpse.4. I had a cousin named Poncet (since dead) who was formerly an apothecary, at Beaune (Côte-d' Or). I had never been at his apartments. One day he came to Lyons to see our aunt (she who had the vision about which I spoke to you). We conversed about these extraordinary psychical occurrences. He was incredulous."Well then," said he, "try to find for me a thing which has no particular market value, but which I laid great store by, because it belonged to my deceased wife. I had a little packet of laces that she was very fond of, and I can't put my hand on it."The Unknown wrote, "It is in the middle drawer of the secretary in the chamber, behind a package of visiting cards."My cousin wrote to his servant at Beaune,without giving her any hint of our experiment, "Send by post a little packet which you will find in [such a place] behind a package of visiting cards."The laces arrived by return mail.You will notice, my dear sir, that, during the experiments, I was by no means asleep or in a state of trance, and that I was conversing in my usual manner.5. One of my childhood friends, M. Laloge, at the present time a dealer in coffees and chocolates at Saint-Etienne (Loire), had had as his professor, as well as I, an excellent man whom we most highly esteemed, and who was named Thollon.[77]M. Thollon, after having directed the education of the children of the Prince of Oldenburg, uncle of the present emperor of Russia, had returned to France and entered the Nice Observatory.We had the misfortune to lose him shortly after. Laloge had a photograph of him but had lost it. He came and begged me to try to find it. The Unknown wrote, "The photograph is in the upper drawer of the secretary in the chamber."Laloge had two rooms,—one which he called the "salon," and another called the "chamber.""There is some mistake," said he. "I have turned everything topsy-turvy in the place you mention and have found nothing."In the evening having to search for some object in the drawer, he saw in the middle of a package of letter-paper a little dark end of something sticking out. He pulled it forth: it was the photograph.6. Camille Bellon, No. 50 Avenue de Noailles, at Lyons, had three young children whose education he had intrusted to a young governess. This person left when the children entered college, and, sometime after, she married a very fine man, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten, but which I can easily find again if there is any need of it.This young woman came on her wedding trip to visit her old employer. I was invited to go and pass a day with them at the château of my friend Bellon. During the course of this visit, we talked of spiritualistic phenomena; and thenewly married man, a highly educated veterinary doctor, joked me about my so-called mediumship. I, of course, laughed about it and we parted the best kind of friends.Some days afterward, I received a letter from my friend. He had himself received a letter from the young lady, who was in a great state of mind. She had lost her wedding ring, and was in despair. She begged my friend to ask me to recover it for her.The Mysterious Force wrote, "The ring slipped from her finger while she was asleep. It is on one of the cleats which hold up the mattress of the bed."I transmitted thedespatch. The husband put his hands between the wood of the bed and the mattress. The wife did the same thing. Nothing was found. Some days afterwards, having decided to change the arrangement of their apartments, they moved their bed into another room. Of course they had to lift up the mattress, in order to get it into the other chamber. The ring was upon one of the cleats. They had not found it when they were hunting for it, because it had slippedunderthe mattress, which did not adhere to the cleat in that particular place.7. One of my friends, named Boucaut, who lived at 15 quai de la Guillotière at Lyons, had lost a letter which he sadly wanted. He begged me to ask where it was.The Invisible replied in writing, "He must remember that he has an oven in his garden."Before showing it to him, I began to laugh, saying that it was a joke and had nothing to do with his request. As he insisted that it did, I read it to him."Why yes," he said to me, "that agrees very well. My tenant-farmer had just had his bread baked. I had heaps of papers which I wanted to get rid of, to burn up. My letter must have been burned in the pile which I reduced to ashes."8. One evening, in an assembly composed of a score of persons, a lady dressed in black greeted my entrance with a little nervous laugh. After the customary introductions, this lady spoke to me as follows:"Sir, would it be possible to ask your spirits to reply to a question I am going to ask you?""In the first place, madam, I have no spirits at mydisposal; but I should be a lack-wit indeed if I said yes. You, of course, don't suppose that I am unintelligent enough not to find some kind of an answer; and, consequently, if any 'spirits,' as you so kindly call them should happen to respond, you would not be convinced, and you would be right. Write your request. Put it in an envelope there on the table and we will try. You see that I am not in a somnambulistic state, and you must believe that it is wholly impossible for me to know the contents of what you are going to enclose in it."So said, so done.At the end of five minutes I assure you I was very much embarrassed. I had written a reply, but it was such that I did not dare to communicate it. But here it is:"You are in a very bad way, and, if you persist, you will be severely punished. Marriage is something sacred, it should never be regarded as a question of money."After some oratorical precautions, I decided to read her this reply. The lady blushed up to the roots of her hair and stretched out her hands to seize her envelope."Pardon me, madam," I replied, putting my hand upon it. "You began by making fun of me. You wished a reply. It is only just, since we are making an experiment, that we know what the request was."I tore open the envelope. Behold its contents:"Will the marriage take place that I am trying to bring about between M. X. and Mlle. Z? And, in that case, shall I get what I have been promised?"Notwithstanding this shameful exposure, the woman did not consider that she was beaten. She asked a second question under the same conditions.Reply: "Leave me alone! When I was living you abandoned me. Now don't bother me."Upon this, the lady got up and disappeared! I told you she was in mourning. This last request of hers was as follows: "What has become of the soul of my father?"Her father had been ill for six months. Persons who were present and who were stupefied at the results, told me that during his illness she had not paid him a single visit.9. One day, shortly after I had lost one of my good friends,I was seated at my writing-desk with my head resting on my hand, and I was thinking of what the hereafter might possibly be. If all the work that a man had done was to be irretrievably lost, and if the beyond existed, I was wondering what the life might be that one would lead there. All of a sudden, the phenomenon well known to me occurred (that weird seizure of the arm). Of course, I allowed my arm to remain passive, and here is what I read:"You wish to know what our occupations are? We organize matter, we ameliorate the condition of the spirits, and, above all, we adore the Creator of your souls and ours."Arago.Inallthe communications which I have obtained, every time a word representing an idea of the Supreme Being—such as God, the All-Powerful, etc.—came under my pen, the writing doubled in size, but immediately after resumed the same dimensions as before.[78]It would be very easy for me to give you still more numerous examples of the strange things that happened to me, but those I have given seem to me quite remarkable. I shall be happy if this true account can give you any assistance in your important researches.
For the second time, I affirm upon my honor that I will tell you nothing that is not strictly true, and usually easy to verify.
In spite of the calling I follow, I am not at all gifted with imagination. I have lived much in the company of physicians, men from the nature of their profession little given to credulity; and, whether it is in consequence of my natural disposition, or by reason of the principles which I absorbed in this kind of company, I have always been very sceptical.
This is, indeed, one of the reasons why I abandoned my psychical experiments. I reached the most stupifying results, and yet it was impossible for me to get to believe myself. I was thoroughly convinced that I was not seeking to deceive myself or to deceive others, and, not being able to surrender myself to the evidence, I was always seeking some other reason than the one given by the believers. That made me suffer, and I stopped.
I here end this preamble, and am going to unfold to you the course of my observations.
I was acquainted with a company of people, who were occupied with Spiritualism and with turning-tables, and had made them the butt of my wit,[76]a little; for, although not bitter or severe, I never neglected to play a good practical joke on them when occasion served.
It seemed to me that these worthy people, who were, moreover, very sincere, were all a little "cracked" (maboules), if I may be allowed so uncouth, orfin de siècle, an expression.
One day I was visiting them. The drawing-room was lighted by two large windows. I began, as usual, by some pleasantries. Their reply was in the shape of an invitation to me to take part in the experiments.
"But," said I, "if I take a seat at your table it will not turn any more, because I shall not push it."
"Come all the same."
Well, I declare upon my honor that, just for a joke, I tried it. I had scarcely put my hands on the table when it made a rush at me.
I said to the person facing me, "Don't push so hard."
"But, dear sir, I was not pushing."
I put the centre-table back in its place, but the same thing occurred again, once, twice, thrice. I began to get impatient and said,
"What you are doing is not very clever. If you want to convince me, don't push."
He replied to me, "Nobody is pushing, only you probably have so much fluid in you that the table is attracted toward you.Perhaps you could make it go, by yourself."
"Oh, if I myself could make it go, that would be different!"
"Try it."
They all moved back. I remained alone face to face with the table. I took hold of it, lifted it, thoroughly examined it. There was no trick about it. I made every body go behind me. I was facing the windows, and had my eyes open, I assure you. I stretched my arms out as far as possible, in order to have a good view, only placing the ends of my fingers on the table.
In a little less than two minutes it began to rock to and fro. I confess that I felt a little foolish, not wishing to surrender—
"Yes, perhaps it moves," said I. "It is possible that an unknown fluid is acting upon it; at any rate, it does not come toward me, and just now some one was pushing it."
"No," said one of the sitters, "nobody was pushing it; but, although you are highly charged with fluid, the assistance of another person is needed for the production of the phenomenon: you are not enough by yourself. Will you allow one of us to put a handuponyours, without touching the table?"
"Yes."
Someone put a hand on mine andI watched. The table at once began to move, and came and pressed against me. They all cried out, and claimed that they had caught a medium in me. I was not very much flattered with the title, which I considered as synonymous with "lunatic."
"You ought to try to write," said some one to me.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why, see here. You take paper and pen, let your armlie passive, and have the wish in your mind thatsome unknown person or forceshall cause you to write."
I tried it. At the end of five minutes, my arm felt as if it were wrapped in a woolen blanket. Then, in spite of myself, my hand began to trace at first mere strokes, theno's,a's, letters of all sorts, as a schoolboy learning to write would do. Then, all of a sudden, came the notorious word attributed to Cambronne at Waterloo! I assure you, my dear sir, that I am never in the habit of using this coarse and dirty term, and that there was no auto-suggestion, or unconscious act of my own, in the case. I was absolutelystupefiedby the occurrence.
I continued these experiments at my own home.
1. One day, when I was seated at my writing-desk, I felt the weird seizure in my arm. I let my arm remain passive. The Unknown wrote:
"Your friend Aroud is coming to see you. He is at this moment in such and such an omnibus-office in the suburbs. He is asking the price of tickets and the hour of departure."
(This M. Aroud is chief of the bureau of police, prefecture of the Rhone.) In fact, a half-hour afterwards, Aroud made his appearance. I told him what had taken place.
"It is a good thing for you that you are living in the nineteenth century," said he to me. "A few hundred years ago you would not have escaped death at the stake."
2. On another occasion the phenomenon occurred again, and this time also I was at my writing desk:
"Your friend Dolard is coming to see you."
An hour afterward, sure enough he came. I told him how it happened that I was waiting for him. Although he was very incredulous by nature, yet, for all that, this fact set him to thinking. The next day saw his re-appearance.
"Can you get a reply to a question I am going to ask you?" said he.
"Don't ask," I replied, "think it. We will try."
I must here tell you parenthetically that I had known of Dolard for thirty years. He was my comrade at the Beaux-Arts. I knew that he had lost an elder brother, that he had been married, and had had the misfortune to lose, oneby one, all the members of his family. That was all I knew about them.
I took the pen and the Invisible wrote, "The sufferings of your sister Sophia have just ended."
Now Dolard had mentally asked what had become of the spirit of a sister named Sophia, whom he had lost forty-two years ago, and about whom I had never heard a word spoken.
3. My principal at the School of Fine Arts in Lyons, a former architect of the city of Paris, was M. Hédin. This M. Hédin had an only daughter, who some years ago had married another architect, M. Forget, in Paris. The woman became enceinte.
One day when I was thinking of anything but her, the same thing occurred as before. The Invisible wrote:
"Mme. Forget is going to die."
Mme. Forget was not at all ill, apart from her being in a delicate situation. The next day morning, M. Hédin said to me that his daughter was in her pains; and the same evening he told me that his wife had just set out for Paris to be with her. The next day I received instructions to assume his duties. Mme. Hédin had telegraphed to her husband to come to her. Her daughter was taken with puerperal fever. When the father got there he found only a corpse.
4. I had a cousin named Poncet (since dead) who was formerly an apothecary, at Beaune (Côte-d' Or). I had never been at his apartments. One day he came to Lyons to see our aunt (she who had the vision about which I spoke to you). We conversed about these extraordinary psychical occurrences. He was incredulous.
"Well then," said he, "try to find for me a thing which has no particular market value, but which I laid great store by, because it belonged to my deceased wife. I had a little packet of laces that she was very fond of, and I can't put my hand on it."
The Unknown wrote, "It is in the middle drawer of the secretary in the chamber, behind a package of visiting cards."
My cousin wrote to his servant at Beaune,without giving her any hint of our experiment, "Send by post a little packet which you will find in [such a place] behind a package of visiting cards."
The laces arrived by return mail.
You will notice, my dear sir, that, during the experiments, I was by no means asleep or in a state of trance, and that I was conversing in my usual manner.
5. One of my childhood friends, M. Laloge, at the present time a dealer in coffees and chocolates at Saint-Etienne (Loire), had had as his professor, as well as I, an excellent man whom we most highly esteemed, and who was named Thollon.[77]
M. Thollon, after having directed the education of the children of the Prince of Oldenburg, uncle of the present emperor of Russia, had returned to France and entered the Nice Observatory.
We had the misfortune to lose him shortly after. Laloge had a photograph of him but had lost it. He came and begged me to try to find it. The Unknown wrote, "The photograph is in the upper drawer of the secretary in the chamber."
Laloge had two rooms,—one which he called the "salon," and another called the "chamber."
"There is some mistake," said he. "I have turned everything topsy-turvy in the place you mention and have found nothing."
In the evening having to search for some object in the drawer, he saw in the middle of a package of letter-paper a little dark end of something sticking out. He pulled it forth: it was the photograph.
6. Camille Bellon, No. 50 Avenue de Noailles, at Lyons, had three young children whose education he had intrusted to a young governess. This person left when the children entered college, and, sometime after, she married a very fine man, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten, but which I can easily find again if there is any need of it.
This young woman came on her wedding trip to visit her old employer. I was invited to go and pass a day with them at the château of my friend Bellon. During the course of this visit, we talked of spiritualistic phenomena; and thenewly married man, a highly educated veterinary doctor, joked me about my so-called mediumship. I, of course, laughed about it and we parted the best kind of friends.
Some days afterward, I received a letter from my friend. He had himself received a letter from the young lady, who was in a great state of mind. She had lost her wedding ring, and was in despair. She begged my friend to ask me to recover it for her.
The Mysterious Force wrote, "The ring slipped from her finger while she was asleep. It is on one of the cleats which hold up the mattress of the bed."
I transmitted thedespatch. The husband put his hands between the wood of the bed and the mattress. The wife did the same thing. Nothing was found. Some days afterwards, having decided to change the arrangement of their apartments, they moved their bed into another room. Of course they had to lift up the mattress, in order to get it into the other chamber. The ring was upon one of the cleats. They had not found it when they were hunting for it, because it had slippedunderthe mattress, which did not adhere to the cleat in that particular place.
7. One of my friends, named Boucaut, who lived at 15 quai de la Guillotière at Lyons, had lost a letter which he sadly wanted. He begged me to ask where it was.
The Invisible replied in writing, "He must remember that he has an oven in his garden."
Before showing it to him, I began to laugh, saying that it was a joke and had nothing to do with his request. As he insisted that it did, I read it to him.
"Why yes," he said to me, "that agrees very well. My tenant-farmer had just had his bread baked. I had heaps of papers which I wanted to get rid of, to burn up. My letter must have been burned in the pile which I reduced to ashes."
8. One evening, in an assembly composed of a score of persons, a lady dressed in black greeted my entrance with a little nervous laugh. After the customary introductions, this lady spoke to me as follows:
"Sir, would it be possible to ask your spirits to reply to a question I am going to ask you?"
"In the first place, madam, I have no spirits at mydisposal; but I should be a lack-wit indeed if I said yes. You, of course, don't suppose that I am unintelligent enough not to find some kind of an answer; and, consequently, if any 'spirits,' as you so kindly call them should happen to respond, you would not be convinced, and you would be right. Write your request. Put it in an envelope there on the table and we will try. You see that I am not in a somnambulistic state, and you must believe that it is wholly impossible for me to know the contents of what you are going to enclose in it."
So said, so done.
At the end of five minutes I assure you I was very much embarrassed. I had written a reply, but it was such that I did not dare to communicate it. But here it is:
"You are in a very bad way, and, if you persist, you will be severely punished. Marriage is something sacred, it should never be regarded as a question of money."
After some oratorical precautions, I decided to read her this reply. The lady blushed up to the roots of her hair and stretched out her hands to seize her envelope.
"Pardon me, madam," I replied, putting my hand upon it. "You began by making fun of me. You wished a reply. It is only just, since we are making an experiment, that we know what the request was."
I tore open the envelope. Behold its contents:
"Will the marriage take place that I am trying to bring about between M. X. and Mlle. Z? And, in that case, shall I get what I have been promised?"
Notwithstanding this shameful exposure, the woman did not consider that she was beaten. She asked a second question under the same conditions.
Reply: "Leave me alone! When I was living you abandoned me. Now don't bother me."
Upon this, the lady got up and disappeared! I told you she was in mourning. This last request of hers was as follows: "What has become of the soul of my father?"
Her father had been ill for six months. Persons who were present and who were stupefied at the results, told me that during his illness she had not paid him a single visit.
9. One day, shortly after I had lost one of my good friends,I was seated at my writing-desk with my head resting on my hand, and I was thinking of what the hereafter might possibly be. If all the work that a man had done was to be irretrievably lost, and if the beyond existed, I was wondering what the life might be that one would lead there. All of a sudden, the phenomenon well known to me occurred (that weird seizure of the arm). Of course, I allowed my arm to remain passive, and here is what I read:
"You wish to know what our occupations are? We organize matter, we ameliorate the condition of the spirits, and, above all, we adore the Creator of your souls and ours."Arago.
"You wish to know what our occupations are? We organize matter, we ameliorate the condition of the spirits, and, above all, we adore the Creator of your souls and ours."
Arago.
Inallthe communications which I have obtained, every time a word representing an idea of the Supreme Being—such as God, the All-Powerful, etc.—came under my pen, the writing doubled in size, but immediately after resumed the same dimensions as before.[78]It would be very easy for me to give you still more numerous examples of the strange things that happened to me, but those I have given seem to me quite remarkable. I shall be happy if this true account can give you any assistance in your important researches.
The letter which my readers have just perused contains a series of cases of such great interest that I lost no time in entering into regular correspondence with the author. And first I thought I ought to ask him about the conclusions which he himself had been able to draw from his personal experience. The following is an abstract of his replies:
May 1st, 1899.You ask me, my dear sir, the following questions:1. Whether I have reached absolute conviction as to the existence of one or of severalspirits?I am a person of absolute good faith. I examinedmyself as a surgeon would examine an invalid. I am a person of such good faith that I have long been seeking (without finding him) a skilful practitioner who would consent to study in my own person the phenomenon while it was taking place; to ascertain the state of my pulse, the warmth of the skin, etc.,—in a word, the apparent physical side. Furthermore, in my opinion there is no auto-suggestion in this thing; and the proof is that I wasabsolutely ignorantof the things that I was writingmechanically,—so mechanically that, when, by chance, my attention was called away, whether by reading or by conversation, and I forgot to look where my hand was going, when it approached the edge of the paper the writing would continue backward across the sheet inreversed letters and just as fast, so that I was obliged to turn the paper over in order by holding it to the light to read what was written on it.So then, if there is neither auto-suggestion in it, nor a somnambulistic condition (I was completely awake and not at all hypnotized), then there must be external "forces" acting upon my senses, "intelligent forces." This is my fixed and unalterable opinion.Now are these forces spirits? Do they belong to beings like ourselves? It is evident that this hypothesis would explain many things, but leave quite a number obscure. Since I several times discovered a mental state of the lowest kind among these "beings," I have reached a conclusion that it is not absolutely necessary to think that they are "men."We are told that there are stars which photography alone can reveal, and which, possessing a color imperceptible to our eye, are invisible to us. Then there are the gases through which a human body passes without experiencing resistence. Who will say then, that there are not around us invisible beings?And look at the instinct of the child, of the woman, of feeble beings in general. They fear darkness; isolation makes them afraid. This sentiment is instinctive, irrational. Is it not due to an intuitive perception of the presence of these invisible personages, or forces, against which they are helpless? That is pure hypothesis on mypart, but after all it seems to me defensible. As to the number of the invisible beings, I believe they are legion.2. You ask me whether I have been able to establish their identity.I answer that they sign some name or other, choosing in preference names of illustrious persons, in whose mouths they sometimes put the most stupid sort of expressions.Furthermore the writing frequently ceases abruptly, as if an electric current has just been interrupted, and that without any appreciable reason. Then the writing changes, and sometimes sensible things end in absurdities, etc.How explain this tangle of contradictions? I was so chafed and fretted by these incoherent results that I had for a long time abandoned the study of psychic forces, when your alluring researches came to wake in me my old self.If the unconscious doubling of the personality of the individual (his externalization) can, in an extreme case, be sometimes admitted, it seems to me that there are cases in which this explanation becomes possible.But I will explain. If, as respects the facts which happened to me personally, andthe authenticity of which I affirm to you upon my honor, there are some in which this externalization could have been possible, there are others in which it seems to me impossible.Yes, strictly speaking, I might have been able, without suspecting it, to externalize myself, or, rather, unknown to myself, to be influenced by my friend Dolard when, in my own presence, he mentally asked me what had become of the soul of a deceased sister of whose name and very existence I was ignorant; yes, the same thing may, strictly speaking, explain the responses I made to the lady who questioned me on the subject of a marriage and her father, although it would in that case be necessary to suppose that she dictated to me the words that I was writing; yes, my friend Boucaud, who was hunting letters, might, at the moment when he was asking me about them, have thought of that oven, of the existence of which I was ignorant; yes, all of that is (in the last analysis) possible, although it would need a large amount of good will to admit it.Yes, once more I say—and always with much goodwill—a table may be under the unconscious domination of a musician present and dictate a musical phrase. But, as it stands, it is difficult to admit the same phenomenon in the case of Victor Hugo, whose curious séances you have just described to the public. Why, just look at this great poet who, when he is asked by the table to put one or more questionsin verse, and, not feeling that he is man enough, in spite of his genius, to improvise something passable, asks for a breathing spell to prepare his questions, and brings them in next day!—and yet you would wish that, on this same next day, a part of himself should perform its functions,unknown to himself, and composeillico, without any preparation, verses at least as fine as those which he took an entire day to create!—verses of a pitiless logic and more profound than his own!Yet let us admit even that. You see, dear sir, that I have all the good will possible, and that I have the most profound respect for the scientific method. But can you explain by externalization the case of finding a lost object when one is even ignorant of the way in which the apartment is arranged where it has been lost? or the ability to know, two days in advance, of the death of a person about whom one was not thinking at all? A possible coincidence, you will tell me, but at least very strange.And those inverted dictations? and those in which we are obliged to skip every other letter?No, I believe that we need not give ourselves so much trouble and rack our brains, for it seems to me that it is like looking for mid-day at two o'clock in the afternoon. It would require the labor of all the devils to explain how this phenomenon can take place in our nature without the knowledge of the proprietor. I do not like to see a part of my personality scampering away, and then housing itself again without my knowing anything about it.As to what concerns the production of this externalization in a way which I may call voluntary—when a person who feels himself dying thinks intensely about those whom he loves and whose absence he deplores, yes, it may be that his will, even unknown to himself, suggesting the absentperson produces the phenomena of telepathy; but, in the phenomena of which we are speaking, that explanation seems to me more than doubtful.I find much more simple the explanation that the phenomena are caused by the presence and the action of an independent being,—a spirit, phantasm, or elemental.In fine what are we all seeking? The proof of the survival of the ego, ofthe individualityafter death.To be or not to be—it is all in that. For I frankly confess to you if I am going to dissolve away again into the great All, I should just as soon be annihilated. That is perhaps a weakness; but it cannot be helped. I hold above everything else to my individuality; not that I set a great value on it, but the feeling is instinctive and I believe that at bottom everybody is of this opinion. This then is the goal or end, which at all epochs has powerfully interested man and interests him still to-day.One of the weightiest proofs of the survival of the individual being that I have ever met with is, in my opinion, the vision which my aunt hadseveral daysafter the death of a friend of hers who, in order to give her a proof of the reality of her apparition, inspired in her by mental suggestion the power of seeing her in the dress she had on in her coffin,a costume which my aunt had never seen.This is one of the fine and rare arguments in favor of the survival of the soul, so far as my experience goes. Many things are explained by this survival,—above all, what is apparently the frightful injustice of this world.
May 1st, 1899.
You ask me, my dear sir, the following questions:
1. Whether I have reached absolute conviction as to the existence of one or of severalspirits?
I am a person of absolute good faith. I examinedmyself as a surgeon would examine an invalid. I am a person of such good faith that I have long been seeking (without finding him) a skilful practitioner who would consent to study in my own person the phenomenon while it was taking place; to ascertain the state of my pulse, the warmth of the skin, etc.,—in a word, the apparent physical side. Furthermore, in my opinion there is no auto-suggestion in this thing; and the proof is that I wasabsolutely ignorantof the things that I was writingmechanically,—so mechanically that, when, by chance, my attention was called away, whether by reading or by conversation, and I forgot to look where my hand was going, when it approached the edge of the paper the writing would continue backward across the sheet inreversed letters and just as fast, so that I was obliged to turn the paper over in order by holding it to the light to read what was written on it.
So then, if there is neither auto-suggestion in it, nor a somnambulistic condition (I was completely awake and not at all hypnotized), then there must be external "forces" acting upon my senses, "intelligent forces." This is my fixed and unalterable opinion.
Now are these forces spirits? Do they belong to beings like ourselves? It is evident that this hypothesis would explain many things, but leave quite a number obscure. Since I several times discovered a mental state of the lowest kind among these "beings," I have reached a conclusion that it is not absolutely necessary to think that they are "men."
We are told that there are stars which photography alone can reveal, and which, possessing a color imperceptible to our eye, are invisible to us. Then there are the gases through which a human body passes without experiencing resistence. Who will say then, that there are not around us invisible beings?
And look at the instinct of the child, of the woman, of feeble beings in general. They fear darkness; isolation makes them afraid. This sentiment is instinctive, irrational. Is it not due to an intuitive perception of the presence of these invisible personages, or forces, against which they are helpless? That is pure hypothesis on mypart, but after all it seems to me defensible. As to the number of the invisible beings, I believe they are legion.
2. You ask me whether I have been able to establish their identity.
I answer that they sign some name or other, choosing in preference names of illustrious persons, in whose mouths they sometimes put the most stupid sort of expressions.
Furthermore the writing frequently ceases abruptly, as if an electric current has just been interrupted, and that without any appreciable reason. Then the writing changes, and sometimes sensible things end in absurdities, etc.
How explain this tangle of contradictions? I was so chafed and fretted by these incoherent results that I had for a long time abandoned the study of psychic forces, when your alluring researches came to wake in me my old self.
If the unconscious doubling of the personality of the individual (his externalization) can, in an extreme case, be sometimes admitted, it seems to me that there are cases in which this explanation becomes possible.
But I will explain. If, as respects the facts which happened to me personally, andthe authenticity of which I affirm to you upon my honor, there are some in which this externalization could have been possible, there are others in which it seems to me impossible.
Yes, strictly speaking, I might have been able, without suspecting it, to externalize myself, or, rather, unknown to myself, to be influenced by my friend Dolard when, in my own presence, he mentally asked me what had become of the soul of a deceased sister of whose name and very existence I was ignorant; yes, the same thing may, strictly speaking, explain the responses I made to the lady who questioned me on the subject of a marriage and her father, although it would in that case be necessary to suppose that she dictated to me the words that I was writing; yes, my friend Boucaud, who was hunting letters, might, at the moment when he was asking me about them, have thought of that oven, of the existence of which I was ignorant; yes, all of that is (in the last analysis) possible, although it would need a large amount of good will to admit it.
Yes, once more I say—and always with much goodwill—a table may be under the unconscious domination of a musician present and dictate a musical phrase. But, as it stands, it is difficult to admit the same phenomenon in the case of Victor Hugo, whose curious séances you have just described to the public. Why, just look at this great poet who, when he is asked by the table to put one or more questionsin verse, and, not feeling that he is man enough, in spite of his genius, to improvise something passable, asks for a breathing spell to prepare his questions, and brings them in next day!—and yet you would wish that, on this same next day, a part of himself should perform its functions,unknown to himself, and composeillico, without any preparation, verses at least as fine as those which he took an entire day to create!—verses of a pitiless logic and more profound than his own!
Yet let us admit even that. You see, dear sir, that I have all the good will possible, and that I have the most profound respect for the scientific method. But can you explain by externalization the case of finding a lost object when one is even ignorant of the way in which the apartment is arranged where it has been lost? or the ability to know, two days in advance, of the death of a person about whom one was not thinking at all? A possible coincidence, you will tell me, but at least very strange.
And those inverted dictations? and those in which we are obliged to skip every other letter?
No, I believe that we need not give ourselves so much trouble and rack our brains, for it seems to me that it is like looking for mid-day at two o'clock in the afternoon. It would require the labor of all the devils to explain how this phenomenon can take place in our nature without the knowledge of the proprietor. I do not like to see a part of my personality scampering away, and then housing itself again without my knowing anything about it.
As to what concerns the production of this externalization in a way which I may call voluntary—when a person who feels himself dying thinks intensely about those whom he loves and whose absence he deplores, yes, it may be that his will, even unknown to himself, suggesting the absentperson produces the phenomena of telepathy; but, in the phenomena of which we are speaking, that explanation seems to me more than doubtful.
I find much more simple the explanation that the phenomena are caused by the presence and the action of an independent being,—a spirit, phantasm, or elemental.
In fine what are we all seeking? The proof of the survival of the ego, ofthe individualityafter death.To be or not to be—it is all in that. For I frankly confess to you if I am going to dissolve away again into the great All, I should just as soon be annihilated. That is perhaps a weakness; but it cannot be helped. I hold above everything else to my individuality; not that I set a great value on it, but the feeling is instinctive and I believe that at bottom everybody is of this opinion. This then is the goal or end, which at all epochs has powerfully interested man and interests him still to-day.
One of the weightiest proofs of the survival of the individual being that I have ever met with is, in my opinion, the vision which my aunt hadseveral daysafter the death of a friend of hers who, in order to give her a proof of the reality of her apparition, inspired in her by mental suggestion the power of seeing her in the dress she had on in her coffin,a costume which my aunt had never seen.
This is one of the fine and rare arguments in favor of the survival of the soul, so far as my experience goes. Many things are explained by this survival,—above all, what is apparently the frightful injustice of this world.
To these important observations of M. Castex-Dégrange, I should like to add those of a distinguished scientist, who has also for a long time now devoted himself to the analysis and synthesis of these phenomena. I mean M. Goupil. Some of his studies are yet in manuscript form, and I am indebted to this savant for permission to use them. Others have been reprinted in a curious brochure (Pour et Contre, Tours, 1893). But in citing such a large number of instances and experiments, I am abusing the kindness of myreaders, even the most curious and the most eager for knowledge. However, I will at least point out the conclusions drawn by M. Goupil from his personal experiences. They are to be found in the work of which I have just spoken, and are as follows:
Table-turning séances yield very insignificant results, regarded as pure science obtained from the spirits; but they are not lacking in interest from the point of view of the analysis of the facts and of the science to be established in accordance with the causes and the laws which govern these phenomena.I believe that I can draw the conclusion from these phenomena that two theories (thereflexand theSpiritualistic) may be drawn from the facts. It seems to me impossible to maintain that an intelligent agent other than that of the experimenters is not operative in them. What is this intelligence? I believe it is very hazardous to express a confident opinion on this point in view of the incongruity of all these communications.It is also undeniable that the intellects of the operators enter into the phenomena to a great extent, and that in many cases they alone seem to act.I should perhaps be sufficiently near the truth if I gave the following definition of the phenomenon:Functions external to the animistic principle of the operators, and above all of the medium, and governed by their intellects, but sometimes associated with an intellect unknown and relatively independent of man.Experimenters have maintained that communications obtained from the so-called spirits through mediums never show more intellectual capacity than is possessed by the most intelligent person among the sitters. This assertion is generally justified, but it is not absolute.I will mention, in connection with this point, some séances which took place at my house. The medium was Mme. G., whose life I had been familiar with for twenty-seven years, day by day, and consequently had an intimate acquaintance with her character, her manners, temperament and education.The communications which were obtained through mediumistic writing in these séances extended over a period of more than fifteen months.Mme. G. had the sense of a kind ofmental, rather than auricular, psychical rather than physical, audition which dictated to her what she had to write in bits of sentences one after another; and this impression was accompanied by a strong desire to write, somewhat like the intense longing that a woman with child experiences.If this medium gave her attention to the sense of the writing during the composition, the current of power was shut off, and everything resumed the state of ordinary composition. Her condition was that of a clerk writing unconcernedly and mechanically under the dictation of a superior. It resulted from this that the writings, executed at the maximum speed of the subject, and generally without retardation or stoppage after the questions, were in one long string, without punctuation or paragraphs, and full of mistakes in spelling, resulting from the fact that the medium was acquainted with the sense of the writing only when she had read it over, at least in the case of rather long communications.The gist or substance of thewritingsseems very frequently to be drawn from our ideas, our conversation, our reading, or our thoughts; but there are certain plainly marked exceptions.While Mme. G. was writing, I applied myself to other occupations,—calculations, music, etc., or I walked up and down in the room; but I only examined the replies when she had stopped writing.Nothing indicated that the physical and physiological condition of the medium during these writings was in any way different from that of her ordinary condition. Mme. G. could interrupt her writing at will and apply herself to other occupations or make responses about things unconnected with the séance, and it never happened that she found herself short of an answer.There is no parallelism between these writings and the mental endowments of Mme. G., either in promptness of repartee, in breadth of view, or in philosophic depth.In 1890 I bought Flammarion'sUranie, which Mme. G. did not read until 1891. I found in it doctrines absolutely similar to those which I had deduced from my experiments and from our communications. Any one who should compare these mediumistic writings with the philosophical works of the French astronomer would be led to believe that Mme. G. had previously read them.Psychic phenomena have this peculiarity, that identical assertions are made in far distant places through mediums who have never known each other,—a fact which would tend to demonstrate that, running through many declarations which apparently contradict each other, there is a certain uniformity of action on the part of the intelligent occult power.In 1890 I also read the work of Dr. Antoine Cros,The Problem, in which I also found astonishing agreements between the ideas of this author and those of our Unknown Inspirer,—among others this: that man himself creates his Paradises and becomes that to which he has aspired.We should always seek the simplest explanation of the facts, without desiring to find the occult in them, and above all without looking for spirits everywhere, but also without wishing, under any circumstances, to reject the intervention of unknown agents and deny the facts when they cannot be explained.It is rather curious to remark that if we compare the dictations given by the tables and the other so-called mediumistic phenomena with observations made in conditions of natural or hypnotic somnambulism, we find the same phases of incoherence, hesitation, error, lucidity and supernormal excitation of the faculties.On the other hand, the supernormal excitation of the faculties neither explains the cases of prediction nor the citation of unknown facts. In the case of many telepathic or other phenomena every explanation limps that excludes the intervention of external intelligences. But it is still impossible to formulate a theory. There exists a gap to be filled by new discoveries.[79]
Table-turning séances yield very insignificant results, regarded as pure science obtained from the spirits; but they are not lacking in interest from the point of view of the analysis of the facts and of the science to be established in accordance with the causes and the laws which govern these phenomena.
I believe that I can draw the conclusion from these phenomena that two theories (thereflexand theSpiritualistic) may be drawn from the facts. It seems to me impossible to maintain that an intelligent agent other than that of the experimenters is not operative in them. What is this intelligence? I believe it is very hazardous to express a confident opinion on this point in view of the incongruity of all these communications.
It is also undeniable that the intellects of the operators enter into the phenomena to a great extent, and that in many cases they alone seem to act.
I should perhaps be sufficiently near the truth if I gave the following definition of the phenomenon:
Functions external to the animistic principle of the operators, and above all of the medium, and governed by their intellects, but sometimes associated with an intellect unknown and relatively independent of man.
Experimenters have maintained that communications obtained from the so-called spirits through mediums never show more intellectual capacity than is possessed by the most intelligent person among the sitters. This assertion is generally justified, but it is not absolute.
I will mention, in connection with this point, some séances which took place at my house. The medium was Mme. G., whose life I had been familiar with for twenty-seven years, day by day, and consequently had an intimate acquaintance with her character, her manners, temperament and education.
The communications which were obtained through mediumistic writing in these séances extended over a period of more than fifteen months.
Mme. G. had the sense of a kind ofmental, rather than auricular, psychical rather than physical, audition which dictated to her what she had to write in bits of sentences one after another; and this impression was accompanied by a strong desire to write, somewhat like the intense longing that a woman with child experiences.
If this medium gave her attention to the sense of the writing during the composition, the current of power was shut off, and everything resumed the state of ordinary composition. Her condition was that of a clerk writing unconcernedly and mechanically under the dictation of a superior. It resulted from this that the writings, executed at the maximum speed of the subject, and generally without retardation or stoppage after the questions, were in one long string, without punctuation or paragraphs, and full of mistakes in spelling, resulting from the fact that the medium was acquainted with the sense of the writing only when she had read it over, at least in the case of rather long communications.
The gist or substance of thewritingsseems very frequently to be drawn from our ideas, our conversation, our reading, or our thoughts; but there are certain plainly marked exceptions.
While Mme. G. was writing, I applied myself to other occupations,—calculations, music, etc., or I walked up and down in the room; but I only examined the replies when she had stopped writing.
Nothing indicated that the physical and physiological condition of the medium during these writings was in any way different from that of her ordinary condition. Mme. G. could interrupt her writing at will and apply herself to other occupations or make responses about things unconnected with the séance, and it never happened that she found herself short of an answer.
There is no parallelism between these writings and the mental endowments of Mme. G., either in promptness of repartee, in breadth of view, or in philosophic depth.
In 1890 I bought Flammarion'sUranie, which Mme. G. did not read until 1891. I found in it doctrines absolutely similar to those which I had deduced from my experiments and from our communications. Any one who should compare these mediumistic writings with the philosophical works of the French astronomer would be led to believe that Mme. G. had previously read them.
Psychic phenomena have this peculiarity, that identical assertions are made in far distant places through mediums who have never known each other,—a fact which would tend to demonstrate that, running through many declarations which apparently contradict each other, there is a certain uniformity of action on the part of the intelligent occult power.
In 1890 I also read the work of Dr. Antoine Cros,The Problem, in which I also found astonishing agreements between the ideas of this author and those of our Unknown Inspirer,—among others this: that man himself creates his Paradises and becomes that to which he has aspired.
We should always seek the simplest explanation of the facts, without desiring to find the occult in them, and above all without looking for spirits everywhere, but also without wishing, under any circumstances, to reject the intervention of unknown agents and deny the facts when they cannot be explained.
It is rather curious to remark that if we compare the dictations given by the tables and the other so-called mediumistic phenomena with observations made in conditions of natural or hypnotic somnambulism, we find the same phases of incoherence, hesitation, error, lucidity and supernormal excitation of the faculties.
On the other hand, the supernormal excitation of the faculties neither explains the cases of prediction nor the citation of unknown facts. In the case of many telepathic or other phenomena every explanation limps that excludes the intervention of external intelligences. But it is still impossible to formulate a theory. There exists a gap to be filled by new discoveries.[79]
I will add to these conclusions two short extracts from a letter which M. Goupil wrote me on the 13th of April, 1899, and from another one on the 1st of June, in the same year.