THE MEDIUM AND HIS PHENOMENA

An acute analysis of a medium is of primary importance in the examination and appreciation of his phenomena, therefore we will first of all dwell a little on the personality of M. Meurice, the medium in question.

He is a friend of Dr. Maxwell’s—a friend of some years’ standing.

He is a slightly built man, the reverse of robust, but endowed with remarkable vitality and recuperative powers. He is thirty-two years of age; he is unmarried. He is highly sensitive and reserved in disposition, and forms quick but lasting sympathies and antipathies. He gives one the impression of being always in a state of hypertension; his nervous system is most finely strung, and he appears to experience an irresistible need of constant physical movement. He passes easily from the extremes of joy to the extremes of sadness. Highly nervous though he be, Dr. Maxwell has never observed any signs of hysteria, or any symptoms of a lack of equilibrium in the medium’s mentality. He is not amenable to the hypnotic sleep, but Dr. Maxwell says he has sometimes thought that he might eventually succeed in inducing that state. The few attempts so far made in this direction have given no results; moreover, M. Meurice does not care to submit himself to this kind of experimentation. His cutaneous and other sensibilities are normal; his reflexes also are normal.

He suffers occasionally from violent headaches and neuralgia; and has frequent gastric attacks, notably after the production of telekinetic phenomena. Otherwise his health is good. During the production of phenomena, M. Meurice often acknowledges to a sinking sensation in the epigastric region, and says it is as though something material were being drawn out of him at such moments.

He is well read in every branch of literature, and has a most retentive memory. One has the notion that this medium, to a great extent, has under his conscious control a large range of what is generally submerged faculty.

Subliminal operation is, no doubt, constantly going on with us all, but it is most apparent in M. Meurice. One feels with him that his unconscious memory is always on the alert.

Amnesia appears to follow rapidly in the footsteps of his visions, but several things seem to indicate that this amnesia is only apparent.[18]

Dr. Maxwell says he always thought he had a psychic in his friend. However, notwithstanding his medical studies, and wide range of knowledge of things in general, M. Meurice was ignorant of metapsychical phenomena, and averse to becoming acquainted with the practices of spiritism or anything of that nature. Little by little Dr. Maxwell induced his friend to take some interest in these phenomena, and one day he persuaded him to put his hands on a table with a view to seeing whether the two of them together could obtain any phenomena. Raps were immediately forthcoming; they resounded on the floor. The medium was startled by the unusual noise and quickly rose from the table. Nothing more was received on that occasion or for some time afterwards. Then, for two years, M. Meurice reluctantly and irregularly yielded to Dr. Maxwell’s persuasions to develop his medianity.

For some time he could not be made to see the importance of his phenomena, and Dr. Maxwell refused to give weight to his words by appealing to technical literature. He was desirous of keeping his friend in ignorance of current notions on these phenomena, thinking the results would be of greater value if the soil they sprang from were virgin.

M. Meurice has done all in his power to throw light upon his own phenomena. His co-operation has been precious, for often his fine intelligence and well-trained powers of observation have enabled him to bring into the research valuable analyses of his sensations and impressions. For this medium not only does not lose consciousness during the production of his phenomena, he is often at such moments more thoroughly ‘all there’—to use a Scotch expression—than in his unproductive moments of abstraction. True, there have been a few exceptions, but, as a rule, he is keenly alive to all that is going on when phenomena is forthcoming.

The passages I have indicated in Dr. Maxwell’s work will acquaint the reader with the order and degree of phenomena presented by M. Meurice, when Professor Richet made his acquaintance. Dr. Maxwell had studied, almost exclusively, the physical aspect of the facts he received, and did not encourage phenomena of an intellectual order. This scientific attitude, however, had not prevented the manifestation of the phenomenon of personification; and the ‘raps’ speedily put forth the claims common to spiritualistic beliefs—in spite of the medium’s ignorance of them. When Professor Richet began to experiment with M. Meurice, the ‘raps’ had already claimed to emanate from ‘John King,’ ‘Chappe d’Auteroche,’ a group of four entities calling themselves the ‘good fairies,’ and, lastly, from two of Dr. Maxwell’s deceased friends.

As the capital interest of this chapter lies in the intelligent aspect of the phenomena, there is a fact of paramount importance to be pointed out with emphasis.

Our medium is very amenable to influence, and his phenomena constantly show the effects of suggestion and influence. I do not, by any means, wish to infer that M. Meurice is like wax in the hands of his friends; on the contrary, if it were only a question of personal consciousness, we might say he is almost impervious to the action of extraneous influences. His ways of thinking and acting bear the stamp of independence, and if he yields occasionally to the wishes of his friends, it is out of pure friendship and with deliberation. When, however, we are endeavouring to make a psychological study of a medium, we strive to reach the lower strata at once; the surface is of little interest when we know that the secret lies below. Therefore, when I say that M. Meurice is most amenable to influence, I am bearing in mind that profound region, his general consciousness. The personal consciousness may be rebellious to influence, but the subliminal is reached by subtler means than is its grosser envelope, and is remarkably amenable to the charm of suggestion and the voice of sympathy. In all probability the reader will find sufficient evidence of the accuracy of my assertion in the phenomena to be spoken of in the course of this chapter; therefore, I will not dwell any further upon this point, although it be an important one.

When experimenting with Eusapia Paladino, Professor Richet had remarked and called attention to the synchronism which existed between her phenomena and her movements or muscular contractions. Dr. Maxwell, in his turn, also remarked it, and forthwith bent his studies in that direction. The conclusion appears to be evident that a profound and far-reaching importance lies in the synchronism between the movements of the experimenters and the phenomena. It was observed that Dr. Maxwell was indeed able to produce phenomena of raps and telekinesis [of very feeble intensity, it is true] by tapping the medium on his hands or shoulder, by firmly squeezing the hands, joined in a circle above the table, or by the simple contraction of his own muscles.

En passant, it may be useful to note that Dr. X. was opposed to the idea that synchronism always existed between the phenomena and the movements of the experimenters, that is to say, that muscular contraction was alone responsible for the phenomena. Dr. X. was so opposed to this notion, that his presence at seances where this synchronism was being demonstrated, has often been observed to cause all manifestations to cease—to nullify the results. If Dr. X. was able to exercise this power over one centre, it is highly probable that his presence would exercise a like inhibitory influence over other centres of energy, where like experiments were being conducted.

Though Dr. Maxwell had obtained not a few phenomena showing intelligence (e.g. raps claiming to emanate from various personifications), yet, as he says in his book, pages 26, 28, and 83, he did not feel drawn towards that order of research, and did his best to keep the phenomena on physical lines. But since Professor Richet has experimented with M. Meurice, the phenomena have developed rapidly along the lines of intellectuality: a result which may, it is true, be due to our medium’s good-nature in allowing his power to be used as was desired, or which may be the effect of influence and suggestion. We are inclined to think the latter is nearer the truth, an opinion which is supported by the fact that when Dr. X. and Professor Richet were present—that is to say, within a few days after Dr. X.’s appearance in the circle—synchronous phenomena could rarely be obtained.[19]

Now, all unknown to Dr. Maxwell, Professor Richet had passed the previous three years in the study of these same phenomena from a psychological standpoint, and at the moment of his first visit to Bordeaux, he was particularly absorbed in the research and analysis of intelligent messages received by means of a physical phenomenon. His desire, for the time being, was to receive messages—of identity or otherwise—by means of raps without contact.

Already familiar with the fact of synchronism—which a little experience suffices to show is not due to self-suggestion or endosomatic activity—Professor Richet wished to get on to fresh ground; as before said, he wanted intellectuality in a physical phenomenon, and it was not long before he got what he wanted with the medium in question.

And, à propos, perhaps I may be allowed to briefly relate at once the first phenomenon containing intelligence, which Professor Richet obtained with M. Meurice. A short time after having made his acquaintance, the professor and Dr. X. thought they would try to obtain a ‘test.’ Supposing, for a moment, that an entity, who has several times claimed to be communicating with Professor Richet, really existed, they ‘evoked’ him, and asked him to give them a sign through M. Meurice, which would denote that he had been listening to a certain conversation held two hours previously. The medium and Dr. Maxwell were unaware that this entity had a speciality of communicating in Latin or Greek. A few hours afterwards, during dinner, raps were heard on the table and other furniture in the vicinity of M. Meurice; when the question was asked as to who was rapping, the Christian name of the entity was given, followed by the word Confide. No word, it appears, could have borne more directly upon the conversation in question. There was difficulty in obtaining these two words, the raps—in such abundance when not requested to ‘work’—came laboriously, as though some one were picking his steps among brambles, so to speak. The medium himself spelt out the alphabet on this occasion.

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Dr. Maxwell has given an analysis of the raps obtained with M. Meurice, and we especially refer the reader to pages [79]-[82] and [250].

When raps without contact delay in coming, M. Meurice takes a lead-pencil, holds it in his hands, and presses one end against the table or on an experimenter according to desire; the raps then resound at the end touching the experimenter or the table.

Anæsthesia is observed only in the hand and arm holding the pencil. “Once or twice,” says Dr. X., “I have observed something like cramp seize the hand and arm, and extend along the shoulder blade, to the nape of the neck. On these occasions, I saw the whole arm vibrate after each rap, like the rebounding of an elastic band, and I have sometimes thought it looked as though the ‘fluid’ passed down the nerves of the arm into the pencil, as though it were flowing through a clear open channel, until it reached the point of the pencil, when a jerk of some kind appeared to force it out on to the wood; not that the pencil or arm moves when the rap resounds, but one has the impression of an interior jerk of some kind when, in moments of cramp, the rap is heard; this rebounding movement appears to be almost simultaneous with the rap. Though the medium keeps his personality alive, as a rule, it seems to me,” continues Dr. X. (whose opinion is shared by Professor Richet), “to undergo a diminution of some kind, on these occasions; ideation appears to be slower and more difficult. But, because his arm hurt him when this cramp came on, we have always begged him to cease; therefore we cannot say whether, the experiment courageously continued, complete anæsthesia would eventually set in, accompanied by psychical phenomena.”

It is of importance to point out that both Professor Richet and Dr. X. (though Dr. Maxwell does not altogether share their opinion on this point) are inclined to believe that M. Meurice can tell when raps are going to be given, when phenomena will be forthcoming and when they will not be forthcoming; a conclusion which is drawn from many observations.

Some of the messages given in this chapter were obtained, when out walking with the medium. On such occasions, M. Meurice would put his hand on a walking-stick or on an umbrella; he preferred the latter. “The raps on the open umbrella are extremely curious,” writes Dr. X. “We have heard raps on the woodwork and on the silk at one and the same time; it is easy to perceive that the shock actually occurs in the wood—that the molecules of the latter are set in motion. The same thing occurs with the silk; and here observation is even more interesting still; each rap looks like a drop of some invisible liquid falling on the silk from a respectable height. The stretched silk of the umbrella is quickly and slightly but surely dented in; sometimes the force with which the raps are given is such as to shake the umbrella. Nothing is more absorbing than the observation of an apparent conversation—by means of the umbrella—between the medium’s personifications. Raps, imitating a burst of laughter in response to the observer’s remarks, resound on the silk like the rapid play of strong but tiny fingers. When raps on the umbrella are forthcoming, M. Meurice either holds the handle of the umbrella, or some one else does, whilst he simply touches the handle very lightly with his open palm. He never touches the silk.

“Raps without contact appear to require more force, and are not so frequently forthcoming, as raps with contact—which seem to be always at the medium’s command; consequently—and particularly as the tenor of the messages received constituted the chief interest for the time being—the use of the pencil or umbrella has been encouraged.”

All the messages given in this chapter, except where the contrary is expressly stated, have been received by contact with a pencil or umbrella—with what Chappe, the chief personification, calls his telephone.

A marked trait in the phenomena is their spontaneity. Months will pass away without the production of a single phenomenon worth mentioning—raps through the pencil can generally be obtained, however. After the attraction of the fan (pages [357]-[8]), nine months elapsed before another telekinetic phenomenon occurred. At other times, the energy is so abundant that while it lasts, that is to say for two or three weeks, the medium may truly be said to live in a world of phenomena in more senses than one; for, at such periods, phenomena are constantly forthcoming. Regular seances are not of much avail with M. Meurice; it is better not to seek, but to know how to receive, which means to know how to wait patiently and attentively.

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A brief analysis of the personifications is necessary before laying bare their work. The first to manifest was ‘John King.’ Subliminal labour is very transparent herein. M. Meurice had heard not a little of Eusapia Paladino’s secondary personality, which calls itself ‘John King.’

Then the raps announced the presence of a group of four entities calling themselves the ‘fairies’—les bonnes fées. In fact, the latter were the first to make their presence felt by M. Meurice, though John King was the first to manipulate the raps. The fairies gave the names of Miriam, Yolande, Liliane, and Brigitte; the latter remained but a short time; she said she had to go away somewhere; she was replaced by ‘Wicki,’ who claims to be an ancestor of Dr. Maxwell’s, and to have lived in Ireland during the fifteenth century. The medium associates the odour of jasmine with the fairies. Perhaps the following may suggest a clue to the origin of these entities:—

Some years ago, before Dr. Maxwell had commenced experimenting with his friend, he was in the habit of bidding him good-bye with the words, ‘Que les très bonnes vous protègent.’ When the fairies—les bonnes fées—appeared, they at once claimed to have been the means of bringing about the meeting of Dr. Maxwell with M. Meurice, and of having fostered their friendship. As for the odour of jasmine: on one occasion, soon after experimentation had begun, the medium was talking to the doctor about good influences; and he remarked that he sometimes perceived the odour of jasmine without being able to explain it normally. The next time the doctor saw his friend, the raps dictated that the odour of jasmine was the signal of the presence of the good fairies.

The next personification to manifest was said to be S., a very dear friend of Dr. Maxwell’s (see pages [160]-[1]). The genesis of this personification is easy to follow. S. was one of the leading men in Bordeaux, where he occupied a very prominent position; he was extremely well known—though M. Meurice did not know him, and says he never saw him. M. Meurice witnessed Dr. Maxwell’s grief when S. died, and heard the former say that he had been very fond of S. I again refer the reader to pages [160]-[1] for further consideration of the S. personification.

For a few months, the phenomena claimed to emanate chiefly from the fairies—John King gradually fading away. Then ‘Chappe d’Auteroche’ came on the scene, and has ever since kept the field pretty much to himself,—though he permits of the presence of the personalities already mentioned and a few others if introduced by him. His first appearance took the form of a vision in the crystal. The medium saw him in a foreign land, amidst large red flowers, savage tribes and queer-looking boats on canals; he gave his name, the exact day, month and year of his death, and the cause of his death; he described what his work on earth had been—all things which M. Meurice did not consciously know. Everything, which was verifiable, was found to be correct.

Some time after this, Chappe gave a long and coherent message by means of tilts of a table without contact—in daylight; on this occasion, he gave his Christian name as ‘Adhémar,’ which is, probably, an error, as biographies do not mention it.

Chappe is, doubtless, a subliminal entity; but his evolution is more difficult to explain than any of the medium’s other personifications. Perhaps M. Meurice—an avide reader—has come across some articles in periodicals, concerning the measurements of the solar parallax, by means of the crossing of the sun’s surface by the disc of the planet Venus. Chappe was one of the best-known observers; he went to Siberia in 1761, and to California in 1769, to observe those passages. His name must certainly have been mentioned in the newspapers, when the last crossings took place—that is in 1874 and 1882. But on these occasions, M. Meurice was only three and eleven years old! Has he seen the biographical notice of Chappe in Larousse’s dictionary? He has no conscious recollection of having read this, nor does he remember ever having heard of Chappe the astronomer. And there, for the present, the matter must stand.

Another personification—H. B.—made its irruption towards the end of 1903. M. Meurice was certainly aware of Dr. Maxwell’s profound esteem and affection for H. B.; but for further consideration of this personification, we refer the reader to Dr. Maxwell’s notes thereon, pages [287] and following.

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I perceive I am about to end these remarks on the medium and his phenomena without having said a word upon a vital point, one which many specialists would require to be satisfactorily settled before consenting to listen to an account of the phenomena. I mean the medium’s honesty. Professor Richet, Dr. Maxwell, and Dr. X. say that, for diverse reasons, they cannot doubt this particular medium’s honourability. As for raps and telekinetic phenomena, there can be no shadow of doubt about their genuineness; the excellent conditions of light, sight and touch which always prevail when his phenomena are forthcoming, joined to the intelligent co-operation of M. Meurice, who is as much interested in and capable of examining his own phenomena as are the observers, put mystification out of the question.

Is there any evidence of identity, of survival, of intelligent forces other than human, in this chapter? Each one will answer this question after his own manner of thinking. Some will say ‘No.’ If we could forget the extraordinary romance at the end of this chapter—Series C—we too might answer categorically ‘No.’ Though we have given all the leading details of the case, family reasons have necessitated the omission of much valuable material in this ‘romance,’ and perhaps readers will not see so much in it as those who watched its development. But even as it stands, it presents some baffling difficulties. It really seems to indicate that there is activity in the metethereal environment, and that the spirit can act in that environment. What matter, therefore, if it be the spirit of the living or of the dead? If one can demonstrate its independence of the body, why not the other?

SERIES A
VISIONS

It may be useful to give one or two of our medium’s visions. If these simple phenomena—where so much of the personal consciousness seems at play—be studied, some idea may be gained of how far, if at all, the subliminal is responsible for the production of this particular medium’s more intricate phenomena, such as intelligent messages given by means of raps without contact.

......

M. Meurice was once visiting Paris. He dined at my house on the evening of his arrival. This was the first time I met him. During dinner, an hour or so after his arrival, the medium said he saw a vision near me, and described a personage ‘dressed in white and gold-embroidered robes, who looks like a priest of ancient times.’ The only interest in this is that it corroborates what two other sensitives, unknown to our medium and to each other, have on two different occasions told me.

M. Meurice also claimed to recognise in me and this bedecked personage, two persons who figured in a dream-vision he had had, three years previous to meeting me. We give this dream chiefly for the sake of its rich symbolism.

The medium wrote an account of the dream at the time, at Dr. Maxwell’s request, the latter being struck by its oddity. Here is the vision:—

“I dreamt I was sleeping in a bed, the framework of which nearly touched the ground; the bed was raised on a kind of platform. I was in a large hall, which looked like a church. Suddenly a tall, fair woman, dressed in black, entered. A man wearing long, white, ancient-looking garments, embroidered all over in gold, followed her. Then Dr. Maxwell entered. The man in white read aloud out of the book, which the fair woman held open before him. I was suddenly overcome with emotion. I wept, and wept, and wept. My tears caused the flowers embroidered on the counterpane to spring into life; they grew and multiplied with amazing rapidity, completely covering the bed and, finally, burying me beneath their abundance and weight. The fair woman then said: ‘We must seek for him,’ and set to work to remove the flowers. During this operation, Dr. Maxwell stepped on my body; I screamed with pain and awoke.”

When M. Meurice awoke, he was suffering from colic; this fact may explain parts of the vision.

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One day in December 1903, at the close of a seance when some fine raps at a distance had been obtained, M. Meurice wrote a few German words. He does not know German. At the same time he saw, in the crystal, the words: ‘Kolbe, chimiste, mort à Leipzig 1730.’ A few hours after this seance, the medium had a vision of the personification Chappe, who said, ‘Vous ne savez donc lire? C’est “mort à Leipzig le 25 Novembre 1884,” et pas “1730.”’

Kolbe the chemist died at Leipzig on the 25th of November 1884. This information is to be found in Larousse’s dictionary.

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The following is an experiment in the transmission of thought which Dr. Maxwell tried with the medium:—

“I gave my hand to M. Meurice, to hold, and said to him—we had been talking, in a vague, general manner of the plurality of existences—‘Try and see how I died in my previous existence.’

“Unknown to the medium, I wrote down on paper the words:—Fall from a horse!

“M. Meurice answered: ‘I see your life, then you fade away into nothingness; you die from an accident; a carriage—no, a horse accident. I see you wearing a shield. You fall from your horse, he crushes you to death.’”

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The medium very often sees the same vision repeat itself in the crystal. This is the vision of a procession of individuals clothed in flowing robes; they follow a long narrow path, which loses itself in a tunnel, into which the procession passes. The vision never varies, save that at times after the procession has disappeared into the tunnel, the path seems to be strewn with the bones of skeletons.

This vision has also been seen, in the same crystal, by our medium’s youngest sister, a girl of twenty, who is absolutely ignorant of spiritistic phenomena. She attributed her vision to an optical illusion.

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It has been observed with M. Meurice that the last vision sometimes precedes veridical hallucinations.

This and other facts would lead one to think that very probably, for a medium, there is no test which can discriminate between falsidical and veridical hallucinations. The psychological process appears to be the same, viz. dramatisation and concrete images, instead of abstract concepts or ideas.

Mediums, as a rule, possess parasitic personalities which act in the same way as the normal personality; this feature of hallucinatory phenomena is difficult to analyse, and introduces into the problem a number of unknown factors.

In the case of the medium in question, the secondary personalities are weak. They are always felt and objectived by the normal personality, which is never expelled from the scene—a circumstance which is precious for the observer as the visions are sometimes vivid to a degree. With M. Meurice the unknown factors, though existing, are reduced to a sort of minimum, and the psychological analysis is perhaps less difficult than in the generality of cases. In this fact lies the value of his intellectual phenomena, though it is a drawback indeed from another point of view, the persistency of the normal consciousness, of the normal will, and even of the normal powers of attention, being probably the cause of the impurities which so frequently stain his intellectual phenomena.

NOTES ON THE PERSONIFICATION ‘H. B.’
By Dr. Maxwell

“H. B. died at a very advanced age. He was a man of great kindness of heart, and of deep intelligence. He had received a solid, classical education. He was born in a foreign country, went, when a young man, to a North American state, where he lived for some time. He married, and finally came to Bordeaux—a town to which his wife and all her family belonged. H. B. lived for many years at Bordeaux; but during the last six years of his life he was paralysed. He died at a time when the medium was twenty years of age, and was pursuing his studies in a hospital at Bordeaux. H. B. lived a very retired life, confined to the house because of his infirmity.

“There is every probability that M. Meurice had never heard of H. B. Although I had known my friend for some time before the irruption of this personification, I had been extremely careful to avoid giving him the slightest detail concerning H. B. He had, however, heard me say that H. B. had been one of my dearest friends.

“I had been experimenting for about two years with M. Meurice, when the personification H. B. first manifested. His emergence took place on the 2nd October 1903, in the form of a vision, which my friend had as he was going to bed. On the following day—during a dark seance we were holding in the hopes of obtaining luminous phenomena—M. Meurice described his vision of the previous night. His description vividly recalled H. B. to my mind. I was careful to say nothing, however. During the seance, the personification Chappe signified his presence by means of abundant and loud raps; at the same time M. Meurice told me he saw a face, and certain letters written above it; these letters formed a name, which indicated to me the presence of H. B. Thereupon I asked M. Meurice to give me the Christian and surnames of the vision he claimed to be looking at; in reply, the surname was instantly spelt out by raps without contact; the Christian name was given in French first of all, then it was correctly given in H. B.’s maternal tongue.[20]

“H. B.’s first appearances occurred in M. Meurice’s bedroom. From the indications given, I said I had quickly recognised H. B. Unfortunately, under the necessity in which I find myself placed of not bringing H. B.’s family into view, I am unable to mention the principal details. May it suffice to say that I recognised H. B. I may also add that the description of the hair, eyes, beard, stature were exactly and unhesitatingly given.

“I may also mention one important detail: M. Meurice described the vision he saw as being seated in an armchair with a blue plaid shawl—with a long fringe—wrapped about his legs. I did not recognise the chair—though I well remember the chair in which H. B. passed the last six years of his life—but the shawl was absolutely correctly described. This is a detail which, I affirm, M. Meurice could not possibly have known; and I consider it highly improbable that fraud could have found it out.

“So much for the first appearance of this personification.

“The visions continued. M. Meurice saw H. B. at different periods of his existence, at times infirm, at other times younger and standing upright. When he appeared young, he wore his beard in a certain fashion; when he appeared aged, he wore his beard differently; these details were correct.

“The vision at first did not speak, and simply looked kindly at him, said M. Meurice.

“The hallucination used to build itself up in the following manner: the medium saw a bluish cloud floating about near a particular armchair in his bedroom; the cloud or shadow remained ill defined, ‘as though several veils were being successively removed’; and only one feature at a time—at a vision—seemed to be distinctly shown, e.g. at one time, the eyes were well shown, the rest of the vision being very indistinct; at another time, the nose was the prominent feature, or the mouth, the hair or the beard, etc.; as though the personification wished to impress one thing at a time upon the medium’s perception.

“Finally on the 6th October 1903, in a short journey which M. Meurice made one day to Arcachon, H. B. appeared to him in broad daylight, in an avenue of the forest through which the medium was driving.

“M. Meurice saw, on the roadway a short distance ahead, a person walking very slowly and peculiarly: ‘he limped as though the right leg was shorter than the left.’ He was a stout man with a round, clean-shaven face. He had a peculiar mark near one of his eyes. He was wearing a tall straw hat, a high collar, the ends rising and meeting in points under the chin, a yellowish walking-stick, the handle of which was made of ivory and fastened to the stick by a silver band; the personage was reading a newspaper, the title of which was in Gothic lettering ‘like the Matin.’ He was wearing a thick gold chain and trinkets. M. Meurice thought he was looking upon a real individual, and it was not until the carriage had driven past, and my friend saw the supposed man suddenly disappear, leaving but a ‘whitish blur on the ground,’ that he recognised H. B. and the hallucinatory character of his perception.

“I saw M. Meurice about five hours after he had had this vision, when he gave me the above details; I recognised the following as being correct:—

“1. The walk.

“2. A peculiar mark near one of the eyes.

“3. The newspaper; H. B. took in the Temps, the title of which is in Gothic lettering like the Matin.

“4. The walking-stick, every detail being exact.

“5. The description of the collar was correct.

“6. H. B. used to wear a straw hat.

“7. ‘A stout man with a round, clean-shaven face’ applies to H. B. before his infirmity made an invalid of him.

“The watch-chain and trinkets were imaginary.

“A few remarks about details 1 and 2: H. B. had twice broken his right leg; the right leg was, as a result of these two accidents, shorter than the left leg. He had therefore a very peculiar and characteristic walk. When M. Meurice was relating the above vision to me, he imitated the walk to perfection. Let it be remembered that H. B. had not walked a step for six years previous to his death; when he was attacked by paralysis, M. Meurice was but fourteen years of age, and was not then living in Bordeaux.

“2. H. B. had a small and peculiar skin mark near his left eye. Now, when M. Meurice related his vision, I told him that he had not localised this mark accurately enough. Thereupon, raps resounded simultaneously on his chair, on the floor, and on a table standing a foot away from M. Meurice and myself; while these raps were resounding M. Meurice said he saw H. B., and remarked that he was pointing to the sign in question. M. Meurice then correctly localised the mark.

“Further, I told M. Meurice that he had made a mistake when speaking of a gold watch-chain and trinkets. The next vision my friend had of H. B., the latter showed himself with a black silk ribbon attached to his watch; this, I recognised as correct. H. B. always wore a black silk ribbon for a watch-chain.[21]

“In subsequent visions, H. B. showed the medium successively certain correct details in his costume, notably:—

“1. Cravats, dark blue with white spots.

“2. Shoes of a peculiar make, without heels and with elastic sides.

“3. White stockings.

“M. Meurice tells me he feels that H. B. very often tries to make himself visible to him; when he fails to do so, he hears him say impatiently: ‘Thut! thut! thut!’—a curious coincidence, for this was a most characteristic habit of H. B.’s when impatient.

“From that time the personification H. B. has continued to mingle actively in our medium’s life. His intervention is manifested daily. It would be impossible to give a full account of this personification’s manifestations; I will simply confine myself to indicating the principal. It is to be pointed out, first of all, that H. B. appears literally to ‘haunt’ M. Meurice’s house, especially the room above the latter’s bedroom.[22]

“The phenomena are of several kinds:—

“A. Sonorous phenomena.

“1. Footsteps.

“These footsteps are heard in the corridor of the second story of the house; a story which is not inhabited. Then the door of a bedroom, immediately above M. Meurice’s bedroom, seems to open and the footsteps resound in the room. M. Meurice has often got up—these noises occur at about two o’clock in the early morning—but he has never seen anything or any one.

“The same noises are also heard in M. Meurice’s own bedroom.

“2. The opening of doors and windows.

“Before hearing footsteps in the bedroom on the second floor, M. Meurice hears the door of that room open. The noise of the opening of the door is always preceded by a noise similar to that made by a hand searching in the dark for the door handle.

“M. Meurice hears the same sounds on his bedroom door. There are three doors to M. Meurice’s bedroom: one leads into a dressing-room, one into a clothes-room, the third into a study; it is at this third door that the above-mentioned phenomena occur.

“Sometimes M. Meurice hears the window of his own bedroom, as well as that of the room upstairs, open and shut. He has got up repeatedly, and gone upstairs to see what was happening, but has always found the door closed, which he fancied he had heard being opened. Whenever, on returning to his bedroom, he left the door of the room upstairs open, the noise of footsteps would begin again as soon as he had left, but without the sound of the opening and shutting of the bedroom door.

“3. Noises as of furniture being moved about. The medium hears the chairs and tables of the room above him move about; his faculties of observation are well developed, and he believes he recognises:—

“4. Noises of material objects other than furniture: these noises are like:—

“5. Diverse human noises:—

“Are these sonorous phenomena subjective? I have never been in the house at the hour, when these sounds are said to be heard; and the noises I have heard from time to time are not sufficiently pronounced for me to be able to form any conclusion. I have assured myself that no water-pipes exist in the upper stories of the house; the latter is isolated, but any loud noises made in a neighbouring house can be heard in M. Meurice’s house.

“No one sleeps in the second story. A domestic, who occupies a room on the same floor as M. Meurice, has heard the noise of footsteps, and has often got up out of bed and gone upstairs to see who was moving about. Never finding any one, the domestic attributes these sounds to rats: an insufficient explanation. Moreover, a close examination of the house, repeated on several occasions, has revealed to me no signs of rats.

“A sister of M. Meurice’s frequently pays him visits; she then occupies a room on the same floor as her brother. On three different occasions she has been awakened out of sleep by sounds of footsteps, and a fumbling noise on the door of her room, as though some one were feeling for the handle. She has got up, gone into her brother’s room, thinking it was he, searched about the house, but has never seen anything which could explain the noises, neither has she heard the noises while thus moving about.[24]

“She has also heard the flapping of birds’ wings, in the daytime, in different parts of the house.

“B. Phenomena of touch.

“M. Meurice sometimes feels a hand gently stroke him on the head. On one occasion, when he was suffering from a violent headache, he felt a hand move about on his head and forehead; the pain went away, and he fell asleep.

“C. Visual phenomena.

“Sonorous and tactile phenomena nearly always precede an apparition, which is generally that of H. B., either alone or with the Chappe personification.

“The following are a few examples of the visions relating to H. B.:—

“1. On the 31st October 1903 M. Meurice returned home from a visit to the neighbouring village—Arcachon, the same village, near which H. B. had appeared to him (p. [290]). When he entered his bedroom, he perceived H. B. seated in a chair, holding on his arm a mortuary wreath made of black beads.

“On the morrow—All Souls’ Day—M. Meurice related this vision to me. I was surprised—but concealed my surprise; for, as a matter of fact, I did not understand what a wreath of black beads could mean. At certain epochs I am in the habit of laying a wreath on H. B.’s tomb, but it is always composed of what were his favourite flowers. M. Meurice began to write automatically; he wrote: ‘Bring me what you are in the habit of bringing me; the other wreath was for T. Bring him one too, for his family have almost forgotten him.’ (I understood T. to be the initial letter of a great friend of H. B.’s.) My surprise did not diminish, because I know for a fact that T.’s family cherish his memory profoundly.

“However, following my usual custom, I treated the personification H. B. as he desired to be treated and executed his commission. I then made the following discovery: T. is buried in a vault over which lies a sort of platform. The vault belongs to his own family and the family of a near relation. There were fresh flowers on the side of the vault belonging to his relations; there were none on the side reserved for his family.

“I believe this circumstance, as well as the friendship which existed between H. B. and T., was unknown to M. Meurice; but I am obliged to admit that my belief rests upon no proof.

“Let me add, in order to finish at once with the T. incident, that, on the eve of my visit to T.’s tomb, I had asked M. Meurice to give me the Christian and surnames of the person about whom H. B. was supposed to be talking. The surname was given; a curious mistake was made before the Christian name was correctly given: the name of T.’s son was given, and then came T.’s own name. These indications were obtained in broad daylight, by means of raps without direct contact. The raps resounded upon a table on which I had placed a shawl, one corner of which was held by M. Meurice.

“2. A few days afterwards a seance was held in M. Meurice’s bedroom. A portable cabinet had been used, which M. Meurice had not taken the trouble to remove before going to bed. During the night he was awakened by taps on the head; he heard diverse noises, and saw the door of the cabinet open. H. B. appeared, leaning on two of the ‘fairies’; the two other ‘fairies’ followed. These personages presented the appearance of living people, said M. Meurice the next day when describing the vision to me. They rolled an armchair into the middle of the room; H. B. sat down in it; the fairies placed a shawl over his knees, and two of them sat down on the arms of his chair; the other two sat down on chairs. H. B. spoke about my health, and then bade M. Meurice tell me that I would be able to find all necessary documents on the history of religions in my cousin Y.’s library. The Christian names were correctly given, the surname approximately; but the approximation was such (the initial letter of the name being the only incorrect one) that I had no difficulty in recognising the name.

“It is exact that my cousin Y. possesses documents on the history of religions. M. Meurice knew that the question interested me; but it is extremely improbable, that he should have known of the existence of my cousin Y., who lives in the strictest seclusion; it is still more improbable, that he should have known the contents of his library. I cannot, however, affirm these two points, but I can at least affirm that M. Meurice does not know my cousin Y.

“The personification H. B. shows a spirit of fatherly protection towards M. Meurice; for example:—

“The medium was once out driving; a rather serious accident happened, in which his carriage was caught between a cart and a tram; the coachman was thrown from his seat and wounded. As the tram struck the carriage, M. Meurice felt himself seized by the arms, and carried out of the carriage on to the footpath by H. B.[25]

“The air of protection which this personification assumes is never absent; it is difficult, M. Meurice says, to convey an idea of the strange, fantastic impression which he feels, in presence of the frequent intervention of H. B., and other personifications.

“This impression is the less easily understood, in so much as M. Meurice is not a spiritualist, and has received a scientific education. He refuses to accept the explanations which the personifications offer of themselves: they claim to be human beings who have once lived on earth. Up to the present they have never pretended to give us any information touching the life beyond the tomb; the indications they have given rather tend to direct our experiments, and to try to formulate premonitions. H. B. seems to have given himself the task, chiefly, of establishing his identity; this desire appears to be his leading—I scarcely dare to say generating—idea. And we are obliged to admit that from this point of view he has given some curious details. These facts constitute the intellectual phenomena, which are the dominant ones in the H. B. personification, although raps and movements without contact are also said to emanate from him sometimes.

“I have given some examples of psycho-sensorial messages in the visions which I have described. These are far from being the most interesting. H. B. manifests also by automatic writing, and has given some messages of a highly interesting character in this manner. I cite the following as being the most characteristic:—

“On the 27th of November 1903, towards the close of a seance, I mentally asked H. B. where I happened to be, when he was laid up with a certain serious illness. The medium wrote: ‘You were a young magistrate at Blaye, near Bordeaux.’ M. Meurice knows what my career has been, but it is extremely improbable, he should have known about the illness—much less the time of the illness—of which I was thinking. At all events, the reply given to my mental question was correct. Neither the conversation nor previous facts could have given the slightest clue to my question. On another occasion, automatic writing made an extremely characteristic allusion to one of H. B.’s most inveterate habits: a glass of brandy and water every afternoon at half-past five, punctually.[26]

“Finally, on the occasion of the death of the last surviving member of his family, H. B. on the 5th of October 1904 wrote: ‘Poor L., no one is left now. It is a consolation for you to feel me near you.... Very often those left behind cannot see us.’ (Pauvre L., il ne reste plus personne maintenant, c’est une consolation pour vous de me sentir près de vous. Souvent les survivants ne peuvent pas nous voir.)

“This message was interesting because the last relative to die was not L. but C. L. died before C.; but L. had been H. B.’s favourite brother. It is quite correct that no one was left of H. B.’s generation after C.’s death.[27]

“At this same seance, H. B. mentioned a very private detail in connection with L. This fact, which raisons de convenance prevent me from fully relating, defines the nature of the intercourse which had existed between H. B. and his brother L. The circumstances which the writing recalled were known only to H. B. and a few near relations.

“I am fully aware that the above details have no demonstrative value, for I knew them all, and the hypothesis of thought transmission can explain them quite as well as the spirit hypothesis. Here is, however, a case which is less easily explained:—

“One of my friends is related to a lady, who lives with her husband in Paris. My friend told me that this cousin of his had amused herself one day with table-turning; and he added that the table had followed her without any one touching it. I had spoken of this incident to M. Meurice, but without mentioning names. The incident of the table following the novice the first time she had tried table-turning was the only thing mentioned.

“Quite recently, while pursuing my inquiry upon mediums’ eyes, H. B., through automatic writing, told me that the afore-mentioned friend would be able to give me some information on the subject; the writing then named his cousin, but called her by her maiden name, giving the name correctly.

“Now two or three days afterwards, M. Meurice had a vision or a dream—often he cannot tell whether it be one or the other; he saw an aged lady sitting before a large table, on the top of which a doll’s table was standing; two younger women were with her; one of these latter made the small doll’s table turn round three times without touching it. The room in which these ladies were sitting was large, and M. Meurice thought it was in a country-house. The curtains were of rose-coloured velvet.

“The scene described was the one my friend had related to me, but I pointed out to M. Meurice that one detail at least was certainly incorrect: viz. the doll’s table. H. B. immediately wrote: ‘He has not made a mistake, it was the small table which moved, and not the large one.’ (Il ne se trompe pas, c’est bien le mouvement d’une petite table qui a eu lieu, et non celui d’une grande.) I saw my friend the next day, and I related this incident to him. He assured me it was quite a mistake, that it was a large table, and not a doll’s table, which had moved. I saw him again a few days later, when he told me he had made further inquiries about the table-turning incident, and had found out that it was indeed a doll’s table placed upon the large table, which had effected the movements in question.

“The vision was therefore exact on this point; it was also exact concerning the number and age of the persons present, but the room in which the seance took place was in Paris and not in the country; the description of the room was incorrect.

“In this case, automatic writing confirmed the details seen hallucinatorily, or in dream; these details were most certainly unknown to M. Meurice as well as to myself. I will add that even had I mentioned my friend’s name, which I can affirm I did not do, that name would have been of no assistance to M. Meurice, inasmuch as he does not know my friend, much less his cousin in Paris.

“This is the most precise case, in which M. Meurice has given me correct details unknown to myself.

“If we examine in a general manner the character of the H. B. personification, we are, perhaps, obliged to admit that it presents a spiritistic appearance. This appearance is all the more singular, in that it manifests in a centre where the spiritistic hypothesis is looked upon with disfavour. I am well aware of the fact, that tendencies opposed to those of the normal personality are often observed in secondary personalities.

“Young girls of a most timid and reserved disposition, normally, sometimes show obscene parasitic personalities, under the influence of which they give utterance to the most filthy language, and perform most indecent acts. The processes of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are most instructive from this point of view, especially those of Loudun and Louviers. It is not surprising, therefore, to see personifications calling themselves spirits emerge in a non-spiritistic centre; it is probably a phenomenon comparable to that of the secondary personalities just spoken of. A different synthesis of psychological elements is formed, which follows an opposite bent to the one normally followed. It is as though the poles were changed, and a secondary personality reveals itself as the very reverse of the first personality.

“The interesting point to seek for, however, is not the genesis of the personification, for there are so many hypotheses which might explain it, but to determine which explanation concerning the personification best suits the particular circumstances.

“My observations upon the H. B. personification—the most thorough I have so far been able to make—do not permit me to form a definite conclusion; at the same time, they do not tend to make me look favourably upon the spirit hypothesis. If we resume the details given by H. B.:—

“That is to say: two inexact, two doubtful, and twelve accurate details.

“It may be of interest to draw attention to the process employed by this personification to prove his identity; it is worthy of some attention, because it touches on precise details. Those particular signs which are of capital importance in the identification of persons, we find in details 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, 13, 14, and it would be most unjust to refuse to recognise in these indications at least an appearance of volition and intelligence.

“The character of volition has been decidedly indicated. The H. B. personification began to manifest itself by giving details concerning his physical appearance and his habits. When M. Meurice saw H. B., he frequently perceived the apparition very indistinctly, with the exception of the particular point which the personification appeared to be desirous of impressing upon him; this occurred particularly with details 1, 2, 4, 5, 9, and for the rectification of the watch-chain incident—15.

“The character of intelligence has not been less marked than the character of volition. The personification gives the impression of having deliberately chosen the signs, by which he desired to prove his identity. Everybody knows how difficult it is to recognise such or such a person by the mere description of features; definite details and peculiar marks are, on the contrary, of the greatest value for purposes of identification: and these are precisely the details which H. B. seems to have chosen; these are the kind of details he seems to have shown with the greatest persistence.

“Such facts as these plead in favour of the spirit hypothesis; it would be unfair to deny it.

“In the first place, there are some inaccuracies, e.g. 15. Can we attribute this to the iconogenical activity of the medium? This is the theory which Dr. Hodgson has so finely developed, and the arguments he appeals to are very serious. The sensorial or motor message is due either to the medium himself, or to an intelligence distinct from that of the medium, or to the combined action of the two intelligences. Notwithstanding Dr. Hodgson’s weighty arguments, this explanation can only be considered, at present, as a working hypothesis. It is rather difficult to understand why an extraneous intelligence could give twelve accurate details, and make a mistake in two or three other important details; it is still more difficult to understand, if the identity in question be present, why he should commit such mistakes; and it seems to me that the personal action of the medium explains these errors even less satisfactorily.

“Nevertheless, we must admit that even if we accept the hypothesis of the personal action of the medium troubling the extrinsical action of a foreign intelligence, this simultaneous blending of true and false details is little made to bring about a conviction of the intervention of an active intelligence, other than that of the medium.

“Finally, even in admitting as proven the intervention of an intelligence non-human, nothing permits us to affirm that it is really the person in question who is manifesting and not an impersonation. This distinction has been well put forward by theologians, though the rules they give for the discernment of spirits appear to us to be most puerile.

“To sum up, the case of H. B. has an appearance which is, frankly speaking, spiritistic; but it is not possible to consider as certain, or even as probable, the pretensions manifested by this interesting personification.”

SERIES B

A. RAPS

I propose gathering together, for the first part of this series, a few interesting things scattered here and there among the notes before me.

On one occasion Chappe dictated by means of raps without contact—in broad daylight—that 760 copies of a work of Dr. Maxwell’s had been sold. Four days later, in the same manner, he said that 958 copies of the said work had been sold; incorrect information as the following proves: the day after the seance in which Chappe had announced the sale of 958 copies, Dr. Maxwell received a letter from the publisher of the work in question telling him that 800 copies had left him, including the press service.

......

“We had some good phenomena on Tuesday afternoon,” writes Dr. Maxwell. “I was talking to M. Meurice about my bibliographical researches, and of the best plan to adopt for the analytical indexes. A small mahogany table was near us, one leg of the table was touching a rug on which M. Meurice was sitting. Raps resounded on the table; Chappe’s signal was given, followed by some advice concerning the subject of our conversation. Telekinetic phenomena were also forthcoming—the table gliding towards us and then away from us according to request, travelling a distance of from three to five inches.

“Then I tried an experiment, one I have been wishing to try for some time: I bade M. Meurice sit in an armchair and lie perfectly still. I placed his arm at about one foot from the table, and told him to fancy he lifted his arm and struck the table, without, of course, making the slightest movement.

“We obtained some excellent raps in this way. This is a fine experiment, for it shows clearly the production of raps by the will—the direct, conscious and personal will.

“We tried three series of experiments; six raps in each series were willed; we received four raps in each, that is to say, 66 per cent. of success. The raps were loud, one was double. The medium nearly fainted after this experiment, but came round quickly, though he has not been well since.

“His sensations were: (1) absence of sensation in the arm with which we were experimenting; (2) a kind of breeze issuing from his shoulder. After willing the raps he was never sure of success, he did not feel the wood had been touched. Sensibility appeared to be exteriorised.”

......

In another of Dr. Maxwell’s letters we note the following:—

“For our seance yesterday we obtained, as usual, a quantity of raps through the lead-pencil. I succeeded in provoking them upon myself. Sensation produced: when M. Meurice put the pencil on bone I had a sensation of a slight electric current; it produced no contractions in the muscles traversed; the sensation was at its maximum on bone, probably because of the greater conductibility offered by solids to vibration.

“I have tried the raps upon several substances with the following result:—

“Sensibility appears to be exteriorised during the production of raps through a pencil. Yesterday there was sensibility at a distance of four centimetres from the periphery of the hand, which was holding the pencil, when the raps were forthcoming.

“I asked Chappe to indicate in one word why it was easier to obtain raps with a lead-pencil. He dictated the answer, ‘Localisent.’

“Before we separated we received the following message by raps without contact: ‘Jeanne Bordes morte 7 octobre 1859 à St. Pierre Martinique, demeurant 37 rue St. Jacques.’ I do not know of any Jeanne Bordes, though a family of that name lives at St. Pierre. I have questioned some people who have lived in that town, but they do not recollect any Jeanne Bordes....”

In another letter the doctor writes:—

“Towards four o’clock this afternoon, in broad daylight, some very fine raps resounded on a table standing thirteen feet away from M. Meurice and myself. It was said to be H. B. who was rapping. M. Meurice became nervous, and the experiment only lasted for five minutes. It was magnificent as an example of raps at a distance.”

......

The following extracts are taken from Dr. X.’s notes:—

“On one occasion Professor Richet and I were speaking about a relation of the professor’s, A. R., who was supposed to have communicated with him through M. Meurice. The latter could not have overheard our conversation, for the simple reason that he was at least ten miles away from where we happened to be at that moment. Five or six hours afterwards, when Professor Richet was out walking with M. Meurice, raps suddenly resounded on the latter’s walking-stick, and the following words were dictated: ‘Suis avec vous.’ (Who are you?) ‘A. R. Je ne vous ai jamais abandonné.’

“In the course of the morning’s conversation, the remark had been passed that the persistency of this personification’s manifestations would be looked upon by some as a sign of survival, and I had made use of the words: ‘I wonder if he—A. R.—has been near you lately.’

......

“The medium was aware of certain experiments I had made with a sensitive at Nancy. He often heard me discuss with Professor Richet and Dr. Maxwell, the phenomena I witnessed there. One day, in presence of Professor Richet and myself, Chappe dictated that he followed me about sometimes, upon which I said: ‘Were you with me in Nancy?’ He replied (by means of raps without contact): ‘Oui. D. s’attire des ennuis en groupant autour de lui des influences inférieures. Défiez-vous de la domestique. Fraude. Il y a eu autrefois un fort médium, Henri Dubuc, à Nancy. S. n’est pas un médium à matérialisations.’

“This communication was given in broad daylight, by means of raps without any contact whatsoever. The raps resounded on a table which was standing near, but which was not touched, either directly or indirectly, by the medium. From time to time Professor Richet and I leant on the table, but not with a view to aiding the phenomena—I mean to furnishing ‘force.’ Our touching the table or not seemed to make no difference to the rapping intelligence. The message was dictated with precision and rapidity.

“It is to be noted, that M. Meurice held a decided opinion concerning the experiments at Nancy; he was not at all inclined to admit their authenticity. The group, at whose seances I had been permitted to be present, know of no Henry Dubuc.

“While the preceding communication was being given, one of the observers made the remark, sotto voce, that he had a headache, and wondered if Chappe could suggest a remedy: immediately the somewhat laconic reply, ‘Dormez,’ was rapped out.”

......

The following message contains an incident of a certain interest, if the reader will kindly compare it with the efforts, related in Series C, page [359], to obtain a particular name.

“A letter had been received from Professor Richet, in which reference had been made to a curious occurrence at Carqueiranne, very much like an orthodox haunting. During lunch, I spoke about this to the medium. As often happened when the conversation turned on these grounds, raps mingled freely with our conversation. Thereupon I asked who was rapping, and received the reply that C. R. (Professor Richet’s grandfather) was present; whereupon the following conversation between this personification and myself took place:—

“Question: Can you explain the haunting at Carqueiranne?

“C. R.: Oui.

“Question: Who is it who haunts the place?

“C. R.: Mère.

“Question: Whose mother?

“C. R.: Grandmother Jacques. Mère Charles.

“(Jacques is the name of the boy to whom the incident in question occurred.)

“Question: What is her name?

“C. R.: Eugénie.

“This name ‘Eugénie’ is the one we had tried in vain to obtain four months previously.[28] It was now given without any hesitation whatsoever, by raps without contact.

“Following this word ‘Eugénie,’ the raps predicted the death of one of my brothers in a month’s time from an automobile accident. The prediction, happily, remains unfulfilled. When this message was received, I did not know if my brother ever rode in motor cars; and, for several reasons, I did not consider it at all likely; but three weeks afterwards, I had a letter from him asking me to procure him several catalogues, as he had the intention of buying a motor car. My brother lives in California. The medium knew I had relations in California, but did not know about my brother, much less his name.”

In the following messages, the raps were obtained with and without contact.

“I had been anxious about my youngest brother, and had openly spoken of my anxiety, saying I had reason to fear that my brother and his tutor did not get on well together. One evening, during dinner, Chappe rapped out the signal intimating his presence; the raps resounded on the table close to where I was sitting, and at a distance of about three feet from the medium. Asked if he had anything to say, Chappe dictated: Il faut laisser le petit en repos loin de son tuteur. I wish to draw attention to the last word, for it marks a curious error. When speaking to the medium of my brother, I always made use of the word tuteur, whereas, in French, I should have said précepteur. The two words have quite a different meaning; my brother was not with a tuteur in the French sense of the word, but with a précepteur.

“Now, a short time before, my brother had shown symptoms of a cardiac affection, and was undergoing a special treatment. Neither the medium nor Dr. Maxwell knew of this; they thought my brother was in the best of health, as indeed he appeared to be.

“After the last communication had been received, I asked Chappe if my brother’s health was good. My question was: Est-ce que sa santé est bonne? The answer came: Arythmie du cœur; séparez-le de son tuteur.

“At the time, I myself did not know the precise nature of the weakness. I simply knew that my brother had had two attacks of spasms of the heart; but, I repeat, I had not mentioned this fact to any one. A fortnight after receiving the foregoing communication, I had a letter from the doctor charged to watch over my brother, in which letter the term ‘arythmie’ was employed for the first time, in connection with him.

“My family thought of sending my brother to the Pyrenees for a few months’ rest and change. I asked Chappe if he could tell me what was contemplated; he replied: Peut-être ferez-vous bien de garaer Raoul auprès de vous; dans deux mois, Paris, campagne, Hyères, Ile, Arcachon; all so many efforts, one would say, to read my thoughts—but without success.

......

“A seance had been arranged for at which Dr. Maxwell, Professor Richet and I were to be present. Much had been expected from this seance, for there were many signs of ample force. The raps were certainly excellent, and, with a great show of dignity, asked: Permettez-vous à un ami de (mentioning my name) de venir? Permission being given, it was announced that “Georges R.” wished to speak with me.

“I know of no Georges R.; the medium, however, was aware of the fact that R. is one of my family names.

“The raps (‘Georges R.’) continued: Votre père a eu un accident de voiture; foie très contusionné; soaisr chute; (soir sa chute?).

“No accident of any kind has happened to my father either at the time of receiving the above message, or since.

“The rapping ceased abruptly, when this last message was given, and no further phenomena occurred at this particular seance.

......

“At a short seance at which Dr. Maxwell and I were present, the medium said he could see Chappe walking about the room with a lady on his arm; the lady was dressed in mourning. Raps accompanied the medium’s words and, the name of the lady in mourning being asked for, the word ‘Marguerite’ was dictated. Asked why she was in mourning, the raps replied that it was for identity’s sake, because ‘Marguerite’ was in mourning when she died. (Signe identité—en deuil quand elle est morte.) Asked for the name of the person for whom Marguerite was in mourning, when she died, the raps replied: ‘Katey.’

“Now, a favourite aunt of mine died a few years ago, whose name was Marguerite. My mother died a few weeks before my aunt; consequently my aunt was in mourning for my mother, when she died. My mother’s name was Kate, but my aunt always called her Katey.

“I can affirm never having spoken of these details either to Dr. Maxwell or to the medium.

“During this seance it was Dr. Maxwell who spelt out the alphabet.”

......

I will give one more quotation from Dr. X.’s notes:—“Chappe was rapping so noisily and abundantly one morning that, in default of other phenomena being forthcoming, I asked him if he would kindly tell me what was man’s occupation after death. My exact question was: Qu’est-ce qu’on fait dans l’Au delà? Very quickly and unhesitatingly the raps answered: On est dans ravissement profond, et occupé uniquement de faire le bonheur de tous ceux qui sont chers et le souci d’apporter des preuves d’une vie future.”

......

In the exposition of the few facts in this, as well as in the other series, we are trying to throw every light in our power upon the agency operating behind these messages. This necessitates personal details here and there which, we hope, the reader will forgive. On every occasion, unless the reverse has been stated, M. Meurice was thoroughly wide-awake. It was often he who spelt out the alphabet, especially when the observers had reason to suspect a name—or the nature of the message to be given. He always permitted a constant and careful scrutiny of his every movement, when the raps were produced with contact. When raps were forthcoming without contact, they were given wherever requested, e.g. on a chair, the floor, the centre of the table or under such or such an observer’s hand; in these cases the vibration was easily perceived. When the pencil was used, care was taken—by holding M. Meurice’s hand and the pencil—to make sure of the fact that neither hand nor pencil stirred, while the raps were being produced.

There can be no doubt whatever of the authenticity of the raps, which gave the messages laid before the reader in this chapter.

All things considered, the chances seem great that these raps are not accidental, but significant of some fact in the complex and obscure structure of human personality—dare we say in the structure even of the Cosmos?

B. TELEKINETIC PHENOMENA

The following is Dr. Maxwell’s compte rendu of some telekinetic phenomena, which were forthcoming on the 25th and 26th July 1903. These notes were written immediately after the phenomena occurred.

“25th July 1903; 4.30 P.M.

“M. Meurice and I were working in a small study in the former’s house. The room is about eight feet long by eight feet wide. On the NE. side is a window; SW. a door; NW. a glass door. The window was closed, and the shutters were half closed on account of the excessive heat and glaring light. The furniture consists of: a writing-table in the E. corner; a divan against the NE. wall; a low chair in the S. corner; a rectangular table in front of the couch or divan; a small hexagonal table near the rectangular table; a gilt cane chair in front of the window; a wooden stool in the W. corner; a chimney-piece in the N. corner; an armchair in front of the rectangular table; a small gilt chair was between the latter table and the divan. It was drawn under the table.

“M. Meurice and I had been writing (correcting proof sheets) on the hexagonal table. M. Meurice was sitting on the edge A of the divan, I was at B opposite him, when raps were heard on the writing-table—with which M. Meurice had no contact. I measured a distance of two feet between him and the writing-table. At the same time, raps in quantity, but of feeble tonality, resounded on the hexagonal table.

“We removed our writing materials on to the rectangular table, for the sake of more room. The raps gradually ceased; they died out altogether on the writing-table and began, though very feebly, to resound on the rectangular table. We worked for an hour and then rested a while. M. Meurice sat back on the couch, putting one of his feet on the chair between the divan and the table. Raps immediately resounded on the chair. I went and sat down beside my friend, and observed that the raps appeared to come from his foot; I found that they were synchronous with our movements; they also responded correctly to my mental and spoken request.

“I left the couch and sat on the armchair in front of the rectangular table. M. Meurice drew his legs under him and sat on the divan, tailor-fashion. We decided to try to move the gilt chair standing between the divan and the table. There was a space of fourteen inches between the divan and the chair. I sat on the armchair. M. Meurice brought his hands towards the chair, palms facing the chair; he kept his hands still at a distance of seven to eight inches from the back of the chair; I stretched out my arms above the table towards the chair. When I contracted my muscles, the arms and hands extended, the chair moved. The amplitude of the movement was very small, scarcely a quarter of an inch, but the movement was abrupt and decided. It was a jerk, which took place shortly after the muscular contraction.

“This movement was reproduced three times under the same conditions.

“Then M. Meurice and I changed places. I sat on the couch in the same way as he had sat; M. Meurice made the same movements I had made. The chair moved twice; the amplitude of the movement was much greater than with me; the chair was displaced an inch each time. After the second movement was produced, M. Meurice said he felt tired; he lifted his arms above his head and stretched himself; that is to say, he pulled himself upwards; his feet did not go near the table. While stretching himself, the chair suddenly—for the third time—displaced itself a distance of an inch. The latter movement coincided with the extension of the back, at the moment when the muscles of the grooves and lombo-sacré contracted.

“The direction of these movements was from the table towards the couch; the chair receded from the table, whether M. Meurice or I sat on the couch.

“Seeing how easily these movements without contact were being obtained, we went downstairs into the dining-room with the object of trying to obtain some phenomena, which M. Meurice had obtained when alone the previous day; namely, the attraction of wine-glasses.

“I took a liqueur-glass, and put it on the mantelpiece in the dining-room. M. Meurice made some passes around the glass, then put his two hands together meeting them at the finger-tips; he drew his hands slowly away, the glass followed his hands by jerks.

“We then returned to the study. I sat down on the divan and prepared to resume my writing. M. Meurice was standing near the mantelpiece. In a few minutes I heard him say he was attracting the chessmen. I got up and watched carefully. His hands were in the position described above in connection with the liqueur-glass; he drew his hands slowly backwards, and the red king followed his hands; this tiny piece is about half an inch in height and a quarter of an inch in diameter. The movement was slow and gliding. M. Meurice tried to reproduce the phenomena but failed. He said he was tired and would rest a while. In a few minutes he renewed his efforts. I stood close beside him; again failure. After a few more minutes of rest, he tried again—I watching him closely all the while—and, this time, succeeded in attracting the same piece—the red king. The piece followed the direction of his fingers, as before, slowly and smoothly.

“M. Meurice again complained of feeling tired, and I urged him not to try for any more phenomena, but to lie down and rest. I went to my writing once more, but M. Meurice was restless, and told me he wanted to try to move an empty beer-bottle, which was standing on the mantelpiece.

“He took it from the mantelpiece and put it on the wooden stool. He knelt down in front of the stool, and made the same manœuvres with his hands as for the liqueur-glass and the chessman. I remained sitting on the divan, a distance of nearly seven feet from the stool. M. Meurice, after the above-mentioned manœuvres, i.e. passing his hands several times round the bottle, joined his hands together at the finger-tips, and drew them gently backwards as before. The bottle moved four times, each time from two to three inches.

“M. Meurice then said he felt sea-sick; and he was obliged to lie down for a while. He soon rose up, however, and said he wanted to make something else move. He took a piece of sealing-wax, tried several times, but failed to move it. Thereupon I persuaded him to cease making further attempts.”

“26th July.

“Phenomena of attraction similar to yesterday, occurred this afternoon. We were in M. Meurice’s bedroom. It was four o’clock, the window was open, the shutters were ajar; the light was excellent.

“The mantelpiece is covered with plush. On one corner there is a statuette in porcelain representing the Thorn; the child is seated on a chair, and is pulling a thorn out of his foot; the statuette is five inches high. M. Meurice told me that he was going to make this statuette move. I stood near him, with one hand on his back; I stooped down, and looked fixedly and narrowly at the statuette during the whole operation. M. Meurice proceeded exactly as in the preceding experiments, and when his hands—joined together at the finger-tips—were at a distance of six inches from the statuette, the latter swayed, bent slowly forward, and fell over. I affirm most positively, that there was no hair or thread or normal link of any kind whatsoever between the statuette and the medium’s hands. I passed my hand all round the statuette, before the movement, during the movement, and after the movement; I thus verified by touch, what my eyes were witnessing.

“Now, after M. Meurice had made some passes with his hands around the statuette (without touching it, be it remembered), and when, after putting his hands together at the finger-tips, he slowly withdrew them, I heard a slight noise, like the rubbing of a hair on the statuette; at the same time the latter swayed; this creaking sound did not continue, and only accompanied the first movements of the statuette. Again I affirm, that there was no hair or thread whatsoever connecting the medium’s hands with the statuette.

“After the production of this phenomenon, we decided to have a dark seance, for the purpose of trying to obtain luminous phenomena. I closed the shutters and pulled down a dark blind, especially constructed for dark seances. While I was doing this, M. Meurice continued trying to attract various articles on the chimney-piece. Seeing this I drew the dark blind away again and let in more light, in order to be able to see clearly. I took a stick of sealing-wax, broke off a piece and put it on a small mirror, which was lying on the mantelpiece. In this case M. Meurice did not make any preliminary passes as with the statuette, beer-bottle and liqueur-glass; he simply joined his hands together in front of the sealing-wax; the sealing-wax followed his hands several times, in fact every backward movement drew the wax after the hands; he finally drew the sealing-wax to the edge of the mantelpiece, when it fell to the floor.

“The seance which followed was unproductive. A few raps were heard, but that was all. After the seance, we lighted up the room, opened the window, and M. Meurice again tried to move the sealing-wax. He succeeded with great facility, the sealing-wax following every movement of his fingers.

“By sight and touch, I assured myself of the absence of any link between the wax and M. Meurice’s hands. I solemnly affirm that no such link of any kind existed.

“I desired to write a letter, and, thinking that the phenomena were probably exhausted for the time being, I begged M. Meurice to allow me to get off my letter. I was in the act of writing, when he said he felt he could move another article. I watched him: he took up another statuette, which stands a foot high; he put this statuette on a small table which was near me; he kept his hands open, palms turned towards the object in question. He moved his hands slowly backwards and forwards, and I observed the statuette bend forward when his hands receded, and bend backwards when his hands approached it. His hands were never nearer than ten inches to the object.

“M. Meurice then complained of feeling unwell, and threw himself on his bed. His hands touched the head of the bed, on the woodwork of which raps at once resounded. Chappe gave his signal, and dictated: ‘B. MENAGEZ.’ Questioned as to what he meant, he said to take care of the medium, and not to take advantage of the power. We ceased experimenting, therefore.

“I have a few remarks to make concerning the above phenomena. When I held my friend’s hands, I obtained nothing. M. Meurice says he saw a thread, or rather a sheath of filaments, pass from his fingers on to the object of experimentation. As a rule, he made passes over the object he wished to move, as though he were putting a thread of some kind around it. He did not always do this, e.g. if the object to be moved were light and small, he made no passes over it.

“This movement would be very suspicious, if observation were superficial; but apart from the purely scientific spirit in which M. Meurice views his own phenomena, the severe control I exercised demonstrated the absence of any material link whatever.”

More Extracts from Dr. Maxwell’s Notes

“3rd June 1903.

“A movement without contact was forthcoming this afternoon. I placed a table upside down upon a linen sheet. M. Meurice and I put our hands on the sheet, some distance away from the table. The latter turned completely over; the movement was performed slowly and gently. It was at four o’clock, the sunlight was streaming in through the open window.

“We also obtained the movement of a heavy wooden stool with slight contact. M. Meurice and I were sitting on a couch, the stool was near us; abundant raps were heard on the stool. M. Meurice took up a piece of linen, put one end on the stool, putting a framed picture on top of it to keep it in place; he put the other end on his knees. In a few minutes, the stool swayed about and finally moved a distance of three inches away from M. Meurice. I watched him well and can affirm he moved neither hand nor foot during the production of this phenomena.

“M. Meurice experienced much fatigue after this movement. It occurred at half-past four; the light, I repeat, was excellent.”

“11th June 1903.

“It appears that M. Meurice attracted several objects—pieces of bread, forks, etc.—yesterday during lunch. But he could not reproduce the phenomena in my presence. We had, however, raps and numerous slight movements without contact—raps almost ad libitum. Automatic writing followed, but contained nothing of interest; it was impossible to obtain replies to mental questions: subjectivity.

“P.S.—I am adding a postscript to my letter from the medium’s house; for we have just received some fine phenomena. The raps were, as usual, very abundant; but we also received two fine series of parakinetic movements.

“1. I brought a small mahogany table up to the sofa on which M. Meurice had thrown himself. I sat down beside him, taking a shawl which I threw over him and the table. Instantly, raps resounded on the table. M. Meurice could not possibly have touched the table without my noticing it.

“The table swayed about, now on this side, now on that; and then dragged itself towards me by jerks, first one side, then the other. When I squeezed M. Meurice’s hand or gave him a slight tap on the shoulder, there was a synchronous movement in the table. The latter also moved in response to request. Then it gently raised itself up on the two feet which were nearest to me; this side lost contact with the floor and rose to a height of four inches.

“2. We were both carefully watching this interesting phenomenon, when I heard raps on another table which was about a foot away from the sofa and two feet away from the table with which we were experimenting. This second table had no contact whatsoever either with the sofa or with the shawl: it was isolated. Hearing the raps, I looked at the table and saw it rise up, or to be more correct, sway about—only three of its legs touching the ground. M. Meurice had not noticed this phenomenon; when I drew his attention to it, he became suddenly nervous, and complained of feeling tired. I pointed out to him how much this sensation of fatigue was subjective and out of all proportion with the energy expended. But new or unexpected phenomena always upset him; he experiences a sort of anguish blended with something like fear in presence of a new phenomenon.

“These movements of the second table lasted for several minutes; they were synchronous with our own movements and muscular contractions, but were also forthcoming at request. We were operating in broad daylight. Chappe informed us, by raps, that he was the operator on this occasion.”

“11th July 1904.

“I was obliged to make an early call on our medium this morning. Lucky visit! for he was in a working mood and gave two fine movements without contact. We began by sitting at a table, where we received raps by means of the lead-pencil; the words: Put yourselves against the daylight were rapped out. We did not understand what this meant, and ceased experimenting. We went downstairs and walked about in the garden for a few minutes. When we went back to the study, we resumed our seance. M. Meurice sat down on the divan and I in front of him. Raps without contact dictated: Lie down for a while, we want to try for a physical effect.

“The raps directed that I was to lie down on the sofa and M. Meurice was to take my place. We followed these directions.

“M. Meurice said he felt ‘queer’; that his hands seemed to be full of hair, or rather of spider’s web, and he tried to rub the feeling away. I got up and took down from the mantelpiece the statuette of St. John, the history of which you know.[29] He tried to attract it, but without results. We waited, the spider’s web sensation returned, and this time I prevented him from rubbing it off; he drew his hands together over and then in front of the statuette and—his fingers at a distance of five inches from the object—attracted it to him. The statuette moved two inches.

“M. Meurice felt ill after this movement, and was obliged to lie down for a while. He soon got up, and tried again. But I stopped him, fearing he might over-tire himself; though the statuette did not move forward this time, it swayed about.”

“18th July 1904.

“On Thursday morning, M. Meurice again succeeded in attracting the statuette of St. John. He told me he felt the cobwebby sensation, which—in his case—coincides with telekinetic phenomena; he took the statuette in question and placed it on a table. He then proceeded as though he were putting something behind the object, making several passes with his hands all round it. As he was drawing his hands away from the statuette—they had reached a distance of nine inches—I heard something like the crackling of a hair or silken thread on the wood of the statuette, and then the latter moved.

“The excellent conditions of light under which the experiment took place, the control of sight and touch which I most carefully exercised, the proximity of the statuette to my eyes, all this renders the absence of any hair or thread most certain for me. This is the second time I have heard this scraping sound.

“M. Meurice was extremely fatigued after the production of this phenomenon, and fainted. On recovering himself, he insisted on trying once more, and succeeded in making the statuette sway about.

“The day following this experience, he attracted several small articles—wine-glasses, bread, etc.—near his reach on the luncheon-table. I was not present, however.

“You perceive how very suspicious the phenomena sometimes appear to be. Nothing short of actual observation could demonstrate the absence of a connecting link of some kind between the medium’s hands and the object in movement.”

C. LUMINOUS PHENOMENA
By Dr. X.

“For about eighteen months, Dr. Maxwell has been endeavouring to turn the phenomena in the direction of luminosities or materialisations.

“With that object in view, he has had a light portable cabinet constructed. This fragile apparatus consists of eight pieces of pinewood fitting into one another by means of hooks. When put together, there is just enough space inside the cabinet to allow of the introduction of a small, straight-backed chair; a person sitting thereon, finds himself in contact with the back and sides of the cabinet, and his knees against the door. A large curtain of purple cloth has been made, which is thrown over the cabinet, covering it completely. The curtain is buttoned over the door.

“The luminous phenomena already obtained with this medium and spoken of by Dr. Maxwell on pages [152]-[5], were sufficient grounds for hoping that patience and perseverance might, finally, obtain happy results capable of being repeated.

“For more than a year nothing demonstratively objective was forthcoming. In the darkness, one often imagined one could see clouds of vapour moving about near the cabinet; but there was nothing to prove that this appearance was anything more than an optical illusion. On these occasions, the medium frequently complained of a disagreeable sensation on his hands and face, as though he were caught in a spider’s web. He has also said, that he perceived from time to time an odour of phosphorus or ozone in the cabinet; the medium has been the only one of the experimenters to notice this odour, so far.

“Whenever I have been present at these attempts, I have observed that they were accompanied by complete cessation of all other phenomena, such as visions, raps, telekinesis. Until November 1904, this apparently negative result was about all that was obtained at these dark seances.

“During the first week in November, the medium being in good form, and the ‘force’ abundant, it was decided to devote a few days, which Professor Richet was able to dispose of, to an effort to obtain luminous phenomena.

“Three seances in all were held. There were present, Professor Richet, Dr. Maxwell, M. Meurice, and myself. The seances were held in a very small room on the top floor of the medium’s house.

“The following is a diagram showing the disposition of the room in which the three seances, of which I am giving the compte rendu, took place.

“The door, which was shut, leads into another room, the two doors of which—leading into a corridor—were locked during the experiment. The window and shutters of this adjoining room were closed, and the room darkened, so that no light therefrom could penetrate under the door of the seance-room.

“The seances were held between 5 and 6.30 o’clock in the afternoon. Total darkness was obtained by closing the outside shutters and the window, and by hanging a large black curtain—kept for the purpose—across the window. No ray of light was visible on the sides of the window; the position of the latter could be guessed at during the seance—simply because we knew where it was—but could not be perceived. The darkness was profound. A candle and box of matches were placed on table A. When the experimenters were seated, the candle was blown out.

“Results.—Tuesday, 1st November 1904. The four experimenters were seated around the table (see diagram); the medium (who is not marked on the diagram, because he was in the cabinet whenever phenomena were forthcoming) was seated between Dr. Maxwell (M) and Professor Richet (R), with his back to the cabinet: No results—nothing whatever—neither raps nor anything else.

“The medium goes into the cabinet. After an interval of a quarter of an hour, M and X think they see milky-looking clouds floating about near the cabinet, but they are unable to affirm the objectivity of this appearance. At the close of the seance, feeble raps are heard on the table; the raps dictate that Professor Richet is to sit in the cabinet on the following day.”

......

Second Seance

“Wednesday, 2nd November 1904.

“Professor Richet sits in the cabinet. The medium sits at the spot marked M on the diagram; Dr. Maxwell sits at R. After sitting in this way for a quarter of an hour—during which time nothing occurred—the medium asked to be allowed to go into the cabinet. Professor Richet then sits at R, and Dr. Maxwell at M. Almost immediately M and X see a phosphorescent, milky-looking, amorphous light, of about six inches in diameter in parts, floating about outside the door of the cabinet. It was decidedly objective, lasted for about one minute, and gradually disappeared.

“R did not see the light.

“[From an experiment made on the following day, we have all three reason to believe, that Professor Richet did not see the luminosities at this seance because of his position. Let it be borne in mind that X was in direct line of vision with the door of the cabinet, and that M was also favourably placed for observation. These facts did not strike us until the seance was over, and R’s inability to see what M and X affirmed were objective lights was incomprehensible at the time being.]

“When the medium took Professor Richet’s place in the cabinet, he said the latter appeared to him to be all lighted up; when Dr. Maxwell and I saw the light outside the cabinet, the medium declared he was in utter darkness. During the production of this phenomenon, M. Meurice was heard to breathe heavily; he said he did not know why he felt obliged to do this; he complained of feeling suddenly very cold; at the same time, a cold perspiration broke out on his forehead. He also said that he felt the need of stretching himself and yawning.

“An interval of ten minutes now passed. Then M and X saw an amorphous luminosity gradually form in front of the cabinet, and make slight movements in the direction of the table at which the experimenters were sitting. M, by the light of this luminosity, sees the curtain slowly open, and close again as the light disappears.

“R sees nothing definite. He thinks he sees a cloud-like substance, but is not sure of its objectivity (because of his position?).

“As in the case of the first luminosity, so for this second one, M. Meurice declares that the cabinet is lighted up within, becoming dark when M and X see the light. He has the same sensations of cold. In addition, he says he feels tired, and asks to be allowed to discontinue the seance.

“No odour of phosphorus was perceptible, although the lights we observed had something of a phosphorescent appearance; but I think it would be more correct were I to compare what I saw on this occasion with the Milky Way; in fact, these luminosities presented an appearance almost exactly similar to that presented by the Orion nebulæ, when seen through the telescope.

“The medium looked pale and tired, when we closed the seance, but he quickly recovered his vitality, and during dinner—scarcely an hour later—some fine telekinetic movements of a heavy walnut dining-table were forthcoming in, of course, full light. Seeing the table move, apparently of its own accord, we joined hands two feet above the table, and succeeded in making it follow the direction our hands took: now an inch to the right, now three inches to the left, etc.; we had, finally, a strong, rotatory movement of six inches. The medium’s knees and feet were under Professor Richet’s observation, while these movements were being produced.”

Third Seance

“Thursday, 3rd November 1904.

“For this seance, because of Professor Richet’s inability to see the lights, which were visible to M and X at the preceding seance, the experimenters change their places, and sit in the following manner:—

“Professor Richet goes into the cabinet at the medium’s request, the latter takes R’s place at the table. After an interval of ten minutes, the medium goes into the cabinet and R takes his new place at the table.

“Almost immediately, lights are seen moving about on the door of the cabinet. R, M, and X all see these lights. M does not see the first two lights, which R and X mention seeing. He moves closer to R, and then sees distinctly. R has the impression that a ray of light from twelve to eighteen inches long, and varying from one to three inches wide, is placed at the opening in the curtains; he thinks he sees the curtains held open, so to say, by the light.

“The ray of light appears broader to X than to R and M. X says he distinctly sees the curtains move, and open; he has the same impression as R, namely that of the light holding the curtains apart.

“This luminous ray was shown six times, at intervals of a few seconds only. Its duration varied from ten seconds to a minute. In form, it was constantly changing, though the long ray remained. R, M, and X had the impression that the luminosity was forming around the ray. A long, vertical streak of light was shown first of all; the succeeding lights appeared to be built up around this ray, which always remained the centre of luminosity; i.e. the light, strong in the centre, died away to right and left, leaving no distinct outline to the luminosity which, besides being amorphous, was extremely mobile, though in a sense, fairly stationary. R, M, and X saw slight differences in the shape of the lights, a fact which was perhaps due to their relative positions; but all three agreed as to the vertical ray and the general shape the luminosity appeared to be assuming.

“From time to time, M. Meurice complained of an oppressive, suffocating sensation, and said that he felt he must open the curtains, for a few seconds. Whenever he opened the curtains, no lights were visible. M and X took hold of his hands when he opened the curtains, and closed the latter themselves, when M. Meurice said he felt better.

“At this seance, as before, the medium prepared us for each phenomenon, by announcing beforehand, that his cabinet was suddenly illuminated, and as suddenly darkened; the darkness inside corresponded to a luminosity outside the cabinet.

“The six lights above mentioned were very distinct, and very luminous (phosphorescent).

“The phenomena ceased for a few minutes. M. Meurice then asked to be allowed to change places with X. This is done; X remains a quarter of an hour in the cabinet, during which time M. Meurice says he sees an oval-shaped light, about three times the size of an egg, floating about on the curtains of the cabinet. R and M see nothing. The medium returns to the cabinet, and X resumes his seat. Immediately, large triangular-shaped luminosities are seen by M and R outside the cabinet. X has suddenly fallen asleep.

“M and R then see very mobile, amorphous lights, varying from three to nine inches in diameter, floating about X’s head for a few seconds; their luminosity is less great than that of the lights seen on the curtains, but is sufficiently pronounced to light up X’s forehead.

“The phenomena again cease. X awakens. M. Meurice asks Dr. Maxwell to change places with him. The doctor remains in the cabinet for ten minutes: no phenomena; M. Meurice returns to the cabinet, and M resumes his place at Professor Richet’s left.

“Very quickly, the same phenomena as before occur. The luminous ray assumes a broad, oval-shaped appearance; it measures about ten or twelve inches by about fifteen inches; it advances a few inches towards the table, and then disappears, to show itself, a few seconds later, larger, rounder in shape, and more brilliant. M and X think they can distinguish the outlines of a human face in this luminosity, but R says it appears amorphous to him.

“Shortly after this, M and X see a faintly luminous ball of about six inches in diameter, form outside the cabinet,—on the curtain—approach and float over the table above the experimenters’ hands. R sees this also, but compares it to a luminous fog. R cannot affirm the correctness of his last perception.

“Thereupon the seance terminated.

“During the production of these phenomena, M. Meurice complained of excessive cold; we heard him shivering, and his teeth chattering. He yawned frequently, and stretched himself repeatedly; he breathed heavily, and constantly complained of feelings of oppression and sea-sickness.

“When the seance was over, he complained of intense thirst and drank several glasses of water.

“The weather on these three days was very fine, dry, and fresh.

“The conclusions arrived at by those who were present at these three seances, are:—

“1. That the above-described luminosities were decidedly objective.

“2. That no oversight, no error of observation can explain them.”

The above compte rendu was drawn up by Professor Richet, Dr. Maxwell and Dr. X. at the end of the seances.

SERIES C
By Dr. X.

The reader will, perhaps, kindly forgive a few probably uninteresting but necessary details, before we enter upon the last series of these psycho-physical phenomena.

Many reasons, chiefly of a family nature, have rendered a substitution of names imperative. In other respects, and as far as the phenomena themselves are concerned, this series, like the foregoing, adheres most strictly to the facts as they occurred.

Early in 1903 a gentleman, whom we will call Mr. Stephens, a man occupying a high official position in Europe, wished to marry a young Swedish girl. Mr. Stephens’s parents having, it appears, made other matrimonial arrangements for their son, were most strongly opposed to his wishes. Mr. Stephens decided to follow his own inclinations, and was quietly married to Miss Marie H. in the beginning of the year 1903. He did not inform his family of the step he had taken, trusting to time and events for the strained relations between himself and his people to disappear.

A short time after his marriage, he received a peremptory call to a foreign country. It was impossible for his wife to accompany him, for three excellent reasons: 1. Mr. Stephens was not supposed to have a wife. 2. The spot he was ordered to is not a spot for a woman to visit—not being as yet civilised in the European sense of the word. 3. Mrs. Stephens had reason to believe she might become a mother. Moreover, Mr. Stephens did not anticipate a longer absence than that of six months.

Mr. and Mrs. Stephens had passed the interval between their marriage and the former’s departure for abroad in Paris. They lived very quietly, and had trusted their secret to no one. In the dilemma into which this foreign mission plunged them, Mr. Stephens decided to make a confidant of a particular friend, certain as he was that his secret would be in safe custody. This friend was Professor Richet.

......

Dr. X. writes:—“Mr. Stephens was anxious not to leave his wife alone in Paris, during his absence, and knowing that Professor Richet intended making a long series of experiments with Dr. Maxwell at W., he decided, for diverse reasons, to send his wife to the same locality. Thus it came about that Mrs. Stephens was invited by Professor Richet to join the investigating circle, a circle which it had been intended should be strictly limited to Dr. Maxwell, Professor Richet, the medium [M. Meurice] and myself. No one, save Professor Richet, knew of the foregoing details.

“When Mrs. Stephens arrived—her husband came with her, but only remained a couple of days—we saw a tall, slight, fair woman of twenty-two or twenty-three years of age,—a quiet, gentle, refined-looking woman. As she was, curiously enough, a spiritist, and even possessed ‘intuitive’ faculties of a pretty marked character,—she had had several veridical hallucinations, and occasionally indulged in spectrum gazing with fair results—her addition to the circle was looked upon by the other three members as having been decided by Professor Richet, because of her nascent psychical powers. No suspicion of her situation—of which even Mrs. Stephens herself was as yet uncertain—ever dawned across our minds. She was an early riser, a good walker, and apparently enjoyed the best of health. The most practical medical eye could have detected nothing abnormal in her health.

“Very much had been expected from this particular series of experiments; but, for reasons which are beyond our comprehension, comparatively little was received. There was every evidence of abundant force, and the medium was, at times, almost unnerved by our systematic lack of success.

“Throughout the whole of this particular series, more than ever did the agency manipulating the energy act like an independent intelligence, giving striking evidence of power when it cared to do so and, when not disposed to communicate, shutting off all communication most decidedly and completely.”

We propose setting forth succinctly, but in detail, the results, both mediocre and superior—and just as they occurred—of these few weeks of experimentation, leaving it to the reader to bestow an acute analysis upon them in his own guise. It was only as the time allotted this series drew to a close, that the phenomena took a personal turn, and bore so directly, and so intimately, upon Mrs. Stephens’s life.

The notes which are quoted in this series by Dr. X. are, without exception, Professor Richet’s.

......

First Seance. Time 8 to 10.30 p.m.

“Before sitting down,” continues Dr. X., “Dr. Maxwell had placed on the table a small cardboard box, in which were two amethyst crystal balls.

“The small table was six inches away from M. Meurice, and three inches away from Professor Richet. Contact had been purposely established between the two tables by means of a small white cloth—which did not interfere in any way with the control of eyesight. A bright, electric light was burning.

“Several visions were described; they offered little interest. Then the small table moved abruptly; it approached the seance table in jerks, covering, in this manner, a distance of two and a half inches. It was verified that no contact whatever existed, save that with the white cloth; the latter was not touched by M. Meurice. Then for nearly an hour there was complete cessation of all phenomena, with the exception of perpetual rapping without intelligence. Thinking nothing more would be forthcoming, Dr. Maxwell and Professor Richet rose from the table, and went out on to the balcony of the room in which the seance was being held. Mrs. Stephens, the medium, and I remained at the table. I asked M. Meurice how he proceeded when he wished to attract articles—up to that moment I had not witnessed this interesting phenomenon. He replied, ‘I have an odd sensation in my fingers, and I do this’—accompanying his words by certain hand movements; that is, he drew his hands together in front of and quite close to the cardboard box still lying on the table; he withdrew his hands—joined together at the finger-tips—very slowly, and, when the tips of his fingers were at a distance of six inches from the box, the latter began to move. It moved slowly and smoothly, without any jerking whatsoever, exactly as though it were being dragged across the table by a cord. I thought I perceived a tiny ray of light—something like a dewy spider’s web with the sunlight gleaming through it—connecting M. Meurice’s fingers with the box, but this was probably an illusion, as there was nothing palpable to the touch. I passed my hands around the box, and all over the medium’s hands and arms, but there was no thread of any kind whatever. M. Meurice said he had not seen the box move, though I observed he appeared to be gazing fixedly at it during the operation, and though the box travelled a distance of six inches.

“Without leaving my seat I called in Dr. Maxwell and Professor Richet, and told them what had happened. M. Meurice was asked to try again, while Professor Richet put out some of the lights, thinking thus to help the force, which might have been too severely tried by its last efforts. I take the following extract from Professor Richet’s notes:—

“‘The same phenomenon was reproduced in my presence, but with less light—quite sufficient, however, to see everything, and every movement distinctly. The box, slowly and without any apparent jerking, followed the medium’s fingers. I saw the box slowly displace itself, and drag itself over the plush-covered table, for a distance of nearly five inches. There was absolutely no contact of any kind whatsoever, either mediate or immediate. A strong gastric attack, quickly over, seized the medium after this experience.’[30]

“On resuming the seance the raps were asked, ‘Who is rapping?’

“Reply: ‘Antion.’ ‘Is it Antoine?’

“Reply: ‘Yes, Antoine Br.’ We arrested the communication at the letter r, understanding it to mean Antoine B. of A Complex Case, p. [214]. The raps then predicted the death of Madame B.’s second husband to take place in March 1904.”

[This premonition was not realised. The gentleman in question is in remarkably good health to-day, April 1905; but, at that time, Professor Richet was anxious about him. Dr. L. was utterly prostrated by the sudden death of his wife Madame B. Neither Dr. Maxwell nor the medium knew that Antoine B.’s widow had married a second time; nor were they aware of Professor Richet’s anxiety concerning Dr. L.’s health.[31]—Note by the Translator.]

“The communicating intelligence, purporting to be Antoine B., was then asked: ‘What was the nature of Madame B.’s illness?’ Reply: ‘Ness, foie.’ (The doctors who attended Madame B. when she died have not been able to agree as to what the malady was, though they think it was probably of a tubercular nature.)

“We asked Antoine B. for another sign of identity, and received the word ‘Carlos.’ (Professor Richet considers it highly probable that every one present knew that Antoine B. called him by that name.)

“‘When the raps dictated the name of Antoine B., the medium said he saw standing near me a young man of about thirty years of age; he had very soft blue eyes, and a short pointed beard. As far as it goes, this applies to my friend Antoine B.’, says Professor Richet.

......

“This first seance gave some fair results. We were now destined to pass several weeks without receiving a single phenomenon worth mentioning. We cannot account for this; though Dr. Maxwell is inclined to think, that the energy was spent in efforts made to obtain psychic photographs. The weather was excellent, every one was in good, even exuberant, health and spirits; the circle was very homogeneous; no a priori conditions had been laid down. Great things had been promised, but the great things were not forthcoming; and the ‘force’ did not deign to explain why, though it gave occasional signs of being to the fore, and ready to work if it cared to do so. For example, it would rap out as many airs and rhythms as requested, but took refuge in complete silence, or disorder, or pleaded fatigue, if asked for telekinetic phenomena or intelligent messages. It acted like a lazy child asked to accomplish a possible but difficult task.

......

“Photography was tried, but without success. On one of these occasions, when M. Meurice was re-entering his room after having sat for photography, he heard footsteps beside him, and had the vision of a form which interposed itself between himself and the door, as though desirous of preventing him from entering his room. He heard the words: ‘Pardon, je n’ai qu’un moment, vous avez déjà entendu parler de moi; je suis Antoine. Je viens voir mon fils.’ ... He then perceived the form of an old man, clean-shaven save for short whiskers; he was wearing the crimson robe of a magistrate. The hallucination quickly disappeared.

“No one, save Professor Richet, knew that this day was the anniversary of the death of his maternal grandfather, whose father’s name happened to be Antoine. But we were all aware that Professor Richet had received various communications purporting to emanate from these two ancestors of his. It was also known that his grandfather had presided over the law-courts at Paris.

......

“On one occasion, we had all five made an excursion into the country: and here I quote from Professor Richet’s notes:—‘Coming home—it was moonlight, and still twilight—we got down from the carriage—a private omnibus—to walk a while. Dr. Maxwell and M. Meurice lagged behind, and Dr. X., Mrs. S., and I got into the carriage again, before they had caught us up. As she was stepping in, Mrs. S. told me she felt as though a woman were running behind her, and were helping her into the carriage; seated, Mrs. S. continued to perceive this vision; it was wearing a hood on its head, and a cross on its breast; the vision bent its head over Mrs. S.’s hand, pressing its teeth on it “as though to show she had died in agony, stabbed to death,” said Mrs. S. When Dr. Maxwell and M. Meurice rejoined us, the former told me, in an undertone, that M. Meurice had just had a vision of a woman running behind Mrs. S.; the vision was wearing a hood on its head. M. Meurice and Mrs. S. continued to see this vision for above five minutes longer, when they both saw it disappear into a clump of trees. M. Meurice and Mrs. S. communicated their impressions to Dr. Maxwell and myself respectively.

“‘A few minutes afterwards, they both had another simultaneous vision. Mrs. S. saw a man astride one of the carriage-horses; M. Meurice, with an identical description of dress, saw a man not seated on, but running beside, the same horse holding the reins. He thought it was Chappe. Then everything disappeared.

“‘Neither visionary communicated their impressions to the other.’

......

“Exception made of the attractions of the box and table, the foregoing results will probably be considered as demonstrative of nothing in particular. We were now to receive something more interesting.

“Let it be said, en passant, that Mrs. Stephens never once saw the medium alone. There had not been the slightest break in her reserve. And all, save Professor Richet and herself, continued to think she had been invited by Professor Richet solely because of her psychical powers. M. Meurice sometimes remarked, seeking a reason for the inexplicable failure of the experiments, that he believed the cause lay in a super-abundance of power, that the psychic force was too great, that Mrs. S. gave forth too much power, etc.

“Now, early one morning, three weeks after we had begun this series, Mrs. Stephens remarked to Professor Richet that [I again quote from Professor Richet’s notes] ‘during the night she had been thinking a great deal about the Christ, and had said to herself, if the spirits of the deceased can appear to man, why not the Christ? And she said she had asked for a sign to be given her that this could be. Mrs. Stephens had scarcely pronounced these words, when Dr. Maxwell came into the sitting-room and said: “I have just seen M. Meurice, he had a vision while I was conversing with him. He said he perceived the form of a man with short hair and beard; a halo of light behind him, a circle of gold on his head; he was dressed in white; M. Meurice says it was the Christ. With an imperious air, the form showed him a thick yellow manuscript—a papyrus—covered with writing. As M. Meurice was trying to decipher the characters for me, the vision disappeared. M. Meurice was suddenly exhausted, and had a fit of weeping before recovering his normal condition.”

“‘A few mornings afterwards the medium had another vision. This time it was Chappe who came, it appears, to tell him that it was not the Christ whom he had seen, but a Christ.’[32]

......

“I must pause a while. It seems that Mrs. Stephens did not care about returning to Paris during her husband’s absence; and—in the event of her hopes being well founded—had expressed to Professor Richet her great desire of passing the rest of the year near Biarritz, a place for which she had a great liking. She begged Professor Richet to write for her to a house agent to procure her a villa in that town. It seems also, that Mrs. Stephens—though her manner had never betrayed this—had taken a fancy to the medium and his family; one of his sisters is an experienced hospital nurse, and Mrs. Stephens was wondering—in quiet conversation with Professor Richet only—if it would be possible to persuade her to come and live with her at Biarritz. Upon this conversation Professor Richet obtained the address of an agent, and wrote to him according to Mrs. Stephens’s wishes. He showed the letter to Mrs. Stephens. The latter said [again I quote from Professor Richet’s notes]: ‘Since I spoke to you about Biarritz, Chappe has told me something. He wants me to go to Bordeaux. Do not post that letter yet, let me wait a little while; if my intuition be correct, if the idea of Bordeaux really came from the spirits, they are quite capable of finding a way of indicating it to M. Meurice and Dr. Maxwell. I do not wish to speak of it myself to M. Meurice; this must come from the spirits themselves....’

“[We are endeavouring to give a faithful account of what actually occurred, and beg to be forgiven the unscientific language, which is occasionally unavoidable, if we are to convey a correct notion of the physiognomy of the phenomena.]

“Now the morning (a Thursday) following the day on which the above conversation had taken place, Mrs. Stephens came to Professor Richet, and told him she had passed a very strange and perturbed night. She said that, towards eleven o’clock, she was suddenly awakened by a sensation that some one was in her room; she was filled with fear. She turned on the light, but saw nothing. She kept the light burning, but still felt unaccountably frightened. She heard raps on the head of her bed. Gradually her fear quieted down, and she said she began to feel as though there were a host of spirits in her room, and a Great Presence was among them. ‘And she imagined,’ writes Professor Richet, ‘that a voice spoke to her in these terms: “A powerful spirit is here, be not afraid; it is the child’s guide; your child will be a boy; he has a great destiny before him, he will be a reformer. We counsel you not to force his inclinations, to choose no career for him, but to let yourself be guided by the child himself, when the time comes to think of his education.”

“‘Mrs. Stephens was still speaking of her night’s experience, when Dr. Maxwell came into the room, and handed me,’ continues Professor Richet, ‘some verses which, he said, had just been written by M. Meurice—a kind of quasi-automatism—in a state of semi-somnolence. He could not understand what it meant, and simply stated the fact without offering any comment on it.’”

Here are the verses. For the sake of brevity we omit five of them, they are in the same strain as those given. We believe the reader will prefer to see these verses in the original:—

Quand un enfant vient au monde,
Vient au monde d’ici-bas,
Il faut qu’un ange en réponde,
Et le suive pas à pas.

Pas à pas il faut qu’il guide
La petite âme en chemin,
La petite âme timide,
Qu’il doit prendre par la main.

Et les anges se querellent
Autour des bébés naissants,
S’ils sont de ceux-là qu’appellent
Vers la Clarté les Puissants.

Dans la foule qui l’assaille
La petite âme choisit;
Elle est émue et tressaille,
Et la crainte la saisit.

Il faut qu’autour de la mère,
De la mère qui l’attend,
Seuls les anges de lumière
Guettent le petit enfant.

“During the course of the day, Professor Richet said to Mrs. S. that it would perhaps be well if she spoke to the medium about his sister; but Mrs. Stephens answered: ‘No. Wait a little longer. I would have spoken to M. Meurice, had I been encouraged to do so by the spirits; but I think it better to let the spirits tell them.’

“Thursday passed away without any further incident, and nothing was said to Dr. Maxwell concerning Mrs. Stephens’s experiences in the night, or the concomitant nature of the automatic script with those experiences.

“On Friday morning, Dr. Maxwell told Professor Richet that he had just obtained more automatic writing through M. Meurice. This writing purported to be a communication from Chappe. The communication concerned Mrs. Stephens, said Dr. Maxwell, but was not to be given to her for the time being. Chappe asked that a sitting might be arranged for on the same afternoon, as he had something to say. The sitting took place; it lasted from two to six o’clock, during the whole of which time Chappe did not once make use of his well-known subterfuges of ‘fatigue,’ ‘silence,’ ‘no power,’ etc.; and, though as the seance wore on M. Meurice was very visibly fatigued, the operating agency manifested absolute indifference to such fatigue. It was as though Chappe had indeed something to say and meant to say it. The messages were given by means of raps without contact to begin with, but in order to diminish the chances of fatigue to the medium, we begged him to use the pencil as a rapping instrument. The light was strong,—an afternoon summer sunlight shining into the room; the pencil did not move when the raps were heard. The latter were given with force and without any hesitation; they were as strong at the end of the seance as at the beginning.”

(In order to afford the reader every assistance in his appreciation and analysis of these messages, we will give them in the original.)

“Chappe gave his special signal intimating he was present.

“Observer: ‘You wish to speak with us, Chappe?’

“Chappe: ‘Je veux demander à vos amis la permission de vous parler de ce qui vous intéresse.’

“Acting on the advice of Chappe, we then traced the ‘magic circle’ in order to prevent, as Chappe said, the intervention of too many influences, and to preserve purity in the phenomena.

“Observer, after an interval of ten minutes: ‘Are you ready, Chappe?’

“Much confusion in the raps, and impossibility of obtaining an intelligent answer; after half an hour of confusion came the laboriously spelt out message:—

“Chappe: ‘Peut-être que vous êtes isolés.’

“Observer: ‘Why?’

“Chappe: ‘Parce que vous les avez renvoyés, cercle magique.’

“We were led to understand by this that the magic circle had had too good an effect, and prevented even Chappe from communicating with his companions. Once more we followed his instructions, inviting our ‘friends’ into the circle. It was then announced that Robert, one of Mrs. Stephens’s deceased relatives, was present and wished to speak. When asked what he had to say, we received:—

“Robert: ‘Bonnes fées qui entourent et qui m’empêchent de vous rejoindre.’

“We begged the ‘good fairies’ to be so kind as to allow this friend to communicate. The raps indicated that the favour was accorded, and that our friend could now communicate with us.

“Robert: ‘VOS ESPÉRANCES SONT REÇUES AVEC JOIE PAR TOUS.’

“Observer: ‘What do you mean? Give one significative word.’

“Robert: ‘ENFANT PRÉDESTINÉ À FAIRE SCIENTIFIQUEMENT DE GRANDES CHOSES.’

“Mrs. Stephens: ‘What child?’

“Robert: ‘Le vôtre; il arrivera, il faut être heureuse, vous aurez tant de bonheur.’

“Observer: ‘Have you anything more to say?’

“Robert: ‘Appelle ton enfant Chétien Alexandre.’

“Observer: ‘Is Chétien Alexandre correct?’

“Robert: ‘Alexandre Chrétien.’[33]

“Observer: ‘Can you predict on what day he will be born?’

“Robert: ‘Oui. Épiphanie.’[34]

“Mrs. Stephens: ‘Do you know who the child’s guide is?’

“Robert: ‘Oui.’

“Mrs. Stephens: ‘What is his name?’

“Robert: ‘Réponse plus tard.’

“Observer: ‘Have you anything more to say?’

“Robert: ‘Prudence.’ For whom? ‘Marie’ (Mrs. Stephens). ‘Au revoir.’

“At the end of the above seance Dr. Maxwell handed Professor Richet the automatic script he had received in the morning. It read: ‘... (Mrs. Stephens) est en voie de famille. Elle désire aller à Biarritz et que (the name of the medium’s sister) l’accompagne. Mais dites lui d’aller à Bordeaux, où elle sera mieux soignée et où les influences sont bonnes.’

......

“A few days after the above messages had been received, the raps again signified their desire to communicate. The following conversation then took place.

“Observer: ‘Who is here?’

“Reply: ‘Robert. Ménagez Marie. Marie ... Aesotheu ...’ (change of tonality, and Chappe’s signal was given).

“Chappe: ‘Restez un moment tranquille. Il y a trop de monde.’

“(Another change of tonality in the raps, followed by C. R.’s signal—Professor Richet’s grandfather.)

“C. R. ‘Quelque force mauvaise m’empêche de vous parler.’ (Confusion for some time; raps of various tonalities and in great number resound on the woodwork of the foot of the medium’s bed—we were holding the seance in his room by Chappe’s express desire.)

“Chappe: ‘Je ne veux pas qu’on se serve de cette chambre.’

“Observer: ‘Why?’

“Chappe: ‘Parce que Meurice y couche.’

“Observer: ‘Where shall we go then?’

“Chappe: ‘Où vous voudrez.’

“This was not by any means the first time we had held a seance in M. Meurice’s room, no objection had ever been made to this proceeding before, which, in fact, had been recommended by Chappe.

“It was impossible to obtain another sign of any nature whatsoever. Professor Richet, Mrs. Stephens, and I went out of the room, leaving Dr. Maxwell and the medium alone. We had scarcely left when the latter, it appears, turned to Dr. Maxwell and said: ‘I see Professor Richet tearing up some printed matter and burning it. I think it is the bad influence Chappe was speaking about.’

“We three alone, commenting upon these messages, laid stress upon the excuse of ‘bad influences,’ and thought it was probably one of Chappe’s tricks to avoid working, when it did not suit him to work. But suddenly Professor Richet remembered a piece of newspaper which he had put into his inner breast coat-pocket early that same morning, and on which was the name of a man who had been drowned the previous week—drowned before our eyes. This event had left a great impression on us all, every one had made strenuous efforts to save the man, and the medium in particular had striven hard to restore life. Professor Richet, coming across the man’s name in a newspaper, had cut it out, and put the slip into his pocket-book, for reference sake, in case the phenomena should turn upon the drowned man. No one was near or could possibly have seen Professor Richet do this; he also took the precaution of destroying the paper from which he had taken the announcement.

“Now Professor Richet took the cutting out of his pocket-book, tore it up and burnt it before Mrs. Stephens and myself, laughingly saying: ‘Let us see if that will destroy the bad influence.’

“It was not till some hours afterwards, that he was told of what M. Meurice had said relative to the ‘burning of printed matter,’ etc.

......

“The next day, M. Meurice gave a fine phenomenon of attraction in presence of Professor Richet and Dr. Maxwell. It was two o’clock in the afternoon; the two latter were playing chess; M. Meurice was lying on the floor reading; a fan was on the floor near him. He said: ‘I begin to feel the cobwebby sensation in my fingers; let us see if I can attract this fan.’ Dr. Maxwell and Professor Richet left the table, and knelt down on the floor beside M. Meurice; the latter proceeded, first of all, as though he were enveloping the fan with something; then, meeting his hands at the finger-tips, he drew them back very slowly. When his fingers were about six inches away from the fan, the latter moved, and slowly followed his fingers for a distance of five inches. Professor Richet and Dr. Maxwell assured themselves by sight and touch, that the fan was not normally connected with the medium. The latter had a violent gastric attack immediately after the production of this phenomenon.

......

“Professor Richet’s birthday occurred during these investigations, and, when the day arrived, we ventured to express a hope that he might be favoured with some good phenomena. We tried, and received abundant signs of energy in the shape of raps. Chappe was asked if he had not something to say or offer Professor Richet as a birthday present.

“Reply: ‘Depuis votre naissance vous avez grandi! Vous aurez des communications plus intéressantes, que celles que vous avez reçues.’

“At this point some one asked the medium if he felt tired, and Chappe at once dictated:—

“‘Il faut pour un moment se reposer si on est fatigué.’ However, no notice was taken of this advice.

“Prof. R: ‘Why has my mother never communicated?’

“Chappe: ‘Parce que vous ne l’avez jamais appelée.’[35]

“Here the raps indicate that ‘C. R.’ wishes to communicate.

“C. R. (Prof. Richet’s grandfather): ‘Je suis très content d’être avec vous.’ Much confusion and meaningless rapping. ‘Ici.’

“Chappe: ‘G. ne vous reverra pas.’

“Prof. R.: ‘Can you tell me my mother’s name?’

“Chappe: ‘Je pourrai le dire quand je le saurai.’

“There was a brief silence, during which Chappe was supposed to be asking C. R. for the desired name.

“Chappe: ‘Adèle.’ Wrong. But it was known that this was a family name.

“C. R.: ‘Veux-tu voir ta mère? Fais attention. Cette nuit elle t’apparaîtra en rêve.’ This promise was not fulfilled.

“Prof. R.: ‘Try again for my mother’s name.’

“C. R.: ‘A—o—a—m—e; Marig; Antoine; ther.’

“There was no approach to the desired name. There was plenty of energy, and the raps flowed quickly and without hesitation in certain instances, such as ‘Veux-tu voir ta mère?’

“Chappe: ‘Prudence.’

“Observer: ‘Why?’

“Observer: ‘Can you now give the name of the child’s guide?’

“Chappe: ‘Plus tard. Adieu.’

“The communicating intelligence frequently manifests—a fact which was particularly noticeable during this series of experiments—a supreme indifference to scientific aspirations, to furnishing proofs of identity or of any desire to meet the investigator halfway, and help him in his researches.

“Since the communications concerning Mrs. Stephens had been received, whenever it was intimated that ‘they’ had something to say, that something was generally the word ‘Prudence’ or terms of a like signification.

“The agency at work allowed it to be clearly seen that—for the time being at least—it interested itself in no one save in Mrs. Stephens. This solicitude was continued up to the last; time after time the word ‘Prudence’ was uttered, so often in fact as to lose all meaning from sheer force of repetition; and no out-of-the-way heed was taken of the advice.

“This series of experiments came to an end.

“Mrs. Stephens took a villa on the outskirts of Bordeaux, where the medium’s sister joined her.

......

“It appears that Mrs. Stephens looked forward with unusual joy to the coming event, and was much opposed to the idea of a wet nurse. I was now at Bordeaux; I often saw Mrs. Stephens, and it is highly probable that M. Meurice, like myself, knew of Mrs. Stephens’s very legitimate desire. Now Chappe had, for some time, given no sign of his presence; but one day, when M. Meurice, Mrs. S., and I were out walking, sharp raps suddenly resounded on the medium’s walking-stick. Mrs. S. begged him to touch the handle of her umbrella—which was open; raps were then given on the outstretched silk. With loud decided raps, Chappe quickly dictated: ‘Retenez bien ceci, il ne faut pas laisser Marie allaiter.’ We asked the wherefore, but the silence was complete; do what we would, not another rap could be obtained.

“On another occasion, when raps were forthcoming, we asked Chappe for a word which would portray the state of mind of those present, and received the very appropriate reply: ‘Paix absolue.’ This message was given on the silk of the open umbrella, M. Meurice lightly touching the handle only.

“As the 6th of January drew near, Chappe began to get nervous about the fate of the prediction, and, by means of automatic writing, he indicated that we were to remember, that it was not he, but Robert, who had predicted that the birth would take place on the 6th January. Thereupon, he added that the event would not occur before the 15th of January—that it would take place on the night of the 14th-15th January. During the last fortnight this was often referred to by Chappe, by means of automatic writing—which perhaps gives more scope for the play of the subliminal. Chappe washed his hands, so to say, of Robert and his doings.

“Towards the 20th of December, Mrs. Stephens received news that her husband was on his way home, but was feeling rather unwell. In the letter, the word ‘néphrite’ was made use of. Mrs. S. did not mention this to any one; she said, however, that her husband had a slight kidney worry. The next day, the following communication, bearing upon Mr. S.’s anticipated arrival in Bordeaux, was received from Chappe by raps through the pencil:—

“‘Il faut que vous l’empêchiez de se mettre en route pour Bordeaux.’

“Why? ‘Maladie sérieuse s’il avait froid.’ What is he suffering from? ‘Néphrite. Recommandez repos absolu; bonsoir.’

“On another occasion, always referring to the same subject, Mr. S.’s indisposition, Chappe said: ‘Pas sage de faire le trajet de Londres à Bordeaux. Rassurez-vous. Maladie pas grave.’

“The child—a boy—was born at 2.15 on the afternoon of the 5th January, that is, on the eve of the Epiphany—and not on the Epiphany as was predicted (page [355]).[36]

......

“Mrs. Stephens desired to add the name of Quentin to the names of Alexandre Chrétien. I happened to mention this to M. Meurice, and by so doing awakened Chappe and a salvo of raps. He would not say what he wanted, and M. Meurice remarked: ‘We are to go into Mrs. Stephens’s bedroom.’ We were admitted. M. Meurice stood near the head of the bed, but did not touch it. The raps resounded on the wood of the bed. Chappe dictated: ‘Il ne faut pas appeler Quentin.’ The force was abundant, and this message had been given quickly and with decision; yet, when we asked why the child should not be called Quentin, we could get no reply. It was for all the world as though a distinct intelligence was behind those raps, one, who, like ourselves, knew, on occasion, how to say: ‘I have said; let that suffice.’

“For a week, all went well with mother and child. Seven days after the child’s birth, Mrs. Stephens was seized with a violent and inexplicable fever. The following day, a thoughtless servant handed her a telegram; the telegram announced the death of her husband. The fever regained possession, and Mrs. Stephens died the same night.

“Perhaps in conclusion, and as our only comment on this history, it may not be out of place to recall to mind Chappe’s oft-repeated word, ‘Prudence.’”

......

And now, lest in the relation of the foregoing experiences, say rather in this simple registration of a few ascertained facts, we be reproached for a language which carries associations from which certain minds of a scientific bent may shrink, may we be permitted to say that there is more appearance than reality in our backsliding—if backsliding there be. We have given an exposition of facts, touching upon unknown forces and arduous problems; the magnitude and complexity of which we realise but too deeply—problems which cannot be solved by academic methods. Time and patient constancy of research are needed to bring them to a successful issue.

[17] It is scarcely necessary for me to certify to the accuracy of the phenomena mentioned in this chapter, especially when I am spoken of as having been present.—Maxwell.

[18] The amnesia, which appears to follow medianic phenomena, bears a certain relation to the amnesia which follows dreams. It is probably due to the weakness of the links between the conscious personality and the forgotten images. The links exist, but are not strong enough to bind those images to the usual stream of personal consciousness. They serve as clues, however, and the reappearance of the images at a given moment is due to the working of the usual laws of association.—Maxwell.

[19] ‘Vous voyez, cher ami, que depuis que nous avons expérimenté ensemble, votre influence persiste et nos phénomènes physiques s’orientent vers les messages intellectuels.’—Extract from a letter written by Dr. Maxwell to Professor Richet six weeks after the first series of experiments with Professor Richet were held.

[20] H. B.’s Christian name finds its equivalent in French in the name which had been ‘rapped out’ in the first instance. Dr. Maxwell explained this fact to the rapping force, whereupon the name was correctly given.

This detail of the Christian and surnames is not demonstrative as identity, because (1) the remarks made by Dr. Maxwell were sufficient to have ‘fixed’ any one who had the slightest knowledge of the language in question; (2) because the medium already knew the surname of Dr. Maxwell’s friend. We must not forget, however, that the raps were given without contact.—Note by the Translator.

[21] M. Meurice was aware of the fact that H. B. had bequeathed many things to Dr. Maxwell. He knew, for example, that the latter wears a watch which was given him by H. B. And as Dr. Maxwell also wears, attached to his watch, a gold chain and trinkets, normal mental activity might here have been at work.—Note by the Translator.

[22] M. Meurice’s house bore the reputation of being haunted before he took it. He was unaware of this, until the neighbours told him of it some months after he was settled in the house.—Note by the Translator.

[23] See page [160].

[24] Among Dr. Maxwell’s notes is the following account, written to Professor Richet, of a seance at which the doctor was present; and of some subsequent phenomena which he did not witness, but which the reader may consider interesting, nevertheless:—

19th March 1904.—‘Yesterday afternoon I obtained some automatic writing with our medium. Chappe and H. B. were said to be communicating, and giving me their views about the war. We then used the commodious Chappe telephone—my stylograph on this occasion. The raps were excellent. The weather was good, fairly cold, but dry. When the last word of a message was being spelt out, Meurice suddenly threw away the pen and broke up the seance, without going through the usual formalities of good-bye. He rose up from his seat, complained of feeling dizzy, and fainted. He quickly came to, however, and when I left him he appeared quite well again. But soon after I had left the house, he went into his sister’s room, and again fainted.

‘Now, I had often told him not to break off the communications so abruptly. I think the fatigue he sometimes experiences after phenomena—fatigue often out of all proportion with them—is due to his brusquerie. On this occasion I am sure there was some link between him and the table on which the rapping occurred. Unfortunately, friendship mastered science, and I rose up instantly to look after my friend, without stopping to ascertain if there were any trace of exteriorised sensibility in the table. It is very probable that such was the case, because I repeatedly assured myself, during the course of the seance, that there was absolutely no sensibility whatever in the hand which was holding the stylograph—the rapping implement.

‘During the seance Chappe had dictated that his medium was going to give “displacements of objects,” and he bade him take heed thereof. M. Meurice’s house is, this week, filled with visitors—his sister and her children among others. For want of room, he has taken his young nephew, a child of seven years old, into his room to sleep with him. Now, last night he was awakened towards midnight by his bed moving about. His sister, sleeping in the next room, also heard these noises; thinking her brother was ill, she got up and went into his room. She saw a curious sight: the bed was gliding, of its own accord, towards the window! She sat down on a sofa and watched; the room was lighted up by the light of one candle. The bed moved up to a table near the window, i.e. a distance of three feet; the carpet was not disturbed. The bed returned slowly to its former position. The child did not awaken. The sister is not aware of her brother’s powers; if she were told, she would probably be much distressed, as she puts all such phenomena a priori down to charlatanry or to superstition. She was alarmed at the manifestation, ascribed the movements to “ghosts,” and firmly believes that the house is haunted.’ (This sister does not live in Bordeaux, and has never been told of the reputation the house enjoyed before her brother took possession of it.)

[25] The reader may care to see Dr. Maxwell’s detailed report to Professor Richet of the above incident:—

‘On Sunday morning Meurice was out driving. A short distance from Bordeaux his carriage collided with a milk-cart; the shafts of the latter crashed through one of the carriage windows. At the same time an electric tram, unable to pull up in time, struck the carriage in the rear. The coachman was thrown from his seat on to the ground, where he lay unconscious. He was wounded near the left eye, ... his face was covered with blood.

‘At the moment the collision with the tram took place, Meurice quickly opened the carriage door with the natural intention of jumping out; but he felt himself suddenly lifted up and carried on to the footpath, a distance of ten feet. He saw no one.

‘He probably jumped of his own accord, and the sensation he experienced was but the symbolical expression of the solicitude the personifications show for him. The protector was supposed to be H. B.

‘Now, on Saturday afternoon, the eve of the day on which the above accident occurred, I had a seance with my friend. We tried for luminous phenomena, but the experiment was null. Towards the close of the seance, Meurice said he saw the face of a dead man, with a wound on the left temple, the face was covered with blood. I asked who it was, and received by raps without contact: “Suicide, victime d’amour, Gaston”; the raps refused to give the surname. The aspect of the coachman’s face after the accident the next morning somewhat recalls the aspect of the vision; if we accept this, there is a curious mixture of true and false, the false showing forth when our personal activity intervenes in order to question: a fact which I have often observed.

‘The accident occurred between ten and a quarter past ten o’clock. My friend’s youngest sister—a young girl of twenty—is paying him a visit this week. Now, this Sunday morning she went into the kitchen at ten o’clock, looking very distressed, and said to the servants that she felt sure an accident had happened to her brother. The sister’s and servants’ versions concorded absolutely when questioned a few hours later on this coincidence.’

[26] The following is Dr. Maxwell’s detailed report of this incident as contained in a letter to Professor Richet:—

‘... There was nothing we might say but twaddle in the writing which followed, e.g. expressions of pleasure on the part of H. B. in that he was able to communicate with me, his long efforts to reach me, etc., when suddenly, at 5.30, without any rhyme or reason, so to say, our medium wrote (always under the influence of the H. B. personification): “Offer me some brandy and water....” Now, during fifty years H. B. had not been known to miss taking a glass of brandy and water every afternoon at half-past five. He was not in the habit of taking this concoction at other hours of the day; so that the coincidence is, to say the least, striking and curious....’

[27] Neither L. nor C. have ever lived in Bordeaux. In fact H. B. was the only member of his family to leave his native land.

[28] See page [359].

[29] “Concerning the statuette: the medium was—two months previous to the seance here spoken of—given the catalogue of a sale of antiquities to be held at Bordeaux. When going to bed he took the catalogue to glance over it; but he says he was so sleepy, that he did not get any further than the first page. In the night, he dreamt that he was to buy No. 256 in the catalogue, which—he was told in his dream—was the Christ of whom he had seen the vision a few months previously, when Madame Stephens was with us. (See Series C, page [349].)

“When the medium awakened, he looked up No. 256, and found that it was an ancient wooden statuette of St. John the Baptist.”—Note by Dr. X.

[30] This phenomenon may be considered of such importance as to necessitate Professor Richet’s exact words being given; I therefore append them:—

‘Un autre phénomène d’attraction très remarquable. Une petite boîte en carton carrée de 0.02 de côté environ est attirée, d’abord en pleine lumière devant Dr. X. Le même phénomène s’est reproduit devant moi avec beaucoup moins de lumière.... La boîte était lentement et sans secousse, pendant 2 à 4 secondes, attirée par les doigts du médium et je l’ai vue se déplacer ainsi lentement, en traînant sur la peluche jusqu’à 12 centimètres environ. Il n’y a absolument aucun contact, ni médiat ni direct. (Crise gastrique forte et passagère du médium à la suite de cette expérience.)’

[31] ‘Since the above was written, Dr. George L.’s son, Olivier, a youth of nineteen, has been killed in a railway accident (see p. [234]). Notwithstanding the errors, there is a certain interest in the fact that the rapping force seemed to sense some near tragic occurrence to some member of the family. The raps first of all gave the surname L. of the person destined to die shortly; it was only after much hesitation that the name of George was given. The raps at first refused to give the date, but, after much pressing, dictated March 1904.

‘Professor Richet did not tell any one that Madame X. had already predicted the early death “of one of the sons.”’—Note by Dr. X.

[32] See [note], p. [329].

[33] “The medium has frequently said that if he ever had a son, he would call him Chrétien. The name Alexandre was also constantly on our lips, for two personifications, who frequently claimed to be communicating, were called Alexandre.

[34] “Mrs. Stephens had a preference for the Epiphany, and she told us, after the seance, that she had mentally asked her child might be born on that day—the 6th of January.”—Note by Dr. X.

[35] “True; but then neither was C. R. nor Antoine B. nor any other personification ever evoked.”—Note by Dr. X.

[36] “On the 4th January, Mrs. Stephens was particularly anxious about her husband, and insisted on driving into Bordeaux and personally sending him a telegram. Without a doubt, the anxiety and physical restlessness of the previous few days hastened the event.”—Note by Dr. X.

CHAPTER VII
FRAUD AND ERROR

This work would be incomplete, if I did not carefully examine fraud and errors of observation. The first should always be considered as possible. Errors of observation are even more numerous than fraud, and their sources are manifold. We should study them, learn their causes, and suspect them until the contrary has been proved.

I. FRAUD

Fraud can be conscious, unconscious, or mixed. I have no need to say how frequent the first is, especially with paid mediums. Spiritistic reviews, notably the Revue Spirite, Revue Morale et Scientifique du Spiritisme, Light, Psychische Studien, give many examples of fraud discovered by spiritists themselves. Unconscious fraud is no less common than conscious fraud; as for the third, mixed fraud, this is also very often observed.

Conscious fraud.—(a) Raps. Nothing is easier to imitate. I have indicated the diverse ways of reproducing them artificially: gliding the finger or nail along the top of the table, with or without the help of resin; rapping with the feet; gliding the foot or dress—especially silk dresses—against the legs of table, etc. These diverse movements imitate feeble raps to perfection, if they be slowly made. For that reason I have always refused to consider raps as convincing when produced with any contact whatever. Consequently I exclude raps produced on the floor from those phenomena which have determined my conviction. Certain persons seem to be able to move their tendons at will, even making a considerable noise in that way. I observed this with a medical student who, by resting his elbow on the table, produced very sonorous raps; but the movement of his arm was easily seen. I know another person who could crack his joints at will.

The play of the knee-joint has been especially incriminated by Mrs. Sidgwick in her article ‘The Physical Phenomena of Spiritualism’ (Proceedings of the S.P.R. xiii. 45). She recalls to mind the interpretations given by Drs. Lee, Flint, and Coventry, who observed Mrs. Kane and Mrs. Underhill, two of the famous Fox sisters. Mrs. Sidgwick experimented with the third sister, Mrs. Jencken, and accepted the explanation of the American doctors. For them, the double raps were produced by a rapid movement of dislocation and readjustment of the knee. By placing in such a position as to render that voluntary dislocation impossible, e.g. by making the medium sit down with outstretched legs and heels resting on a soft cushion, no raps were forthcoming. It is possible that the explanation of the American doctors may be true concerning the case examined by them. In those which I have studied, it is certainly not acceptable. I have obtained raps on a table without any kind of contact whatsoever. I have obtained them on the floor, by placing the medium in positions which excluded the play of articulation. The kind of fraud in question was not therefore in operation. I have even made some mediums sit on my knees when raps were forthcoming; I then made sure the raps were produced on the table, and that the latter was not touched. My conclusion as to the reality of the phenomenon of raps is the result of nearly two hundred observations.

In obscurity, the means of cheating are unimaginable. I saw a young medium, who had succeeded in concealing a stick, simulate raps on the ceiling with it. I have known two others hit the table with their fists, kick it with their feet, etc. Everything is possible in darkness, and with certain confiding observers.

(b) Parakinesis, or abnormal movements of objects with contact. I have often said that all movements with contact—except certain levitations which are, however, difficult to observe with precision—are worthless. I have indicated the chief ways of simulating levitations, either by the hands, the feet or the knees. I will not revert to this.

These methods are difficult in full light, but when the experimenters are placed in such a position as to be unable to keep a reciprocal watch over the feet, the second method is still easily brought into play.

(c) Telekinesis.—Fraud is more difficult to perpetrate here. A connecting link of some kind or other would be required to move objects possessing a certain weight and bulk. I look upon this phenomenon as most convincing, when it is obtained in full light; in obscurity, it is to a certain extent unverifiable.

(d) Luminous phenomena are easily simulated; phosphorescent oil and certain sulphides give excellent imitations of hands and forms. I have seen a photograph taken by magnesian light in a seance for materialisation. The medium, by way of imitating a materialised garment of some kind, had wound a white cloth around his neck, and moreover wore a false beard. Those present at this seance will not admit they were cheated. One of the sitters, a friend of mine, one familiar with psychical matters, but too honest himself to suspect fraud in others, did not think my judgment in this case was correct. It was necessary to have it confirmed by the celebrated Papus!

As for the phenomenon of attouchements, this is of all phenomena the most easily simulated in obscurity.

Every one knows the rôle played by dolls, disguises and confederates in seances for materialisation. The trickster’s imagination is of inconceivable fertility. The recent Rothe trial gives us a fresh example of this.

(e) Motor and sensory automatisms can be imitated with extreme facility, and their efficacious control is impossible. A careful analysis of the messages is necessary in order to appreciate their value. On the other hand, well-observed premonitions are of immense importance.

From the preceding, we see that all psychical phenomena can be simulated; this does not mean that every psychical phenomenon is simulated. Those who wish to explain away everything by fraud make as great a mistake, as those who trustingly accept everything without control.

There is an important general observation to be made concerning the phenomena I am treating in this book. It is of historical order, but nevertheless it gives a much wider signification to these facts than is usually accorded them. Many writers, Janet among them, imagine that spiritistic phenomena, as they call them, date from the celebrated events of Rochester, about the year 1847, where the Fox sisters were the objects of diverse manifestations. But in reality these facts date much further back. One of the best observed cases is the one spoken of by Dr. Kerner in his book Die Seherin von Prevorst, which has been translated by Dr. Dusart into French, probably from Mrs. Crowe’s English translation. Kerner observed raps and movements without contact from the year 1827, when he had Madame Hauff staying in his house.

Phenomena of the same kind are to be met with in accounts of haunted houses. There are stories of this kind dating from remote epochs, and diverse decrees of parliament exist cancelling leases for this cause. These phenomena were criticised at the end of the eighteenth century.

It is only the metaphysical system founded upon these facts which is new. It is in that, and in that only, that spiritism or spiritualism consists. It is undeniable that the doctrine embodying the essence of these teachings has attained a considerable extension. I pointed out the radical differences existing between the beliefs of Anglo-Saxon spiritists and those of spiritists of other nationalities, particularly in that which concerns reincarnation. I will not go back to this; but in order to specify the point in question, I will recall to mind that the only new phenomena which spiritistic forms of contemporary mysticism offer, are their constitution into a body of religious doctrines and their rapid extension. These phenomena are of sociological, not biological order. The facts upon which they are based belong, on the contrary, to biology.

Further, it is not absolutely true to say, that the metaphysical theories established upon the revelations of spirits are new. The life of some of the ‘saints’ in the Roman Church offers us several examples, one of the most celebrated being the devotion to the Sacrè Cœur de Jésus,’ a special kind of worship based upon revelations claimed to have been accorded to a nun named Marie Alacoque, who lived in the eighteenth century. Monastic life has not the monopoly of such experiences. Commerce with spirits appears to be likewise one of the elements of the religious ceremonies of the Shakers; even the Mormons seem to indulge in practices similar to those of spiritism; Jérôme Cardan, John Dee, Martinez de Pasqually pass for having held intercourse with immaterial beings; members of the order of the Red Cross have also been looked upon as holding frequent intercourse with diverse genii. If we study the history of human thought, we see that nothing is really new, nothing save perhaps the contemporary extension of spiritism. From many points of view, spiritism appears to play a rôle in the civilised, sceptical, material society of to-day, analogous to the simple rôle which Christianity played in the second and third centuries of our era.

But this is a sociological problem; its examination, however interesting it may be, would lead me beyond the limits I have traced for myself. I will confine myself, therefore, to drawing from the brief historical account I have just given, the conclusion it admits of. The facts studied by Janet and others are anterior to spiritism, and cannot be legitimately designated by this name. I have already indicated that this word expresses an ensemble of metaphysical and religious doctrines explaining psychical phenomena by the intervention of spirits, and drawing their teachings from the revelations attributed to these same spirits. It is terminologically incorrect to designate these facts by a word which has a wider signification, since it expresses an explanatory hypothesis of these same facts.

Custom has consecrated the word ‘psychical’ facts or phenomena: this term is also imperfect, and it seems to me preferable to adopt the new term Metapsychical which Richet recommends.

Therefore, in the actual state of research, the scientific problem, it seems to me, is not whether spiritism be true or false, but whether metapsychical phenomena be real or imaginary.

As Richet and Ochorowicz have said, every medium may defraud, and the analysis of fraud is one of the most complicated problems which the study of psychical phenomena presents. It is also one of the most interesting. The Cambridge[37] experiments with Eusapia Paladino put clearly before us the question of fraud and its signification.

Before entering upon the psychological examination of fraud, it appears to me necessary to explain the signification of the terms I am going to use, and after that to classify medianic phenomena.

It is of primary importance to determine the correct signification of the expression consciousness.[38] There are few words in philosophical language which have such diverse acceptations. As my conception of consciousness is somewhat special without at the same time being peculiar to me, I owe it to my readers to say what I mean to designate by this term.

I conceive consciousness, lato sensu, as a function of living matter. It is the particular state which determines in organised and living matter another state of the centre where this matter lives. It is, if you like, a kind of reaction of the living matter in harmony with external phenomena. This mode of reaction, like every other mode of reaction, allows of two conditions: some sort of sensibility to the action of the ambient, permitting variations thereof to be felt; some sort of activity which permits of realising an adaptation to the ambient, and of producing internal modifications corresponding, in some measure, to the perceived external modifications. In order that the internal modifications may realise this equilibrium, they must not go beyond a certain amplitude, whence the theoretic necessity for the sensibility to be always apprised of the internal modifications of the living substance, as it perceives the external modifications of the ambient.

Experience proves that in reality things do happen in this way. In fact, we are able in the animal kingdom to prove the existence of special organs, some of them destined to the perception of the successive states of the ambient and of the individual, the others to the active realisation of the latter to the former. The different modifications provoked in the receptive system by the variations of the ambient, determine in their turn the intervention of the active system which realises the internal variations. This is the principle of the nervous and muscular systems, the latter being only put into play by the former; natural history shows us the progressive specialisation of these nervous and muscular elements. At first non-differentiated in appearance, the animal cell presents in more complicated animals a sensitive pole and an active pole, the one nervous, the other muscular. The myo-epithelial or neuro-muscular cells offer us a classical example in the hydra.

The examination of the development of the nervous system and of the muscular system in the vertebrata shows us their growing specialisation. The nervous cells are associated in systems more or less dependent the one upon the other; the muscular cells are accumulated into masses. This is the application of that law of the division of labour, the constant operation of which we observe in all the phenomena of life. The nervous cells are grouped together in a heap, in a nucleus, and send their prolongations to the periphery or to the organs. These prolongations are of two kinds: some transmit impressions towards the cell (dendrites prolongations), others transmit excitations proceeding from the cell (cylindraxes prolongations).[39] The centres themselves are hierarchised, so to speak, and are divided into two wide categories: the first destined to the functions of organic life, circulation, secretions, digestion, etc.; the second to those of the life of relation. These two categories include the sensitive cells and the motor cells; the one transmits to the other the stimulus born of excitations provoked by the internal or external centres.

In superior animals, at any rate in man, we observe that the activity of certain nervous centres is accompanied by a particular phenomenon, which is designated under the name of personal consciousness. It is the notion we have that the phenomenon is perceived by us, that the movement executed is executed by us.

Personal consciousness does not accompany all perceived phenomena, nor all executed movements. Certain given conditions of diverse orders appear necessary, for the consciousness to become aware of these phenomena. This conscious consciousness is translated by the connection of the impression or of the movement with a personality.

This personality looks to us as though it were continuous. It is around it that our past impressions are grouped in the form of souvenirs. It is that which continues the ‘self.’

The consciousness I have just described is what I call the personal consciousness. The notion of personality which characterises it is not invariable, and is not necessary.

It is not invariable, because the study of morbid psychology reveals to us that different personalities can succeed one another in the same individual, or even appear to be concomitant. This is notably the case with secondary personalities in hysteria or in epilepsy.

It is not necessary, for diverse phenomena can be perceived and stored up in the memory without the personal consciousness being conscious thereof; in the same way, movements adapted to a certain purpose may be executed without the personal consciousness being warned thereof: such are notably the reflex and complicated movements, which custom has rendered automatic.

The result of these facts is that the personal consciousness is manifested as a limitation of the general consciousness, of what I will simply call the consciousness. The study of the alterations of memory notably—diverse amnesiæ, hypermnesiæ, paramnesiæ—shows us that those souvenirs of which the general and impersonal consciousness has the free disposition are incomparably more numerous than those at the disposal of the personal consciousness. This is incontestable as far as memory is concerned; is it so with intelligence? It is hard to say; there are, however, numerous examples of problems solved and of work accomplished without the knowledge of the personal consciousness.

Anatomy and physiology inform us, that personal consciousness is manifested in phenomena, which appear to have their seat in certain regions on the surface of the cerebral hemispheres. The cortical region seems to be appropriated, at least in part, by psychological phenomena, of which personality is the centre, active memory, attention, judgment, abstraction, will. It is for this reason that this region is called ‘the superior centres.’ Underneath this region the cerebral sub-cortical ganglions, the bulbous and medullary nuclei, the sympathetic ganglions, and the plexus constitute the inferior centres which preside over certain functions foreign to the personal consciousness.

However, it must not be thought that the activity of the cortical centres is always perceived by the personal consciousness. That of the motor centres, for example, may exist unknown to the personal consciousness. I have already given the indication of certain complicated movements which can be voluntary and personally conscious in the beginning, and become, in the end, unconscious and yet voluntary; e.g. the playing of a musical instrument. Likewise, certain involuntary movements can sometimes be perceived by the personal consciousness; e.g. the rapid movement we make in chasing away a fly which is worrying us. If the centre motors of the arm which drives away the fly be sub-cortical or medullary, it is none the less true that the movements executed, even when they appear to be pure reflex movements, can sometimes be perceived.

Movements executed without the participation of the personal consciousness and will are called automatic. This expression signifies for me, that the voluntary activity of the personality remains foreign to the movement executed.

Therefore, in the motor sphere, that is to say in movements, we may have different relations between the movement executed and the personal consciousness. We have, first of all, conscious and voluntary movements; then involuntary or impulsive movements, perceived or unperceived by the personal consciousness.

These diverse movements are normal: that is to say, they are executed according to the recognised rules of muscular activity; they do not go beyond the peripheral limit of the body; the nervous influx is diffused along the nerves in the ordinary manner.

If the nervous influx, or more correctly speaking, the mode of energy which constitutes it, goes beyond the material limits of the body, we have phenomena designated by de Rochas under the name of extériorisation de la motricité. These are again automatic phenomena for me, since the personal consciousness and the will do not participate in them. But they present a feature which distinguishes them from normal automatisms: they are exosomatic, if I may use that expression, while the others are endosomatic. These two expressions signify for me, the one exosomatic, that the movements are produced beyond the limits of the body; the other endosomatic, that they are produced within the limits of the body, that is to say by muscular activity acting physiologically. The first, which are apparently contrary to the ordinary data of experience, are paranormal phenomena, that is to say, outside the usual rule; the second, on the contrary, are normal. Parakinesis is a paranormal movement with contact; telekinesis is a paranormal movement without contact.

Sensibility presents the same categories of facts. Properly speaking there is no veritable automatism in phenomena of sensitivity; but we can nevertheless distinguish therein, first, normal sensitive phenomena—that is to say, phenomena produced under physiological conditions, more or less well-known, but frequent, such as hallucinations, hypermnesiæ; and second, paranormal phenomena, that is to say, phenomena which imply the existence of modes of perception to which the normal personality is foreign—clairvoyance, clairaudience, tele-æsthesia, telepathy (Myers, Gurney, Podmore), exteriorisation of motor power (de Rochas).

I have already indicated that these perceptions appear to depend upon the impersonal consciousness, and that the impressions thus perceived are transmitted to the personal consciousness in a given form analogous to that of dream perceptions—that is to say, in a dramatic form, with a concrete and symbolical setting. The impersonal consciousness seems, therefore, to be affected in a vague, general manner: the perceptions only assume an appearance of precision in those strata of the consciousness, where the notion of personality is determined. Hence the following conclusions, which I only give as probabilities: (1) that the notion of personality is susceptible of diverse degrees; (2) that the impressions perceived by the general consciousness are agreeable or disagreeable—that is to say, only impart to the personal consciousness a very vague message, moral comfort or indefinable discomfort; that, in rarer cases, the transmitted message is more precise, and takes the form of a detailed hallucination; (3) that, if telepathy exists, the general consciousness is capable of being affected by channels other than those of the ordinary senses, which have only a value in ratio to the personal consciousness of which they are, perhaps, the condition.

This last consideration brings us back to the definition which I gave a little while ago of consciousness, which is, for me, the common property of all living matter: its sensuality is limited and specified by the senses, is limited and specified by the personality and the will.

I beg the reader to excuse me for having entered into these explanations. I wished, as I said before, to state as clearly as possible the meanings I attach to the terms I use; I have still another task to accomplish somewhat similar to the last: which is to classify medianic phenomena before studying their relations with fraud. In the first place I divide them into two wide categories, each capable of penetrating into the other, for, with the exception of luminosities, physical phenomena are rarely devoid of all meaning, and intellectual phenomena have always some fact of a physical nature as substratum. Therefore, these two categories are two different aspects of the same phenomena rather than two distinct categories.

If we consider the purely physical side, we have the following approximate series:—

PHYSICAL PHENOMENA

Sonorous.—Raps; diverse noises.

Motor.—Normal; paranormal; parakinesis; telekinesis.

Luminous.—Amorphous; definite forms; psychic (?) photography.

If we consider the form of communications, in appearance intelligent, by adhering to the mode of expression of the intellectual sense of the phenomena, we have the following classification:—

INTELLECTUAL PHENOMENA: ENDOSOMATIC AUTOMATISM

Muscular.—Typtology; grammatology; automatic script; automatic speaking.

Sensorial.—Visual, auditory, tactile, gustatory, olfactory phenomena.

Vaso-Motor.—Secretory phenomena; vascular phenomena; perspirations, etc.

EXOSOMATIC AUTOMATISM

(Exteriorisations): Motor.—Telekinesis; psychography (direct writing); psychophony (direct voice).

——— Sensitive-Sensorial.—Telepathy; telæsthesia.

——— Plastic.—Materialisations; apports, etc.

On the other hand, if we examine fraud in a general manner, we will notice the following correspondences: the words conscious and unconscious are taken in the sense of the personal consciousness:—

Motricity:normal.1.Conscious and voluntary movements.Conscious voluntary fraud. Simulation; responsibility.
————2.Conscious but involuntary movements.Conscious impulsive fraud. Simulation; irresponsibility.
————3.Unconscious and involuntary movements.Impulsive and unconscious fraud; irresponsibility.
——paranormal.4.Exteriorisation of motricity and plasticity; telekinesis; materialisations.No fraud.
Sensibility:normal.5.Voluntary falsehood.Voluntary and conscious fraud. Simulation; responsibility.
Sensibility:normal.6.Illusions; hallucinations; hypermnesiæ; paramnesiæ.No fraud; no real phenomenon.
——paranormal.7.Exteriorisation of the sensibility; clairaudience; telepathy; clairvoyance.No fraud; real phenomena.

As for true exosomatic automatism, there can be no question of fraud as far as it is concerned. This classification, which I only give as an experiment, appears to me more complete than that of Ochorowicz’s (Annales de Sciences Psychiques, vi. 97). The latter distinguishes—

(a)Conscious fraud.
(b)Unconscious fraud:
in the waking state}Medianity of an inferior order.
in the trance state
(c)Partial, automatic fraud}Medianity of a superior order.
(d)The pure phenomenon

If we compare Ochorowicz’s table with mine we will notice that his conscious fraud corresponds to Nos. 1 and 5 of my classification.

His unconscious fraud to No. 3.

I divide his partial, automatic fraud into the classes 2, 3, and 6.

The pure phenomenon into the classes 4 and 7.

His superior medianity includes all exosomatic automatisms (Nos. 4 and 7); his inferior medianity, the classes 3 and 6.

These general indications given, it is easy to see that I divide fraud into three categories, which are, moreover, susceptible of co-existing and of forming mixed types: this is the ordinary case. We have, first of all, the guilty, voluntary and conscious fraud; then the impulsive, but conscious, frequent fraud; then the unconscious and involuntary fraud, veritable normal automatism: the author cannot be held responsible for this last order of fraud, which is, moreover, very frequent with many excellent mediums.

If we study the psychological mechanism of fraud, we will find variable and diverse causes.

1. CONSCIOUS AND VOLUNTARY FRAUD

The most usual cause is self-interest. This is the case with charlatans, who speculate upon the credulity of the public. We must not think this is the only motive; each impostor obeys motives which are peculiar to himself. The medical student, who gave me such curious examples of fraud, was not actuated by motives of self-interest. I think it was simply for the pleasure of cheating, of taking me in, for I had often spoken to him about my suspicions. He often cheated simply as a prank; this is what happened in a seance given by a spiritistic group to convince some new converts, when my student, it appears, gave them manifestations somewhat out of the common!

However, conscious and voluntary fraud raise no real psychological problem.

2. CONSCIOUS AND INVOLUNTARY OR MIXED FRAUD

On the contrary, the problem originates in this order of fraud. It often happens in circles, though composed of honourable persons, that some of the sitters, who would be incapable of voluntarily committing a fraud, do not dare to accuse themselves of an involuntary movement made by them, and of which they are conscious. This can only be applied to fairly rapid movements, such as those which imitate raps or parakinetic movements. In serious seances, the sitters should give themselves the habit of openly acknowledging every involuntary movement; it will be noticed that certain persons are very prone to these movements. They often end by being ashamed of accusing themselves so often, and thus fraud from timidity: I have met with this, especially among women. It is one of the reasons which make me condemn all experiments for the production of movements with contact.

Timidity is the usual cause of this kind of fraud: the psychological problem raised is simple.

3. UNCONSCIOUS AND INVOLUNTARY FRAUD

Here the problem becomes complicated. I will not distinguish, as Ochorowicz does, fraud committed in the waking state from fraud committed in the trance or second state. The psychological mechanism is the same in both cases, and appears to me to depend upon self-suggestion, or what has been called monoïdeism, that is to say, the mind is invaded by one idea, which ends by stifling all others, and by realising itself: it is, in reality, a phenomenon analogous to that determined by suggestion.

It is in unconscious or involuntary frauds, that the psychological disaggregation of the medium which Janet has studied, is best observed. These frauds present phenomena which are without interest from a medianic point of view.

What is the mechanism of unconscious and involuntary frauds? It appears to me to be the following: the subjects—they may have been good mediums in their day—who commit this kind of fraud sit down to the table, or give a seance in view of obtaining supernormal phenomena. But the production of these phenomena is often difficult, sometimes impossible. Immobility, expectation, and obscurity act powerfully upon the nervous system of these mediums, and particularly so when they are hysterical. They determine the trance; the desire for the phenomenon becomes a fixed idea, and then a self-suggestion. If the supernormal phenomenon delays, the inferior strata of the consciousness—whose morality often differs greatly from that of the active personal consciousness—realises it normally.

In the same way, even if the sensitive does not fall into the trance state, there is, nevertheless, a particular state manifested which is not sleep, neither is it the full, genuine waking-state. The active and voluntary personal element of the consciousness, as well as the judgment, becomes weakened. The sphere of the personality is reduced, and personal activity gives place to automatism. Every degree between conscious and involuntary fraud and pure automatism is to be met with.

Therefore, it is prudent to take measures to guard against fraud with all subjects who become entranced, or with those who become somnolent in obscurity, silence, immobility, and expectation; but we should be frank with our sensitives: let us not offer, in ourselves, an example of dissimulation to the medium; neither must we let him have the impression of not being controlled: this would be to expose him to a temptation, all the greater in that his personal power of volition is weakened.

Add to this, that we do not in the least know what influence the mental state of the experimenters has upon the medium, although some kind of influence appears to me to exist. We do not know to what extent an ill-founded certitude of fraud can be responsible for its birth. Ochorowicz says on this subject:—

‘After having recognised that the medium is only a mirror, who reflects and directs the ideas and nervous forces of the assistants towards an ideoplastic end, we will not be surprised to see that suggestion plays an important rôle therein. There is no doubt but that the assistants can suggest the desired act to the medium; neither is it doubtful that the manifestations bear the stamp of surrounding beliefs. In a society of materialists I have seen “John” (with Eusapia Paladino) become dissolved into an impersonal force, which the medium simply called “questa forza,” while in intimate spiritistic circles it took the form of deceased persons, more or less clumsily. In the same way, with controllers imbued with the idea of fraud as Messrs. Hodgson and Maskelyne were, the medium will remain under the empire of a suggestion of fraud.’

Without completely sharing Ochorowicz’s conviction, I have reasons for thinking that his theory comes very close to the truth. I have myself indicated how suggestible the personification is.

There is something else. In cases where force is lacking, or is feeble, it is easier for the medium to obtain the phenomenon normally—that is to say, by fraud—rather than by veritable exteriorisation. I have remarked, that often the paranormal movement has to be normally simulated before it is supernormally realised. This is frequently the case with Eusapia. We can conceive how the movement of simulation can end in fraud, when the medium is in a hemisomnambulistic state.

In short, the energy which sets an object in movement appears to me to be of nervous origin, and I believe it to be of the same nature as that which provokes muscular contractions. Therefore, this is what follows: the force only becomes exteriorised if accumulated and wrought up to a sufficient tension. In proportion as its tension increases, so it tends to expend itself in the form of impulsive movements; the medium must resist this tendency to be able to obtain the pure phenomenon. Therefore experimenters ought to keep the medium in this resistance, and not allow him facility for expending the energy which tends to realise itself in muscular movements.

Such are the conclusions to which the observations I have made with several mediums have led me. Unconscious and involuntary fraud is frequent, and in order to avoid it, the conditions likely to favour it should be carefully put aside, especially in the beginning of a series of experiments, and when experimenting with an undeveloped medium. Medianity is powerfully influenced by acquired habits.

There exists, finally, another kind of unconscious and involuntary fraud: that which is due to illusion. It is constantly found in spiritistic seances, where ninety-nine times out of a hundred mediums produce no real phenomena. They are, nevertheless, in earnest, but they do not take into consideration the rôle of memory and imagination. This is particularly the case with intuitive writing mediums and ‘control’ mediums. With this order of phenomenon we rarely obtain verifiable indications; the ‘spirits’ utter plenty of commonplace generalities, but give no precise information.

Fraud is a misnomer in this case: being unconscious and involuntary, it cannot, correctly speaking, be called fraud; therefore it is better to reserve the word ‘illusion’ for it.

I cannot think of analysing the question of fraud in detail. If examined closely it is extremely complicated. But, like Richet, I deem ‘it possible that in states bordering on trance, and in trance itself, the psychology of a medium may be very different from ours.’ I confine myself simply to indicating the result of my reflections, which are the fruit of a long series of observations. Let me renew my oft-repeated recommendation for avoiding fraud: Experiment with light, the greatest possible amount of light, and seek for simple phenomena, difficult, perhaps, to obtain, but easy to observe, such as raps and movements without contact.

II. ERROR

If I insist so much upon the necessity, especially in the beginning, of seeking only for phenomena observation of which is easy, it is because error of observation is facile. We need to be much accustomed to seances to be able to distinguish rapidly between probable phenomena and those which are certainly tricked. It is with this, as with everything else, a question of time and reflection.

One of the causes of error, which it is highly important to avoid, is obscurity. For many simple phenomena darkness is unnecessary; therefore, from the very outset, we should exhort the personification to accept light. I have already frequently said that personifications are very suggestible. I know well it is not always so, and that at times the personification displays much obstinacy. Personifications of this class are especially observed with mediums who have long-acquired habits. It was so with Eusapia, who was only accustomed to giving dark seances. But even when the personification appears to have very decided ideas, it is possible, with a little ingenuity, to induce him to change. It is with them as with secondary personalities, or subjects to whom we have given a suggestion. We must enter right into the circle of suggested ideas in order to break it; it is a question of tact only.

With Eusapia we succeeded in operating in a good light by appealing to ‘John’s’ vanity. We explained to him that obscurity stood in the way of the observation of the phenomena, that he was just as capable of working in the light as the ‘guides’ of other mediums were. In this way, we lead him to change his habits with us; the meno luce to which those who have experimented with this medium are accustomed, was still demanded, but only when the seance was well advanced. At Bordeaux, where there was a large bay-window in the seance-room, the reflection thereon from the lights burning in the kitchen and winter-garden enabled us to see a little. In that case, Eusapia or John did not desire total obscurity, and we always had this feeble light, allowing a visual control which was sometimes satisfactory.

When we are lucky enough to meet with an undeveloped medium, it is easy to give him the habit of operating in full light. This has occasionally happened to me.

I need not enlarge upon the influence of obscurity upon error. With some very rare exceptions we can never be certain of the authenticity of a phenomenon obtained in a dark seance.

Obscurity is, however, necessary for luminous phenomena. When once we have observed decided luminous forms, or really characteristic lights, it is easy to distinguish between them and illusion. A cool, calm observer does not make a mistake; it is not quite the same with excited experimenters. These latter give veritable suggestions to one another, and they end by having curious collective hallucinations. This is one of the most interesting facts of observation in spiritistic seances, so rich in purely psychological curiosities. I have frequently heard a sitter say that he saw a light in a given direction; the others looked in their turn and also saw it. Then one declared he perceived a form; soon others also saw a form. And from exclamation to exclamation the description of the form is completed. This is the genesis of a collective hallucination.

I need hardly say, that experimenters who are so suggestible are not good elements: in purely scientific researches they should be reduced to a minimum.

Personal experience has shown me, that of all the senses, that of sight is the most liable to imaginary impressions; after sight, the sense of touch is the most prompt to receive illusion. There are constant examples of this in spiritistic seances; the cool breeze, which is often really felt, is more often only imaginary. One person says he feels it; others at once imagine they feel it also. Sometimes it is not an error of imagination, but an error of attribution, the sensation of a cool breeze being caused by the breath.

The sense of hearing has seemed to me to be refractory to suggestion in seances, though it does not altogether escape. I know of very few examples of imagined raps or noises.

On the contrary, the muscular sense is one of the most unfaithful. Unless one has experimented oneself, it is impossible to imagine how frequent unconscious and involuntary movements are. These movements are of very feeble amplitude; they are slight, but they end by acquiring a certain amount of force. It will then be noticed that the assistants accuse each other reciprocally of pushing the table, and it is not rare to see angry discussions arise on these occasions. This is a frequent fact of observation. I have also very frequently noticed tactile hallucinations with impressionable experimenters, who easily imagine diverse contacts.

The sense of smell sometimes perceives imaginary odours, but it is somewhat rare. I have not observed any hallucinations of taste.

Another cause of error which requires pointing out is fatigue on the part of the experimenters. Every phenomenon which is produced after a long period of waiting stands many chances of being badly observed. The attention kept for a long time on the qui vive becomes weary, gives place to abstraction, and often the phenomena takes the experimenters by surprise; hence they are unable to examine the conditions with certitude. It is also bad to hold very long seances, fatigue quickly setting in.

Such are the principal causes of positive errors; that is to say, of errors tending to persuade one of the existence of an imaginary fact; negative errors, that is to say, those which tend to make one look upon a real fact as an imaginary one, are not less dangerous than positive errors.

In the first place, parti pris is to be pointed out. If we wish to experiment with success, we must experiment without credulity, without faith, even without confidence; but we must not be determined only to meet with fraud.

We must not experiment naïvely. If, at the beginning of a seance, it be useful to allow freedom in order to put the force en train, as Ochorowicz wisely recommends, once the phenomena are established, we must control them with the greatest care. But we should make our intentions known to the medium and to the personification. This, I think, is an indispensable precaution. The personification will always consent to it; but this does not mean we will always obtain the wished-for result. We must not allow the medium or the personification to think we are their dupes if they fraud; we must tell them, gently but clearly, that they are not giving anything good. Equivocation is to be carefully avoided, all misunderstanding is to be shunned.

We must not, however, place the medium under such conditions that the experiment cannot be realised. We do not understand these conditions, and, perhaps, apparently simple phenomena may not be realisable. I remember that at Choisy in 1896, a lady, a member of my family—she has an insurmountable bias against psychical experiments, which she declares a priori are fraudulent—declared to Eusapia that she would believe in her phenomena, if she could make a doll’s table move before her eyes. Eusapia placed this small table on top of the seance-table, but did not succeed in making it move. Why could not such an apparently simple phenomenon be obtained?

We must, therefore, observe, but we must not wish to impose beforehand the conditions which the phenomenon should fulfil in order to be accepted.

Many experimenters tie up the medium, put him into a sack, and seal him therein. If he consents to this, well and good; if he refuses, other means of control must be found. We must not indeed suppose that the medium’s refusal is always due to a desire to fraud. The slightest fetters may sometimes be very painful, especially when there be cutaneous hyperæsthesia.

Before bringing a negative judgment to bear upon the phenomena, the experimenters should always hold a certain number of seances, and should not found their judgment upon one bad seance alone; by so doing they would expose themselves to a wrong course of action.

It is especially in psychical experimentation that inexhaustible patience is necessary.

[37] See Appendix [B].

[38] The French have but one word to express what is meant in English by the word Conscience (i.e. the principle which decides on the lawfulness or unlawfulness of our actions or desires), and the word Consciousness (i.e. the being aware, the knowing of one’s own thoughts). Nevertheless we consider this chapter could ill spare this masterly synthesis.—Note of Translator.

[39] Dendrites, nerves conducting the influx towards the centre of the cell.

Cylindraxes, nerves conducting from the cell towards the periphery or towards another cell.

CONCLUSION

And now my task is accomplished. I perceive that in the latter part of my work, I have broached complex and difficult problems, and have allowed myself to be drawn into—not theorising—but combating certain theories which appear to me to be incorrect or insufficient; for which I beg my reader’s pardon. In conclusion, I wish to repeat that I am convinced of having, in a sure, positive manner, observed raps and movements without contact. I have seen many other phenomena; but I will not venture to be so affirmative concerning them, at present.

I make no pretension of demonstrating the reality of the facts I have observed. In publishing my conclusions, I have had but one object in view, that of bringing my testimony to those, who, long before me, attested to the facts which I in my turn affirm. Does that mean that I have not been mistaken? most assuredly, no! And it is very possible that my observations may have been imperfect. I am, nevertheless, so convinced of their exactness, that I can only advise those who may impugn the accuracy of my statements, to experiment as I have done, with the same method, and the same patience. I have had many occasions to pronounce these words in the course of my work, and now in terminating it, I pronounce them once again with stronger emphasis than ever.

I doubt, though, whether my voice will be heeded, where others, more influential than mine, have remained unheard. However, I do not regret having expressed my opinion about these facts. I am persuaded, that some day, perhaps very soon, they will come under scientific discipline, and this, in spite of all the obstacles which obstinacy and fear of ridicule accumulate in the way.

One of these obstacles, and it is not the least, is due to the fashion in which many savants estimate mediums. Their judgment is summed up in such expressions as hysteric, cheat, physically or morally tainted, degenerates. Such a judgment is iniquitous, absurd and false in its generality, and baneful in its consequences. It is founded upon a deplorable error, for I know mediums who possess faculties superior to the average, and who present absolutely no stigma of degeneracy. I have said, and I cannot repeat it too often, my finest phenomena were obtained with subjects who were sound and healthy in mind and body. It is with hysterical subjects that we observe fraud, side by side with gleams of true phenomena; but with a medium who has no nervous taint, whose well-balanced intelligence knows how to offer resistance to self-suggestion, and l’idée fixe, we have real phenomena or none at all.

The opinion of savants, who, ill acquainted with the facts, inform us that mediums are hysterics and victims of nervous disorders, is therefore erroneous; unfortunately the consequences of such an opinion are lamentable. I know many remarkable subjects who absolutely refuse to experiment outside a tested and restricted group, because they fear to be regarded as neurotics; they are afraid of being stigmatised as insane, they are afraid of compromising their commercial position or their professional interests. I will never succeed in convincing them that they are above the average; doubtless I will succeed still less in inducing others to believe it: though in many respects it be true. If the relative perfection of their nervous system renders these persons more sensitive than the average, it would be wrong to conclude thereupon, that they were degenerate specimens of humanity. This argument is lacking in common-sense; we might just as reasonably insist that Europeans are in degeneration, because they are more emotional and more sensitive to pain than certain savage tribes. How ignorant, tactless, and incautious we are! The attitude of certain learned centres—it is with intention that I do not say the most cultured—is, to me, similar to that of ecclesiastical authorities in the middle ages. The novelty of a thing frightens them. They treat independent scientific thought as the inquisitors treated free thought in days gone by. Like their prototypes of other times, they have the same intolerance, the same hate for schism and heresy. Their accumulated errors ought to make them cautious: but, no! If they no longer make a pariah of the arch-heretic or schismatic, if they no longer deliver him up to the executioner, they treat him with the same relative vigour. They excommunicate him, in their fashion, and cast him out of sane healthy humanity as a degenerate, a mystic, an exalté. The future will have the same opinion of them as we have, to-day, of their predecessors. Their attitude prevents the most cultured, the most capable mediums from allowing their psychic faculties to become known. If these mediums spoke of visions, a douche would be recommended! If they caused a table to move without contact, the words hysteria and fraud would be heard. Is it surprising they should hide their gifts?

We ought to consider mediums as precious beings, as forerunners of the future type of our race. Why should we only see degeneracy around us? Why should we not see superior beings ahead of us, beacons, as it were, on the route we have to follow? Does not simple common-sense suggest that humanity has not yet arrived at perfection—that it is evolving to-day just as it has always been doing? All men have not attained the same degree of evolution. As there are types representing the average state of former days, so there are advanced types representing to-day the average state of the future. The progress of the race seems to make for perfection along the lines of the nervous system, in the acquisition of more delicate senses, of greater nervous sensibility, and of vaster means of information. If the discovery of implements, new instruments of investigation, such as the telescope and microscope, for example, aid in the progress of the race, they are of no use for the evolution of the individual himself. Now, veritable progress is individual; it is the improvement of the individual which assures the evolution of the race, and this progress should be determined by heredity. Do what we will, we shall never be born with a microscope at the eyes, and a telephone at the ears. Progress of this kind is not transmissible; only physiological acquisitions are transmissible. The sensibility of the nervous system of mediums is a progress on our relative obtuseness; it is not the same thing with the bad sight of him who makes an improper use of the microscope. If Virchow were still alive, there would be many disagreeable things to be said to him, concerning the inaptitude of the ordinary type of savant to personify the desirable progress of the race towards health, force, sensibility, and the perfect form.

The intolerance of certain savants is equalled by that of certain dogmas. To take an example, Catholicism considers psychical phenomena as the work of the devil! Is it worth while at this hour to discuss so obsolete a theory? I think not. However, superior ecclesiastical authorities, with the tact and sentiment of opportunism which they often show, permit many Catholics to undertake the experimental study of psychical facts. I cannot blame them for recommending prudent abstention to the mass of the faithful; spiritism appears to me to be an adversary with which they will have to reckon very seriously some day. The simplicity of its doctrines ensures it the clientèle of simple souls enamoured of justice, that is to say, of the immense majority of mankind.

But this question is foreign to psychical facts themselves. As far as my experience permits me to judge of them, these phenomena contain nothing but what is natural. The devil does not show his hoof here, timorous souls may feel reassured; if the tables claim to be Satan himself, they need not be believed; summoned to prove his power, this grandiloquent Satan will be a sorry thaumaturgist. Religious prejudice, which proscribes these experiments as being supernatural, is just as little justified as scientific prejudice, which sees therein nothing but fraud and imposture. Here, again, the old adage of Aristotle finds its application: Justice lies midway.

May my book determine a few experimenters of goodwill to try to observe in their turn. May it help to dispel from the mind of gifted mediums their fears of being ranked with insane and disordered intelligences, or looked upon as being in partnership with the devil. May it especially contribute to make metapsychic phenomena come to be considered as natural facts, worthy of being usefully observed, and capable of enabling us to penetrate more deeply than any other phenomena into a real knowledge of the laws which govern Nature.

APPENDIX A
An Appreciation on Certain Documents published on the subject of Fraud.

The question of fraud is so important that I feel I should not only give the results of my own observations, but also my appreciation of some of the principal documents published on the subject.

With the exception of Richet and a few others, representatives of science in France are very ill informed on this question, as I have endeavoured to show. They overlook the immense work which has been done in the United States and in England; consequently it is very difficult to discuss the question with these savants, they are either ignorant or feign to be ignorant of what others have done. I have shown that their experiments are defective and their methods open to criticism.

If all serious discussion be impossible with certain savants, it is not so with those who have taken the trouble to verify psychic phenomena for themselves. This is the case with the principal members of the Society for Psychical Research, Crookes, Lodge, Barrett, Myers, Sidgwick, Gurney, Podmore, Hodgson, Hyslop, and others. The first three are persuaded of the reality of the facts observed by them. The others have a tendency to attribute to fraud all physical phenomena; they admit, on the other hand, intellectual phenomena, and explain them either by telepathy as Mr. Podmore does, or by the intervention of spirits as spiritists themselves do, though they were at one time the latter’s adversaries; this is notably the case with Myers, Hodgson, and Hyslop. The great respect I have for the remarkable men who direct the Society for Psychical Research, obliges me to examine their experiments very carefully, for their judgment has a great value in my eyes; at the same time, I have too much regard for the research of truth to conceal from them the errors of experimentation, which they appear to me to have committed.

In the fourth volume of the Proceedings will be found a series of papers by Mrs. Sidgwick, Messrs. Lewis, Hodgson, and Davey upon fraud. The last-named deal particularly with the production of direct slate-writing. This phenomenon is very easy to simulate; it suffices to read the papers mentioned, especially Davey’s document, to understand under what suspicious conditions the phenomenon was produced.

A long time ago I myself artificially produced this kind of manifestation by fixing a pencil into a hole in the table, and thereupon moving the slate about. With practice a certain amount of facility can be acquired; you can write fairly well and give regularity to apparently spasmodic and involuntary movements; but only inexperienced or credulous people are taken in by this trick; and though they may be more complicated, Mr. Davey’s methods are not by any means more difficult to expose.

I wonder how a man of Dr. Hodgson’s intelligence could have based his judgment upon such superficial observations as those of the experimenters he cites. Here are men, without doubt honourable and well educated, who hold seances with the object of obtaining direct slate-writing through Mr. Davey. Instead of taking the elementary precaution of never abandoning their slates, they allow the medium to manipulate them, permit him to leave the seance-room for a moment, consent to allow other slates than their own to remain on the table at the same time as those which are used for the experiment, and lastly when they examine, only examine it on one side. This is not mal-observation, it is absence of observation. (See R. Hodgson, ‘Mr. Davey’s Imitations by Conjuring of Phenomena sometimes attributed to Spirit Agency,’ Proceedings, vi. 253.)

Mr. Davey has also produced raps and materialisations fraudulently. It is necessary to read, in Dr. Hodgson’s paper, the conditions under which he operated to see what ill-placed confidence his co-experimenters had in him (Davey). They do not verify, although they are invited to do so, the contents of a trunk precisely where the material essential to fraud was concealed; they allow Mr. Davey to close the door of the room: he gives two turns of the key, the one locking, the other unlocking the door, which is carelessly sealed with gummed paper; no one thinks of verifying if the door is well closed. The most elementary precautions are neglected by the assistants who, one would really think, had been chosen by Mr. Davey for their very credulity. Frauds as easy to prevent as those from which Dr. Hodgson draws his argument, cannot be considered as being able to take in a prudent, shrewd observer, accustomed to experimentation, and knowing how to preserve a little sang-froid. Was it not enough that the medium should have asked one of the observers: ‘What do you want the spirit to write on the slate? In what colour do you want the writing to appear?’ for these very questions alone to suggest imposture? Dr. Hodgson’s argumentation is inoperative, and the faults, accumulated by the deceived observers whose impressions he cites, are excessive. One would think he had had to do with very convinced spiritists, inclined to admit a priori the reality of the forthcoming phenomena without troubling themselves about the precise conditions of their observations; this is what the perusal of the reports of these seances makes one think, for I read textually (p. 296): ‘It may be interesting to compare the reports given by spiritualists of a sitting with Mr. Davey with his account of what really occurred.’ Can one draw an argument from these accounts of spiritists? Some spiritists, convinced of the reality of the facts, appear to care very little indeed about any sort of control. To reason from their methods of observation, to generalise this reasoning and to extend it to all observers, is rather too easy a form of discussion.

There are certain phenomena which lend themselves badly to observation: this is particularly the case with those which require obscurity and arrangements of a nature likely to hinder or interfere with the best control which can be exercised, that of the eyesight. In my opinion the phenomenon has no demonstrative value whenever it occurs out of sight, as is the case with slate-writing, when the slate is held under the table. Neither has it any great signification when it requires sustained observation in order to control it. Errors are easy, for abstraction almost inevitably follows, if it does not accompany, sustained attention. Hodgson, in ‘The Possibilities of Mal-Observation and Lapse of Memory from a Practical Point of View’ (Proceedings, iv. 381) gives examples of this, but his paper only points out facts well known to those who are familiar with human testimony. In order to observe with a minimum chance of error, the phenomenon we intend to study should be simple, and repeated often enough to prevent the attention from becoming weary from waiting. From this point of view, the production of raps and telekinetic movements with the aid of the experimental manœuvres I have described, permit, by specifying the moment when the phenomenon is going to occur, of bringing the whole attention to bear upon the examination of the conditions under which the phenomenon is obtained. Raps and movements without contact appear to me to lend themselves admirably to observation; with these phenomena, by operating as I have indicated, experimentation is almost possible; but a veritable medium must be sought for in the first instance.

Now this is what my colleagues of the Society for Psychical Research did, but they did so under conditions which were far from satisfactory. Mrs. Sidgwick, a woman of brilliant intellect, has given an account of the attempts made by herself, her husband, and friends to obtain psychical phenomena. They went to Eglinton and Slade for slate-writing, to the Misses Wood and Fairlamb and a Mr. Haxby for materialisations. The first two gave phenomena which were suspicious, not to say worse; as for Haxby, he frauded shamefacedly. Mrs. Sidgwick’s account is demonstrative on this point, and it is enough to read it to be convinced that no shrewd observer could be taken in.

The first mistake, committed by the distinguished members of the Sidgwick group, was to suppose that psychical phenomena can be obtained at will. Whenever a paid medium gives regular seances, there are a hundred chances to one of downright fraud. If there be a positive feature in these supernormal facts, that feature in my opinion is their apparent irregularity. I have been able to experiment with intelligent, well-educated mediums anxious for a thorough investigation of their powers: I have made very many experiments with them, and I have observed that often whole weeks passed away without a good seance; at other times, the force was so abundant that phenomena were forthcoming without seance. I have related some curious facts in this respect, e.g. the table moving spontaneously in the course of a conversation bearing upon psychical phenomena (p. 106).

What are the conditions which impede or favour the production of this unknown mode of energy? I cannot specify them; but I think I have noticed concordances, which confirm in a measure the conclusions of Ochorowicz (Annales des Sciences Psychiques, vi. 115):—

1. Action of temperature. Dry cold weather is the most favourable. Damp or close weather is most unfavourable.

2. Health of the medium and sitters. If the medium does not feel well, things happen as though he exteriorised no force whatever. It is the same thing with the sitters, but in a lesser degree; in the latter case it suffices to eliminate the experimenter who feels ill.

3. Mental condition of the medium and sitters.[40] Ill-humour, anxiety, sadness—especially a sadness without any specific cause, a kind of mental discomfort—are prejudicial. Joy, gaiety are often favourable.

4. Nervous exhaustion. This condition is too often overlooked. I have not unfrequently had occasion to conduct several series of experiments at one and the same time. I generally noticed that the results were not good. I have not been able to understand the cause of this want of success; it is probably other than that of simple nervous exhaustion, although this may have an action in prolonged series of seances.

Neither do seances held too frequently with the same medium give good results; in this case, nervous exhaustion is certainly in play.

The English experimenters do not appear to have taken these diverse elements into consideration; I am persuaded the results of their investigations would have been different had they shunned ‘paid mediums,’ and sought for fresh or undeveloped mediums, persons uninfluenced by private considerations, intelligent and capable of bringing a correct analysis of their subjective impressions into the research. These mediums are rare, but they are to be found.

None of these conditions were fulfilled by the Sidgwick group. These experimenters, acting with the best of intentions, took a wrong course. Eglinton, Slade, Haxby, have perhaps been genuine mediums in their time, but as soon as they made it a business to give regular seances, they were at once prepared to give fraudulent phenomena with regularity. At Newcastle, the group operated at one and the same time with Miss Fairlamb and with Miss Wood. These two parallel series of experiments could not help being prejudicial one to the other, even if these two mediums had been honest, which does not appear to have been the case, judging from Mrs. Sidgwick’s account.

I cannot think of discussing in detail all the experiments of the Sidgwick group; but I will study their experiments with Eusapia Paladino at Cambridge more carefully, for their judgment on this medium appears to me unjustified. Every one knows under what conditions Messrs. Myers, Hodgson, Sidgwick, etc., invited Eusapia to England, in order to resume experiments previously made with her at Ribaud. These experiments had obtained a favourable report from Dr. Lodge; Mr. Myers and Mr. Sidgwick associated themselves with Dr. Lodge’s conclusions. Dr. Hodgson—who is a doctor of law and not a doctor of medicine, as some people suppose—criticised the experiments summarised by Dr. Lodge. He was met with the reply that his criticisms contained nothing new; that what he said had been already pointed out by Richet and others, and that the experimenters were acquainted with every possible system of fraud; that the substitution of one hand for another, the substitution of an artificial foot for the medium’s foot, were well-known systems of imposture, against which every precaution had been taken. Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the fact that the report had been drawn up by such competent men as Richet, Ochorowicz, Lodge, and Myers, it was criticised with an undeniable appearance of logic and justice by Hodgson: the latter reproached them for insufficiently describing the manner in which the diverse controls were ensured, for omitting to dwell upon the precautions which were taken, and for the lack of a minute description of all the movements of the medium. In his article (Journal, vii. 49) he expressly says:—

‘Professor Lodge makes the following declaration concerning the raising of the table:—

‘“It appears to me impossible for any person to lift a table of this size and weight while standing up to it, with hands only on top, without plenty of leg action, and considerable strength and pressure of hands. It was quite beyond the possibility of Eusapia.”

‘Now let us suppose,’ continues Hodgson, ‘that Eusapia used a form of support which, with some variation or other, I fancy is not altogether unknown in the Italian race. Let us suppose that she had, next to her body, a light strong band round her shoulders and across her chest, with a pendant attached of a black band or cord, with a hook or other catch at the end which could be tucked out of sight in her dress front when not in use. (By the way, in a photograph which I have seen of Eusapia at a sitting, when the table is supposed to be completely off the floor, one of the buttons of the bosom of her dress seems to be unfastened.)

‘She fixed this catch—either stooping or bending her legs slightly outward—to one of the sideboards of the table, or to some point in the neighbourhood of the junctures of, for example, sideboards and top of table. She straightened herself out, stiffened her shoulders and her body back, and pushed forward with her foot against the leg of the table, close to which she was standing. The light touch of one of her hands may have helped to steady the table, the edge of which may also have been in contact with her body. Was this hypothesis or any kindred hypothesis tested by Professor Lodge?’ etc.

This long quotation shows how Hodgson reasons. Conscientious savants omitted to indicate, explicitly, in their report, that every hypothesis of fraud had been studied and put to one side; they omitted to analyse each hypothesis, because their implicit affirmation of the reality of the fact appeared sufficient to them, and a detailed examination of each hypothesis would have given exaggerated dimensions to their report. No matter. Analysts like Dr. Hodgson will not spare them, and will not hesitate to indicate hypotheses, even those the least compatible with the conditions of observation.

However, the Cambridge experiments were decided upon, and although Hodgson had taken a decided stand in the matter, he was invited to assist. These experiments gave bad results, and Sidgwick was able to say, in spite of the contrary observations of other experimenters, who were his colleagues in the Society for Psychical Research (Journal S. P. R., vii. 230): ‘It will be seen that at our last meeting a question was asked with regard to “phenomena” obtained by Eusapia Paladino subsequent to the exposure of her frauds at Cambridge. It may be well that I should briefly state why I do not intend to give any account of these phenomena.

‘It has not been the practice of the Society for Psychical Research to direct attention to the performances of any so-called “medium” who has been proved guilty of systematic fraud. Now, the investigation at Cambridge, of which the results are given in the Journal for November 1895, taken in connection with an article by Professor Richet in the Annales des Sciences Psychiques, for January-February 1893, placed beyond reasonable doubt the facts that the frauds discovered (sic) by Dr. Hodgson at Cambridge, had been systematically practised by Eusapia Paladino for years. In accordance, therefore, with our established custom, I propose to ignore her performances for the future, as I ignore those of other persons engaged in the same mischievous trade.’

Such a judgment made a considerable and lamentable stir: if it were exact, it was just to pronounce it; if it were not thoroughly exact, Sidgwick should have suspended his verdict. This is what Myers advised—this is what Lodge and Richet advised. But the experimenters who followed Hodgson’s impulse did not do this. They made a mistake, and subsequent events have proved they were wrong.

I have said that their judgment was not quite accurate. Professor Sidgwick said, addressing a general meeting of the Society for Psychical Research on the 11th October 1895 (Journal S. P. R., vii. 131):—

‘I consider it to be proved beyond a doubt that the medium used systematic trickery throughout this series of sittings. Her modus operandi I will leave to Dr. Hodgson to describe, who—though only present during a part of the sittings—has had better opportunities for personally observing the actual process of fraud. When this trickery was discovered, the greater part of the phenomena offered as supernormal at these sittings were at once explained; and, this being so, I think it, in the circumstances, unreasonable to attribute—even hypothetically—to supernormal agency the residuum that was not so easily explicable. And considering the great general resemblance between the performances of the medium at these sittings and those I witnessed last year, I am now disposed to think that my earlier experiences are to be similarly explained; I therefore wish to withdraw altogether the limited and guarded support which I gave last year to the supernormal pretensions of Eusapia Paladino.’

So Sidgwick declares that his former experiments were null and void, as everything could be explained by trickery!

Hodgson, at that same general meeting, explained the means used by Eusapia, the surreptitious freeing of foot and hand, and some simple apparatus such as a handkerchief and a small object, such as a coin or a piece of paper, covered with some phosphorescent preparation. Hodgson—and Myers reminded him of this—forgot to say that he had invented nothing, and that these trick devices had been discovered and previously pointed out by others, notably by Richet, who has often experimented with Eusapia Paladino. Sidgwick remarks that a portion of the phenomena are not easily explicable by fraud. It would have been interesting to know which. I suspect that certain levitations were among the number of these phenomena. But the notes published in the Journal S. P. R., vii. 148, only mention attouchements, and it is advisable to limit the discussion to this fact, though it appears to me the least demonstrative.

Let us take the seance of the 1st September. We read p. 153: ‘7.25.—R. H. says, phenomenon preparing. Enormous hand shaking Mrs. M.’s head, hand clearly felt. H. S., hand well held, but not completely. R. H. has hand completely held, gap and then grasp again. Hand holds H. S. well. Right hand, thumb and finger clutch R. H. (On nearly all occasions after the first few hand-touch phenomena, I informed the sitters of a coming phenomenon in some such words as that a phenomenon was preparing, before the phenomenon actually occurred, and usually immediately prior to its occurrence. I made this announcement as a rule when I felt the right hand leaving mine, but sometimes when I felt it preparing to leave. After the phenomenon was over, and the hand returned, I described usually what I felt at the moment of my description, so that E. might not become aware, through some partial appreciation of my English, that I knew that her hand was away from mine during the production of the phenomenon. In some cases, when it was necessary, I added a few words about the state of holding during the phenomenon.)’

I confess that I do not understand. Hodgson has shown himself so severe for others, that he will not be annoyed with me for exacting the same precision from him that he requires of others. Now, in the passage quoted, we read: first, that Mrs. Myers is touched by an enormous hand, a hand which is ‘clearly felt.’ Either it is Eusapia’s hand, released by Hodgson, in which case it ought to be small, for Eusapia’s hand is small, or Mrs. Myers did not ‘clearly feel’ the hand which shook her. If Mrs. Myers has correctly described her impression, then Hodgson makes a mistake in seeming to indicate that it is Eusapia’s hand which touched Mrs. M.; if not, then Mrs. M. has made a mistake. At any rate, there is a contradiction here between the two observers.

Sidgwick acknowledges that Eusapia’s tricks do not explain everything, yet he allows Hodgson to expatiate complacently upon fraudulent attouchements. The learned lawyer even mimicked Eusapia’s tricks for freeing her hands and feet before members of the Society for Psychical Research. But all this was already known by Continental specialists. Hodgson had invented nothing; why did he confine himself to partial criticisms? why did he not discuss each fact, and especially those which appeared inexplicable? He is very severe with Eusapia; why not treat her as he treats Mrs. Piper? He carefully discusses the Neapolitan’s errors and attempts; but does he think that there is no conscious or unconscious fraud with the American medium, and that defunct Phinuit is alone responsible for the inaccuracies and falsehoods observed in Mrs. Piper’s mediumship, whilst Eusapia’s fraud is conscious and voluntary?

As far as his experiments with Eusapia Paladino are concerned, I will reply to him that, in a great measure, he and his friends were responsible for her frauds, and almost wholly responsible for the failure of the experiments. They appear to have neglected the psychological side of a medium’s rôle, and forgot that a medium is not a mechanical instrument.

Eusapia was not at her ease, and, if my memory serves me right, she found the Cambridge centre rather disdainful and haughty, save Mr. and Mrs. Myers. She was dull and lonely. I think she was not admitted to the same table. But I will not affirm this detail; it seems to me she told me, she was usually served apart from the members of the household.

The seances were too numerous (there were twenty seances held in less than seven weeks—a seance every other day) if we take into consideration her not being very well, and consequently unfit for anything for a few days. This was making sure of bad results, especially as the seances sometimes lasted two and a half to three hours. It was impossible for the medium to recruit her strength physically or morally, especially in a country where the manners, life, language, and even the cooking were so different from those at Naples. She was not well when in England. Was she long ill? I cannot say; but I can affirm that she did not go home satisfied.

It appears, however, that the first seances were pretty good; there were some suspicious things, as is often the case with Eusapia. Hodgson’s arrival changed everything: it was then that fraud was discovered, but a long time after Richet and Toselli had pointed it out.

How did Hodgson go to work? He appears to have conceived the singular idea not to control Eusapia at all, and to leave at her free disposal the hand he was supposed to hold. Every time he ceased to feel the contact of her hand, he announced a phenomenon; the phenomenon produced, he related his impressions in English to his co-experimenters. These were two capital mistakes. The first passed even unconscious fraud: for though severe control sometimes stops the phenomena, at least it effectually prevents trickery. The second, by arousing Eusapia’s jealous susceptibility, was bound to worry and irritate her. These considerations may appear to be secondary to persons, who are not acquainted with the difficulties which the observation of psychical phenomena present; those who are familiar with them will not gainsay me. However, if the Cambridge experimenters had not gone any further than this, we might excuse them, and simply consider they had blundered touching the necessary conditions; but they went further. They invited to the seances Messrs. Maskelyne, father and son. These men, the well-known directors of the Egyptian Hall in London, have made it a speciality of producing by conjuring the phenomena called ‘spiritistic.’

Mr. Maskelyne, senior, did not conceal his bias, to judge by his letters in the Daily Chronicle (29th Oct. 1895, and following days). This conjurer explained certain levitations in a singular fashion. A small table had been carried on to the seance-table. According to Maskelyne, Eusapia had seized it with her teeth by bending backwards, and by this feat of dental strength had herself carried and placed the smaller table on the larger one! Mr. Maskelyne felt the movement, just as Dr. Hodgson felt he had lost the contact of the hand, when a phenomenon was going to be produced. From this negative observation, Mr. Maskelyne, like Hodgson, deducts the positive conclusion, that the phenomenon was normally and fraudulently produced. I retain Mr. Maskelyne’s affirmation, that the backward movement Eusapia made when the small table was carried on to the larger one, revealed her method to him. Hodgson has the same impression as the conjurer. In concluding as they do, they both forget this circumstance, often observed with the Italian medium, that synchronous movements of her limbs accompany the phenomenon. If Mr. Maskelyne is excusable in not having studied and examined this circumstance, Dr. Hodgson, well acquainted with psychical matters, is unpardonable in having neglected it. This omission is a fundamental gap in his reasoning; and I think it robs it of all serious value.

Let us take another example in the rare indications given by the Cambridge experimenters (Extracts from report of seance of 1st Sept. 1895, Journal, vii. 151-153):—[‘The Report consists of notes taken by Mr. Myers at the time from the dictation of the sitters, with supplementary statements added by some of the sitters afterwards; these are placed in square brackets, and all except those to which Mrs. Sidgwick’s initials are appended were written by Dr. Hodgson on Sept. 2nd and 3rd. The italics refer to the descriptions of phenomena, the ordinary type to the conditions of holding, etc.]. [Sitters arranged as follows:—

‘Mrs. Myers goes under the table, has the medium’s feet on palms of hands far apart.]

‘7. 6. Three knocks [which sounded as if made on the top of the table]. Right hand lies across R. H. and holds H. S.’s three fingers with at least two. Left hand holds F. D. and Mrs. S. Three movements made with left hand beforehand. Knees not moved and feet held tight. [Medium was asked to repeat this phenomenon.]

‘7. 7. Three knocks, rather loud and dull [resembling the preceding]. Right hand moving, holding H. S.’s and R. H.’s. Left hand well off the table; holding satisfactory, held by F. D. and Mrs. S. Feet well held, knees not moved.

‘[Both series of three knocks were doubtless produced by Eusapia’s head. On the second occasion, I succeeded in getting her head between me and a slight light from the curtains behind, and observed the motion of her head part of the way forward and back. She moved her right hand, with H. S.’s hand and mine, forward, outward, and upward somewhat, and possibly made a similar movement with her left hand, thus giving herself a free space to bend her head forward and down, and at the same time having the hands which were holding hers, in a position from which it would be more difficult to grab.] [And had practically six hands out of the way of an accidental contact with her head. E. M. S.].’

Such is the procès-verbal. Dr. Hodgson, I repeat, has been so severe with others, that he will forgive me for being exigent with him.

Is it admissible to reason in this way? to consider that she has, perhaps, made a movement with the left hand similar to the one effected with the right hand, and afterwards to hold that supposition as a demonstrated fact? Should he not have remembered that such a movement, in a big woman like Eusapia, cannot be easily made without her arms betraying the movement of the spinal column, and the muscles of the neck, without the knees revealing the movement of the body?

Now, the knee did not move; and Hodgson points out no movement of the arm.

The movement of the head might have been one of those synchronous movements of which I have spoken. Dr. Hodgson has omitted to consider this hypothesis.

To sum up, limiting ourselves simply to published documents, we see that the English experimenters paid no attention to the conditions under which it is expedient to operate, that they tired out the medium, surrounded her with elements of suspicion, encouraged her to fraud—Dr. Hodgson especially—and finally concealed from her the severe judgment they had formed about her. As Richet says, the Cambridge experiments prove only one thing, which is, that in that particular series of seances Eusapia frauded with her well-known methods, but it is rash to conclude thereupon that she has always frauded.[41]

The analysis of the documents published permits me to ascertain:—

In a word, the Cambridge experimenters operated under bad conditions: they could not obtain any good results by acting as they did. But, even under these wretched conditions, they ought to have received some veridical phenomena, and the reading of their publications leads us to presume they did receive some. In any case, their report does not demonstrate that everything was explicable by fraud, and is not sufficient to justify the sweeping judgment they brought to bear upon Eusapia Paladino.

Now, if we compare the Cambridge results with those obtained by other experimenters, the conclusion we draw from these documents becomes more precise. I refer my readers to the reports of the experiments at Milan (Ann. des Sc. Psych., 1893), and at l’Agnélas (Ibid. 1896). I will only dwell upon my personal experience with Eusapia. I experimented with this medium in 1895, 1896, and 1897, and I obtained undeniable phenomena with her.

Like other Continental experimenters, I tried to put Eusapia at her ease, to win her confidence and sympathy; and the results of my seances were convincing.

At l’Agnélas, out of seance hours, and in full light, I saw the table raised to the height of my forehead. Every one was standing up, Eusapia’s hands were held and seen; her left hand, held by me, rested on the right angle of the table.

At Choisy, in 1897, we received doubtful phenomena, notably the apport of a carnation which appeared most suspicious to us; but we spoke openly of our doubts to Eusapia. At other times the phenomena were of extraordinary intensity. One afternoon, Sunday, 11th October, all the sitters, even those furthest away from the medium, were touched.

But it was at Bordeaux, perhaps, in 1897 that the phenomena were most intense. I find in my notes—which are not, and make no claim to be, reports—the following recital:—

‘P. is vigorously touched. Eusapia gives him the control of her hands and feet. P. receives slaps in the back every time Eusapia presses his foot. The noise is distinctly heard. P.’s chair is shaken and drawn from under him. Eusapia rubs her feet on the floor, to give fluid, she says. Finally P.’s chair is slowly carried on to the seance-table. The persons (Dr. Denucé, Madame A., and I) for whom P. is between the table and the window (a light from outside streams through the Persian shutters) see the chair very clearly outlined on the window (a large bay, six feet wide). After having been placed on the table, the chair is taken back to the floor, and, a second time, carried on to the table. The movements were slowly produced; while they were being produced, the hands, feet, and head of the medium were under control. If any part of the medium’s body had touched the chair, the contact would have been seen on the silhouette of the chair, the latter standing out well against the lighted-up window. While the chair is in movement P. is crouching down on his heels; he is touched on the back, his garments are pulled, he is tickled; at the same time the table is levitated. These three manifestations were produced simultaneously.’

This phenomenon is, perhaps, the most convincing Eusapia has given me in demi-obscurity; it was impossible to produce these three manifestations simultaneously with a free hand and foot (admitting there had been substitution): knowing the possible frauds, I had indicated to my co-experimenters Eusapia’s ordinary tricks. Moreover, Dr. Denucé and P., a barrister at Bordeaux, were both au courant with the usual frauds, and were experienced experimenters. I draw special attention to the visibility of the chair suspended in the air. We only saw the outline of the chair, but we saw it plainly.

Here is another levitation obtained under conditions which exclude every device pointed out by Messrs. Hodgson and Maskelyne: teeth, strap, hook, foot, hand holding the table, pressure of the knees, etc.:—

‘Afterwards Eusapia makes us get up. She pulls the table into the centre of the room (telling us she is doing this herself). She invites M. to hold her feet; M. goes under the table. Eusapia becomes impatient, and says to him “dietro” because the table would hurt her; M. stoops down behind Eusapia, and seizes her by the feet. Eusapia then says she is going to raise the table without touching it. A circle is made around the table, which, after several oscillations, rises up vertically. The top of the table reaches as high as our foreheads.

‘A second time the table is levitated under the same conditions, and to the same height. The experimenters are all standing up around the table, and no hand at all touches it.’

The table stood out plainly against the window. It would have been easy to see the limb or instrument which was in contact with it, had there been any such contact.

Professor Sidgwick ‘often asked Eusapia—or rather John—to favour him with a hand-grasp when he was holding the two hands of the medium in his two hands, since he regarded this as the only mode of holding the hands which could ever be perfectly satisfactory to him.’ He solicited in vain. Now we obtained this phenomenon frequently:—

‘Eusapia takes Dr. D.’s two hands, and gives him her two hands to control. Under these conditions Dr. D. is touched. Eusapia does the same thing with P., who is several times touched.’

Here are some phenomena obtained with a bright green light. ‘One side of the table rises up, followed by two good levitations: the table is levitated to a height of about one foot six inches, and remains from two to three seconds in the air. Eusapia’s hands are well controlled and visible; her feet do not move. The feet of the table (visible to me) are not in contact with Eusapia’s dress during the levitation. I see the dress distinctly; it is motionless. When the levitation took place no hand was touching the table.’

Finally, here is a crucial experiment, an account of which M. de Rochas has published in the Annales des Sciences Psychiques in 1898. At that moment I still suspended my judgment, not that my opinion with regard to the phenomena produced by Eusapia and verified by me was uncertain, but because I wished to study other mediums before pronouncing my judgment. My studies are now sufficiently complete, from the point of view of the observation of these facts, to permit me to declare my opinion. The reasons of prudence, which led me to beg M. de Rochas to withhold my name from his report, no longer exist. Here is the extract from my notes made at the time of the experiment:—

‘I had bought, during the day, a letter-balance, which I brought to the seance. Eusapia makes us sit for two or three minutes with our hands on the table. Then she approaches her hands to the letter-balance, placing her left hand on top of Dr. D.’s right hand. Dr. D. mentions the sensation of a cold breeze, which ceases and recommences. Eusapia’s hands are at about fifteen centimetres away from the letter-balance. She makes two or three ascending and descending movements with her hands, palm directed downwards. At the second movement the letter-balance is pushed to the limit of its course, requiring for this a force of more than one hundred and seventy grammes. Eusapia takes P.’s left hand, and tries the experiment with him. She asks if he feels the cool breeze. In a few seconds P. feels it over the third and fourth fingers. (P.’s left hand is under the medium’s right hand.) The tray is lowered, and the hand stops at the division 20.

‘Eusapia takes Dr. D.’s hand again. She forms a triangle with her hands. Dr. D. has always his right hand in Eusapia’s left. The latter’s hands are about fifteen centimetres away from one another, and about ten centimetres away from the edge of the apparatus. The tray of the latter is lowered; the hand marks 90 grammes, and slowly returns to 0; in the two preceding experiments it had returned abruptly.

‘Eusapia tries to raise the scale. She directs her hands palms upwards. The scale raises itself.

‘P. puts a black pocket-book weighing seventy grammes on the tray. Eusapia begins the last experiment over again. After two or three movements of her hands, palms upwards, the tray is raised to its uttermost limit.’

These experiments were made in a good green light.

In conclusion, we never hesitated to act openly with Eusapia, telling her what we thought. For example, at one time, in obscurity, Eusapia drew the table to her without announcing it was she who did it. P. immediately said: ‘It is the medium who’s drawing the table.’ Eusapia was not annoyed, and said that P. was right to speak of what he noticed.

These experiments at Choisy and Bordeaux, in the course of which there were both good and bad seances, convinced me that I had not been the victim of illusion at l’Agnélas in M. de Rochas’ house.

My judgment will convince no one. In such matters we must see for ourselves in order to be convinced. Mr. Hodgson himself knows this to-day. My testimony contradicts formally and explicitly the conclusions of the Cambridge investigators. Eusapia does not always defraud; with us, she rarely defrauded.

Let me terminate this discussion with Richet’s words: ‘Malgré les apparences qui sont en effet souvent contre Eusapia, je ne suis fixé en aucune manière sur ce que j’ai appelé jusqu’ici fraude.... Il est possible, que dans l‘état de trance, ou dans les états voisins, la psychologie d’un médium soit très différente de la nôtre.’

APPENDIX B

I have criticised somewhat lengthily M. Janet’s opinions: will the reader kindly allow me to make yet another incursion into scientific ground. For it is perhaps necessary to reply to some objections which are advanced—doubtless in all sincerity—by certain savants who are either ill informed, or lacking in adequate knowledge of the subject. Professor Grasset of the university of Montpellier, for whose talent and earnestness I have the greatest respect, has just published a long article entitled Le Spiritisme et la Science in the last volume of his Leçons de clinique médicale (t. iv., 1903, p. 374). He begins by stating that he is going to take Janet as his guide, because the latter’s ‘luminous ideas are and remain for him the sole scientific basis now existing of these questions.’ Though we see it in print, this assertion is so extraordinary, that we wonder if we be not dreaming when reading it. Professor Grasset, then, is going to take Janet as a guide, Janet who has never seen anything! It makes one think of the fable, only, this time, it is the blind man who climbs on the paralytic’s back. Grasset is going to deal with matters of such importance, so prolific probably in new and unexpected consequences, without consulting the writers who have described the phenomena he is going to study! The authors from whose works he quotes—Jules Bois, Papus, Péladan, Mme. de Thébes, Léo Taxil!—have more to do with the charms of fancy than with the gravity of science. The task of refuting their assertions is far too easy a one, and the learned professor ought to have chosen other and better representatives of psychical research. His argumentation falls short of the mark.

Professor Grasset’s case is, however, instructive. I consider him as one of our best-informed scientists, and he seems to look upon psychical research without prejudice. Nobody can doubt his earnestness, his learning, his talent; but, in spite of these qualities, he shows himself to be unfamiliar with the serious work which has been done, and which is being done in psychical matters. When he quotes Myers, he misquotes him. When he discusses the Piper case, he sums up the account given of the case by M. Mangin in the Annales des Sciences Psychiques, and does not say a word of the careful reports drawn up by Hodgson and Hyslop. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, if the professor’s statements do not agree with the facts. He does not appear to have studied either the original reports or M. Sage’s remarkable summary of these reports.

Professor Grasset simply says: ‘Four months after the death of Mr. Robinson (George Pelham), Mrs. Piper gave a seance in the house of one of Mr. Robinson’s friends and fell into a trance.’ [A slight mistake, the seance took place at Mrs. Piper’s.] ‘P., the secondary personality, said that George Robinson was ready to communicate; and henceforth this spirit took part in Mrs. Piper’s seances as another familiar spirit. Such an example shows how polygonal incarnations are formed during the medium’s trance.’

And no more! Professor Grasset does not see the real problem: did the medium show any knowledge of facts known only to the deceased? This is the problem. The mode of formation of the secondary personality is but an accessory question.

This kind of reasoning is common to savants. They keep aloof from the real psychological problem, and only discuss its side issues. I am sorry to see a man of Professor Grasset’s worth fall into the usual errors, and pronounce a judgment upon facts before thoroughly acquainting himself with those facts.

Professor Grasset speaks of spiritisme scientifique as belonging to the realm of biology, and demanding the serious attention of scientists. But why speak of spiritism? Spiritism is a religion, it is not a science; it is the systematic explanation of the ensemble of certain facts, so far very ill understood, but it is not the assertion of those facts. Are the alleged facts true? That is the question which biology has to examine. Spiritism, on the contrary, that is to say, the ensemble of metaphysical doctrines founded upon the revelations of spirits, cannot be considered, at least for the present, as belonging to biology. I beg Professor Grasset not to confound the impartial, unbiased research for scientific truth with spiritism.

The little influence which the criticism of savants—of even the most renowned among them—has had upon contemporary thought (e.g. it has not been able to prevent or put a stop to the quest in the domain of psychical sciences), is due precisely to their lack of correct information. They have always reasoned beside the question, analysing the facts imperfectly, admitting only those which they can easily explain, and rejecting all others as fraudulent or doubtful. To those who have studied these ‘fraudulent and doubtful’ facts, they are neither doubtful nor fraudulent, and the only effect, which the obstinate negation of certain savants has, is to rob their words of all serious influence and value. And this is a pity, for the savants themselves first of all, and afterwards for the public who, ill enlightened, become the prey of charlatans or the victims of illuminés.

[40] There are apparent exceptions to this rule.

[41] ‘A Cambridge Eusapia pendant une série de séances a fraudé avec ses procédés connus. Voilà la première conclusion. Et voici la seconde. En mettant Eusapia dans l’impossibilité de frauder, pendant cette même série d’expériences de Cambridge, Eusapia n’a pas pu produire un seul phénomène vrai....

‘Il me paraît qu’il est téméraire de conclure que tous les phénomènes produits ou présumés produits par Eusapia sont faux.... Sous des influences morales et psychologiques dont la nature nous échappe, pendant un très long temps Eusapia est incapable de pouvoir exercer une action vraie quelconque, et peut-être, à Cambridge elle s’est trouvée dans ces conditions.... J’en conclus qu’il n’y a encore rien de démontré, ni dans un sens, ni dans l’autre, et qu’il faut courageusement poursuivre la recherche; et expérimenter encore.’—Charles Richet. (Journal S. P. R., vii. 179.)

APPENDIX C

It is to the kindness of M. Braunschweig that I owe the following story, which is instructive from several points of view. M. Braunschweig, a retired business man, intelligent and highly educated, is well known in his town. The phenomena, of which he guarantees the authenticity, have not been observed by me; but the disastrous consequences of his and M. Vergniat’s too great confidence in a ‘spirit’ taught him such a useful and serious lesson, that I thought I would do well to make it known. I only give it with that object, for I cannot personally vouch for the extraordinary facts in this interesting recital. I give this recital in extenso without changing anything, in order not to alter its physiognomy.

A Mystery

Canius Junius when walking to the scaffold said to his friends: ‘You ask me if the soul is immortal; I am going to find out, and if I can, I will return to tell you.’

These notes, written in haste, and, as it were, off-hand, have no other claim than to bring a few strange facts together, leaving every one free to appreciate them as they think best.

For a while I was swayed by a preoccupation; I hesitated in the face of incredulity, which thrusts aside all which is neither matter nor number, to unveil phenomena of the nature of those which have been verified by so many persons already; but the duty imposed upon me of preserving my children from trials similar to mine, has triumphed over my hesitation, and I will proclaim the truth without any fear of their ever doubting their father’s veracity.

In writing these lines, I yield to a feeling that the witness of mysterious facts ought to give, in the interests of humanity or science, a scrupulously exact narration of what he has seen. And particularly so when his revelations are likely to preserve the inexperienced from the pitfalls of an occult power which it would be as senseless to deny the existence of as to doubt of its power for good or evil, according as it desires good or evil. I therefore accomplish what I believe to be a duty. This conviction suffices to brave the spirit always more or less strong, which is ever inclined to deny what it cannot explain.

The fear of being accused of seeking for sympathy, by relating these facts of which I have been the victim, might also have stopped me from speaking; but for the loss of a few worldly goods, my mind, my soul, finds ample compensation in that certitude of a future life, which results from the facts the Master permitted me to witness.

It was in 1867. Attracted by the noise of a trumpet, I crossed La Place Saint-André, and went down the dark, narrow street which, at that time, skirted the Cathedral, and where bric-à-brac dealers used to spread out their wares. At the corner of the street Palangues, I came across a crowd gathered around an auctioneer who was holding a sale of statuary.

I was passing on indifferently when the auctioneer held up a statuette, the outlines and graceful pose of which immediately struck my fancy.

Was it a Virgin? A mater dolorosa? I do not know. But I still see that beautiful face, stamped with sadness, the eyes upraised, two great tears tremblingly seeming to implore me to put a stop to this profanation. The general appearance of the statue—its head bent slightly forward—and the graceful drapery denoted a work of art.

I bought it, yielding simply to the desire of possessing an artistic work, and not to satisfy any religious sentiment, which, I must own, did not exist.

I also bought a bracket to support the statuette, and a few minutes afterwards, everything was arranged in my room, Rue du Palais Tallien, No. 147.

My wife, Madame Vergniat, was at Périgord. When she returned home, she was surprised to see, in the most conspicuous spot in my room, a religious object which I myself had bought.

Her surprise was legitimate, for strong prejudices against religion left little room in my mind for religious practices.

Nothing strange happened in that house, although we lived in it for a long time after the purchase of the statuette. But I always felt such great pleasure in admiring my Virgin, that I have often wondered whether this ill-defined attraction were not the prelude, and, in some measure, a first influence of the mysterious facts which were going to happen.

We left our residence in the Rue du Palais Tallien to go to a house I had bought in the Rue Malbec, No. 116.

It was a detached house surrounded by a garden; it contained two bedrooms, a sitting-room, and a vestibule which served as a dining-room.

In order to make my recital intelligible, I am obliged to give a few details about the furniture and its arrangement.

A night-table separated my bed from the fireplace. Above the table was a holy-water fount; above the latter an oil painting representing the Virgin; finally, near the ceiling, the statuette on its bracket.

To the left of the night-table, in the recess beside the chimney, there was a panoply composed of swords and sabres.

When we were settled, Madame Vergniat again visited Périgord. It was during her absence that the first manifestation took place, but I attached no great importance to it.

Here are the circumstances under which the phenomenon occurred.

I was awakened in the night by the sound of a violent blow as of some one hammering at the front door. I promptly lit the candle, and looked at the time; it was one o’clock.

This visit was not of a reassuring nature, for, to be able to knock at the front door at this hour of the night, it was necessary to leap over the gate, which, securely closed, barred access to the house.

Before proceeding to open the door, I waited for a second knock, but in vain. I was awakened, at the same hour on the following night, by a similar rap.

The nurse, sleeping with the children in the next room, hearing the knock, got frightened. I tried to reassure her by saying: ‘To-morrow a loaded gun will receive the individual who takes such a pleasure in arousing us.’

I underline these words, because further on we will have occasion of seeing them repeated in a surprising manner.

A few months later, and without any new incidents occurring in the meantime, our nurse was discharged, and replaced by a strong healthy girl from the Pyrenees.

The nocturnal visit had been quite forgotten, when on the 23rd January 1868, Madame Vergniat and the nurse, who were busy in my room, heard something like a rustling on the window-panes, and saw the statuette bow twice, as though saluting them. At first they thought an earthquake had happened, and when I entered they related the incident to me in scared tones.

The statuette was indeed displaced; but was that sufficient to convince me? No.

I laughed at the story, convinced that my wife and the nurse were victims of an illusion.

However, on the morrow and following days, the same phenomena occurring at the same hour, that is to say towards eleven o’clock in the morning, I determined to stay at home and verify de visu this marvellous fact.

I got what I wanted; for on that day, the statuette turned about now to the right, now to the left, twelve or fourteen times. Sometimes it advanced and balanced itself on the edge of the pedestal.

The evolution was so prompt and so unexpected, that the eye could scarcely follow the movement.

I was not long in ascertaining that, before executing these movements, the mysterious power awaited the moment when the attention, tired of remaining on the qui vive, was off its guard. Then a sharp sounding rap, similar to the discharge of an electric spark, denoted that the evolution had taken place.

The picture hanging under the statuette lost its equilibrium, the bénitier fell over, and the swords swayed about like so many clock pendulums.

I noticed that the presence of my wife and the nurse aided these manifestations considerably; I even noticed that the appearance of either of them on the threshold of the room sufficed to provoke the phenomena.

I tried to dissimulate the preoccupation these manifestations caused me, and I pretended to attach no importance to them, in order to react against the exaltation and fear which were taking hold of Madame Vergniat and the nurse, and of the two work-women, who were also constant witnesses of this disorder.

But instead of aiding me in my efforts, the Virgin no longer contented herself with simple evolutions on her pedestal. She began to let herself fall down on the eiderdown of my bed, and would remain buried there until a sharp sounding rap announced that she had returned to her pedestal.

In a short time, the raps became more frequent, and did not always indicate displacements. We heard them on the doors, on the cupboards, etc., and even in the middle of the garden.

Thus on returning home one day, such a formidable rap resounded, that the neighbours ran to their windows, and called out to me: ‘Well, M. Vergniat, one would think you were being saluted.’

These facts, already so extraordinary, were to be succeeded by others more extraordinary still.

The watchmaker, M. Ouvrard, who wound up our clocks every fortnight, having at one time taken up the study of somnambulism, thought he recognised in our nurse a subject who would be susceptible to magnetic influences, and proposed putting her to sleep.

A few minutes sufficed to obtain the state of prostration and insensibility which characterises magnetic sleep. For the first few seances, Marie’s replies were unintelligible, but she very soon began to express herself clearly and even with volubility.

Considering the state of mind the manifestations of the statuette kept us in, it will be readily understood that the first question put to the somnambulist was, ‘Do you see who it is who moves the Virgin about?’

‘I see him,’ she replied, ‘he is close to me on his knees, praying. It is a man dressed in a brown coat, holding a dark-covered book in his hand. I do not see his face. I only see a part of his moustache, for he is turning his back to me.’

For several days her answers were always the same. But having insisted upon knowing the name of the man in prayer, the somnambulist at last replied, ‘I am Madame’s father.’

However, this assertion was soon contradicted by a more explicit declaration.

It was so easy to produce the magnetic sleep with Marie, that, once when she asked me to put her to sleep, I succeeded in doing so without having any other notions about such things than those I had gathered from our few seances; but I found it impossible to awaken her, and was obliged to send for the watchmaker, hoping he would help me out of my dilemma. He arrived, but his efforts were in vain.

The somnambulist made fun of us, and teased the watchmaker about his embonpoint.

This fact is to be noted, for it contradicts the current belief that the subject obeys the will of the magnetiser: but what follows reveals a phenomenon of vastly different interest.

Marie ceased to speak in her own name. A spirit having taken possession of her will, declared that all our efforts to awaken the somnambulist would be useless.

‘I am quite comfortable here,’ said the spirit, ‘and it pleases me to stay. But at four o’clock, I am wanted elsewhere; the somnambulist will then awaken of her own accord. Have the patience to wait.’

At the hour mentioned, at the exact moment, the somnambulist returned to her normal state.

From that day forth the somnambulist remained constantly under the influence of the spirits who took possession of her during her sleep. Thus, as soon as she was asleep, the spirit sometimes said, ‘I have only a few minutes to stay’; and when the time was up, Marie would awaken without any intervention.

During these more or less lengthy conversations, the spirit took a fancy to calling me his son. His advice testified to a disposition of great benevolence, and was chiefly of a profoundly religious character. It is incontestable that, by an inexplicable phenomenon, Marie’s faculties were replaced, during these communications, by a spirit whose superiority it was impossible not to recognise, a superiority revealed by the tone of the discussion and the choice of expressions.

Pressing him one day for an explanation, I resolutely asked him, ‘But who are you, then?’

‘I am he, you wanted to receive with a loaded gun, when I knocked at your door at one o’clock in the morning.’

Remember the somnambulist was absolutely ignorant of this fact, as she was not in our service when the strange nocturnal visit occurred.

As for the Virgin, she was not at a standstill all this time; she continued to turn five or six times every day.

The good advice of the spirit, the purity of his principles, most certainly interested me; but I confess the statuette interested me more. Had I not a tangible, undeniable fact before me, just as stubborn as my reason tried to be? Stamping my feet I repeated, ‘And still she turns.’

Ever on my guard, even in face of evidence, I gave myself the satisfaction of imprisoning the Virgin, but in such a way as to be able to verify her evolutions.

I had a niche of wire made, covered with transparent gauze, and, sealing it to the wall, I securely shut up the statuette therein.

My work done, I left my room. At once a formidable rap resounded: I ran to the room, everything had disappeared, the pedestal alone was still in its place. The Virgin, thrown on to the bed, was found buried in the eiderdown, whilst the casing was at the side of the bed.

My precautions having incurred displeasure, I took care not to renew them. When consulted on this, the next day, the somnambulist, or rather the spirit acting through her, said, ‘Never touch the Virgin, leave her there; otherwise she will be transferred,’ adding, ‘he who takes her away from her pedestal will know very well how to put her back again.’

This recommendation was followed; but one day the statuette disappeared. Madame Vergniat having quite got over her first fears, searched for it actively everywhere, and after having turned the house upside down in her quest, found it in a cupboard behind the children’s bed. This cupboard, being dissimulated by tapestry, had never been used, and we did not even know of its existence.

How had the Virgin got into it?

The displacements became more and more frequent. For instance, the statuette took it into its head to change rooms, and the sitting-room became its favourite resort, but it never let a whole day pass without reappearing upon its pedestal.

The doors opened and shut before it with the same sharp sound which followed each evolution. All this went on so rapidly that we were more surprised than inconvenienced.

Under the influence of these phenomena, the ordinary sleep of the somnambulist became heavier. At night she was often heard speaking aloud. She awakened with difficulty, and having shaken off her torpor, she could not open her eyes. ‘They feel as though they were glued down,’ she used to say. But placing her fingers on Marie’s eyelids, Madame Vergniat used to pray, and the difficulty would disappear.

In her ordinary sleep, the conversation was not serious; it was more often commonplace, full of jesting, sometimes even of bad taste; whereas in provoked sleep, we constantly found a serious spirit, professing the purest maxims, and giving advice full of sincere charity.

I asked this mysterious spirit if it were true that he was Madame’s father, as he had once declared himself to be.

Here is his reply, I give it word for word: ‘My son, I read in your mind (for you cannot hide your thoughts from me) that not having enough faith to attribute to God the happiness of the visit you receive in your house, you seek its explanation in absurd suppositions. Do not believe in spiritism, my son.

‘God, who is essentially good, could not permit your spirit-friends, after having gone through all the trials of earth, to be condemned to look on at the turpitudes and the sufferings of those who are dear to them. This is a torture which God did not wish to reserve for you.

‘Yes, a Spirit exists; but He is alone, unique, and that Spirit is mine. It is He who breathes into all things, who animates all things; He who makes you act, walk, stop when you believe that your own will is all-powerful.

‘That Spirit, I repeat, is unique. It is the Master’s.’

Let us remark, en passant, that this is the opinion of Mallbranche, who claims God to be the immediate Author of the union we admire between soul and body.

‘I see that you doubt my words,’ added the spirit, ‘(for I have already told you that you cannot hide your thoughts or actions from me), and you are saying, “What presumption! to suppose that I have deserved such a visit, and that the Divine Spirit has knocked at my door!”

‘You prefer, therefore, my son, to doubt my words and to stand aloof from the truth. So be it! but do not forget, whatever your appreciation may be about me and the object of my visit, be assured that I am only able to visit your home in pursuance of a supreme will, and that all your efforts to drive me away, and even my desire to leave you before the accomplishment of my mission, would be equally useless.

‘Welcome me, therefore, as a kind father who comes to help his son to tread the painful path of life. I have never left you since you came into the world. We have gone through many worries together, we have borne many sorrows; but better times are at hand, and I am able to reveal to you, my child, that from the moment I am able to make my voice heard, the blessing of the Master will assure you the repose of body, soul, and spirit.

‘No more worry for you, your father is here to shield you. But in exchange for the good which my mission is to bring you, I ask you to turn your thoughts to the Creator, and thank Him for the immense favour He has accorded you. For, learn that no man has ever before received such a Visitor in his home.

‘I desire you to attend divine service regularly, and to go to communion.

‘I also desire you to help those people whose addresses and needs I will make known to you; but as I am a protector, if I impose charges upon you, I will also procure you the means of providing for them.’

Imagine what an influence these mysterious facts already exercised over me, when I say that I promised everything, and, like a submissive child, took the communion with fervour.

From that day forth the benevolence of the unknown was extended over every one and every thing, from the household to the house needs. His solicitude, for the somnambulist especially, drove him sometimes to charge me with delicate missions, of which I will give an example.

I had once just put Marie to sleep, when the spirit manifested itself, saying:—

‘I am going to speak to you about some of the private affairs of the somnambulist, and I beg you to follow my instructions.

‘This girl thinks of marrying a carpenter, named Toussaint, who has been following her about for a long time. But Marie’s parents, who are honest folk, will never consent to this marriage. First of all, because Toussaint is a worthless fellow, and in the second place, because Toussaint’s brother was condemned yesterday to pay an ignominious penalty for a foul crime he has committed.

‘Therefore, Marie must cease to know this young man; moreover, his jealous and violent character might soon endanger her life.

‘Marie is ignorant of these details. Therefore, when she awakens, take care not to repeat our conversation; but to-morrow, when returning from Bordeaux, tell her about this as though it were some news you had heard of in town.

‘Marie will deny everything, first of all; she will pretend not to know the individual; but insist upon it, and she will confess everything.’

And this, in fact, is what happened.

The spirit went on to say:—

‘This workman has recently wounded his hand, and is consequently debarred from working; he is always prowling about the house, and I advise you to be on your guard against him.’

Marie often used to ask me to put her to sleep in the evening. Then, strange to say, she would tell us when and how many times this man Toussaint would pass the door, the next day.

This information was always correct. However, one day, our man did not turn up at the given time—he was two minutes late. Marie was asleep in the sitting-room, and I went backwards and forwards from her to the terrace. I was nearly losing patience, when she cried out, ‘He is coming—you will barely have time to get to the terrace.’ And so it was; as soon as I reached my post of observation, the carpenter came into the Rue Malbec out of the Rue Bègles.

A few days afterwards, the spirit, whom the somnambulist called ‘Grand Father,’ warned us that Marie ran a great risk. Toussaint having had the door shown to him everywhere because of the disgrace which had fallen upon his family, had made up his mind to avenge himself.

Animated with the worst designs, he had shaved off his beard in order to make himself unrecognisable; and hiding a large knife under his coat, he was bending his way to the house, with the fixed purpose, said the spirit, of striking Marie.

When giving us this information through the somnambulist, our mysterious friend added: ‘Do not allow this girl to go out to-day. I will deliver you from this dangerous man very soon, by making him wish to go on a long voyage, from which he will never return.’

Two or three days afterwards, Marie heard that this individual had left for Algeria.

First of all we have seen, by the substitution of the spirit to the faculties of the somnambulist, how our free-will is subordinated to occult influences. And if the objection be made that in that case, magnetic influences facilitated this substitution, there still remains the case of the carpenter, whose free-will was absolutely subjugated after premeditation, as is shown by the spirit’s declaration that he would ‘make him wish to take a long voyage from which the individual would never return.’

In proportion as these strange facts succeeded each other, we yielded further and further to an influence from which it was impossible to escape—I may even say we were happy to obey.

How could we thrust aside advice which was always thoroughly honest, and with which the name of God was constantly associated?

After the somnambulist, Madame Vergniat was the one who felt the effects of this mysterious atmosphere the most strongly.

For my part, I had, at first, confined myself simply to observing the phenomena, to accepting them only as a study; but under the influence of surprise upon surprise, filled with admiration, I ended in blind submission. And yet, we were only at the beginning of our marvellous manifestations.

Often, during a meal, if we had need of something or other, Marie would bring it to us before we asked for it. A voice, which she thought was at times mine, at times Madame Vergniat’s, transmitted our desire to her before it was expressed. It was a splendid case of thought transference.

If the maid’s work was not quite properly done, he who watched over the house so assiduously, punished her immediately, by removing with remarkable dexterity the foulard she wore on her head. And if she ever happened to be wanting in politeness towards us, she was instantly called to order in the same way, without any consideration for the place or circumstances she might be in at the moment. I have often seen her foulard thrown on the ground, to remind her that she should allow us to pass before her into a carriage, omnibus, etc.

I have also had occasion to witness a very surprising manifestation, surprising because of the facility shown for displacing a piece of furniture the weight of which was relatively considerable.

Often, after retiring to rest, the somnambulist would feel her bed gently rolled into the centre of the floor, and then back again to its place. This to-and-fro movement used to be repeated as often as three or four times in the same evening; the movement was slow, we could see distinctly that great mass moving about under the impulsion of some invisible force.

The somnambulist, as I said in the beginning, was a big, stout girl from the Pyrenees. She could neither read nor write, and the sight of all these supernatural things astounded and alarmed her. I have remarked that, in her normal state, she often forgot what she had seen the previous day. But what she really did understand was that ‘Grand Father’ was not satisfied with her when a crust of bread or some cheese was thrown at her head; this was a sure sign that there was a hitch somewhere.

In the vestibule, which we used as a dining-room, a small Louis xv. lustre was suspended; it often swayed about when we sat down to meals, and the movement, which was always preceded by a rustling on the metal chains, was slow or accelerated according to my wife’s expressed or unexpressed wish.

If we had visitors, everything was so quiet that no one would ever have suspected what strange things happened to us habitually. It looked as though these manifestations were reserved for the inmates of the house and for a few privileged guests, whose attention was, perforce, aroused by the noise.

Two young girls, one Anna ——, from Périgord, the other Mathilde ——, from Bordeaux, who worked almost constantly in our house, were present at most of these occurrences, and ‘Grand Father’ even testified much affection for these girls.

In the beginning, I said that when the statuette turned on its pedestal, the swords had moved about in the contrary direction. One of them was unhooked and deposited in a corner of the wall, but in the presence of Madame Vergniat an invisible force almost immediately put it slowly back again in its place.

The oscillations of the lustre, the movements of the swords, the displacements of the bed were the only phenomena which the eye was able to follow; all the others were so rapid that they escaped even the most vigilant attention.

Our presence in the house was not necessary to produce noises and other phenomena. The fact which I am going to relate contradicts the opinion emitted by some spiritists, that spirits borrow the force which is indispensable to produce these displacements from the mediums or assistants.

We once went to spend a day in the country, taking the nurse with us, and leaving the house empty for the day. Returning in the evening, the neighbours came out to meet us saying that they feared all our crockery was broken, because ever since our departure a dreadful noise had reigned in the house. We searched all the rooms, but no damage had been done, and everything was in its place.

Where, therefore, in that empty house had the spirit taken the auxiliary force which we are told is necessary for its manifestations?

I was very reserved respecting these facts. I did not care to noise them abroad, for had I done so controversy would certainly have arisen.

Another reason for remaining silent was, that once after having spoken of these events to the member of a reputedly religious family, the Virgin refused to make any evolution before this visitor. But scarcely was the incredulous person out of the house when the statuette was displaced.

The same evening I put Marie to sleep, and reproached the spirit severely.

‘What happens here is for you alone,’ he replied, ‘and ought not to be exhibited as a spectacle.’

However, this apparently severe admonition was soon infringed upon by himself under the following circumstances:—

M. Bossuet, a hairdresser in the Rue Bouffard, at Bordeaux, was dressing Madame Vergniat’s hair in the sitting-room: my wife heard the sharp rap which usually announced a displacement of the Virgin. She got up, and without saying anything went into the room, followed instinctively by M. Bossuet. The Virgin was balancing herself on the edge of the bracket. M. Bossuet, quickly understanding what was happening, cried out in admiration, ‘Mon Dieu! how glad I am to have seen such a thing!’

M. Bossuet is dead now; who can say whether he has found the solution of the problem which engages us?

I took advantage of this incident to ask why the Virgin had moved during M. Bossuet’s visit, since it was told me that these favours were exclusively reserved for the household.

‘I choose my company,’ replied the spirit, ‘and I had to reward M. Bossuet for having patiently reproduced the features of Christ in some hair.’

I do not know if it be true—though many have since assured me it is true—that M. Bossuet was the author of such a work. I confine myself, as a faithful reporter, to recording the reply which was given me.

Our house had one inconvenience—a very disagreeable one in winter—that of obliging the maid to cross the garden in order to open the gate for the milkman, who rang every morning at daybreak.

We were looking for a combination which might enable us to avoid this inconvenience, when our kind protector came to our aid.

This fact is one of the most curious of our long series of surprising adventures.

Henceforth, when the milkman’s cart stopped at the gate and before he rang, a mysterious power shot back the bolt in the lock. Then the gate opened, and the milkman placed on the window-sill the jug of milk, which the domestic took in later on.

Perhaps the milkman thought a special mechanism allowed us to open the door. However that may be, his imagination was evidently at work, for he was heard to say aloud, when getting into his cart, ‘All the same, this is a very queer house.’

Sometimes, after having attended vespers either at Sainte-Croix or at the Vieillards, we used to take a long walk, and often we returned home tired and impatient to sit down and rest a while.

So that we might not have to wait, an invisible hand used to knock at the door before we arrived there.

This fact could not be hidden, and our neighbour, Madame Pardeau, in a good position for observation, laughed at the attentions shown us.

At about this time there was a strange substitution, one which would, henceforth, render the intervention of the somnambulist unnecessary. Madame Vergniat and I were returning home after visiting Talence. On the way, my wife turned round quickly, saying: ‘Some one has just called me: twice I heard a voice say, “Héloïse! Héloïse!”’

From that day forth, Madame Vergniat asked questions mentally and a foreign voice answered them.

Very soon the voice took the initiative of conversations, and absorbing Madame Vergniat’s faculties, spoke through her.

There was no being deceived; it was easy to recognise the same benevolent spirit, which had only changed his dwelling-place, as it were.

The first recommendation given through Madame Vergniat was to cease putting Marie to sleep. ‘Henceforth you will not be able to do so, without incurring much unpleasantness.’

But my keen desire to see and to observe everything was so great, that it got the better of this last advice, and I put the somnambulist to sleep as usual. Ill came of it. To the charitable and benevolent discourses succeeded a dishevelled language, which I thought I could put an end to by awakening the somnambulist; but it was impossible to do so.

She walked about the room with her eyes closed, crying out: ‘I will wake up when it suits me to do so. I am here, and I want to stay just because my staying annoys you.’ Then she tried to go out to walk about in the garden, and I was obliged to lock the door.

This scene, which lasted for several hours, took away my wish for further experimentation with Marie.

From that time, Marie was subjected to several ill-defined influences during her ordinary sleep; she spoke aloud, sometimes she used serious language; sometimes she seemed to be filled with mad joy. The former depth and goodness in advice given through her had disappeared.

Moreover, I was amply compensated by the new situation which rendered the somnambulist’s intervention unnecessary, and I thought no further of risking the disagreeable scene of which I have spoken. I may even say that all magnetic attempts and experiments with Marie ended here. There was no further question of them.

Sometimes the spirit when consulted did not answer. Madame Vergniat would then say, ‘I speak to him, but he does not reply.’ But he never kept us waiting very long.

The spirit often announced his departure. ‘If you have something to ask me, or to tell me,’ he would say, ‘be quick, because I am obliged to go away, and will only be able to return to-morrow at such and such a time.’

And, until the time indicated had arrived, all questioning was useless. There were no replies.

Hundreds of times I had had occasion of verifying the exactness of information furnished by means of Marie; but it remained to me to find out if the information given by the new channel had the same value.

I had not long to wait before attaining certitude in that respect.

It was on a winter’s evening, the night was pitch dark, it was pouring in torrents. Returning home from business, the maid came to tell me that a small Havanese dog, which a neighbour had kindly given us, had gone astray. As I said, the weather was fearful, and we could not think of going out to search for the tiny animal. But, as I appeared to be troubled about the matter, Madame Vergniat, who so far had said nothing, raised her head, and addressing me in the peculiar way which announced an official communication, said, ‘So you were really attached to that little animal! Very well! do not be sad, you will find it again. I see it; a workman is holding it under his jacket in a hairdresser’s establishment in the Rue Bègles (the little hunchback).’

The information was precise; given by the somnambulist, I would not have hesitated believing it; but I now needed further proof; therefore, in spite of the weather, I went out in search of the dog. My quest having led me to the hairdresser’s, I looked timidly in at the window, when the hunchback perceived me, and called out: ‘Do you want something, M. Vergniat?’ I replied, ‘If you should happen to hear that a small Havanese dog has been found, be kind enough to let me know.’

A workman, who was in the shop, said: ‘Five minutes ago I held it in my jacket trying to warm it. I had picked it up sopping wet, in a corner of the street, where I dropped it again.’

Some few steps further off, I observed a white spot in the darkness. It was Fleurette crouching down in the shelter of a doorway.

I returned home triumphantly, carrying the children’s happiness with me, as well as the confirmation of the infallibility of our protector. The influence of this power, which revealed itself as unlimited, will be easily understood. Always gaining fresh ground by new supernatural phenomena, its will entirely superseded ours. What in the beginning it formulated as a desire, soon became an order. It paid attention to the smallest details; designated the necessary provisions for the day and fixed the prices thereof. If a more important purchase than usual had to be made, he indicated the shop and price beforehand.

These facts gave rise to some curious incidents. Thus, for example, when a shopkeeper charged too high a price. ‘Grand Father,’ always at hand, used to whisper to Madame Vergniat, ‘Tell that woman her goods only cost her such and such a price. Offer her so much. That is sufficient profit....’

The shopkeeper, dumfounded, could not deny, and the bargain would be concluded.

I reveal all these facts without hesitation, persuaded that the study of such persistent and varied manifestations may help to lift the mysterious veil surrounding us. Moreover, why should I hesitate or keep silent? Have I not seen? The more incomprehensible the facts may be, the greater the duty to reveal them.

I will, perhaps, be accused of weakness by showing so much submission to this occult power, which, however, only put forth the claim of coming from God, and expressed none but honourable sentiments. To my accusers, I will reply, ‘Go through the same trial, then I will recognise your right to criticise.’

As for weakness, this was never one of my failings, unless I should make an exception for the sentiment, which makes me bow before the Master—a sentiment I mean to preserve.

I said my wife and I went regularly to vespers, sometimes at Talence, sometimes at Sainte-Croix; but more often at the Vieillards.

I remember that once when gazing upon these latter poor creatures, ever at the mercy of public charity, our mysterious guest confided to us: ‘Without my visit, my children, that fate might have been yours.’

In the beginning, I said I had promised to take the communion; I did so with fervour, so profoundly had these mysterious facts impressed me; I carried submission to the extent of giving up theatres, and all amusements, obeying the express desire of the unknown.

To make up for this, I was permitted to join every pilgrimage.

One morning, as I was starting for my office, Madame Vergniat, with an inspired air, dictated the following order to me: ‘You must send a telegram to Paris this morning, bidding the agents to sell out 6000 francs worth of French stock at 3 per cent., and buy in 10,000 francs of Italian stock.’ He added: ‘Did I not tell you, that when it would please me to impose an obligation upon you, it would never be at your own expense? Now, I have need of a few thousand francs, the use of which I will point out to you when the time comes.’

In spite of the strange things I had already seen, I was bewildered. Madame Vergniat, although the wife of a stockbroker, had never interested herself in business affairs, and was absolutely ignorant of financial combinations.

The terms used to dictate the transaction, indicated that the operation was planned by a mind accustomed to this kind of business.

As the advice was not dangerous, and, in case of failure, would not carry me very far, I telegraphed to Paris without hesitating. Before I returned home in the evening, I had the reply, and wished to communicate it to my mysterious client. ‘Useless,’ he said to me, ‘I know it.’

I took advantage of this circumstance of talking business with him, with the object of finding out just how far the spirit’s knowledge, in matters of speculation, went.

‘Do you know,’ I said to him, ‘that your transaction is founded on two liquidations. The Italian stock is in liquidation for the 15th inst., and the 3 per cent. for the end of the month.’

‘I did it purposely. The Italian will be liquidated first, for the profits thereof are urgently required. Whoever procures the French stock for the end of the month is destined to offer a present to his daughter. I will give you a few instructions on this subject.’

I risked the question: ‘You then believe in the rise of the Italian and fall of the French stock?’

‘Your Father is not one who doubts, who believes, or who only hopes; He is always sure, because He is the Master.’

From the day the exchange transaction was made, the two contrary movements, favourable to the arbitration, were not belied; and (an important fact to take note of) every morning, with mathematical precision, the unknown predicted the stock-list which the telegraph only brought at four o’clock in the afternoon.

I wish to insist upon this fact, because some people seem to question the spirits’ possibility of foretelling the future.

Always preoccupied in studying these facts, I sometimes asked, the evening before, what the rate would be the following day. ‘I cannot tell you before to-morrow morning. I have need of the night to gather my information.’

One day, there was a difference of a farthing between the rate predicted in the morning, and the official rate received at four o’clock. When I made the remark, the unknown said to me: ‘It was a bad head who rang down the changes at the stroke of the bell.’ The spirit evidently even possessed the slang of the stockbrokers’ ring.

Seeing so much penetration, I meekly asked if he could be useful to me in my own business. He replied: ‘I did not come for that; my visit has another object in view; nevertheless I think I can be useful to you, and when the opportunity occurs, I will not forget.’

This declaration seemed to contradict the first one. At the outset of these manifestations, the ‘Master’s’ blessing assured the repose of body, soul, and spirit: ‘No more worries for you: your Father is here to turn them all aside.’ There was now a slight deviation which we cannot help observing.

Let us, however, return to this power of penetration; it was such, that, consulted upon the state of my cash-box, he at once told me how much it contained. For him, it was mere child’s play to tell any one the contents of their purse.

During the arbitration process, I sometimes asked him, ‘What profit does your stock operation give you this evening?’ He mentioned it at once, and, without omitting a farthing, he even counted brokerage and the price of telegrams.

‘Your business affairs,’ said he, ‘should no longer trouble you, for they are mine. I will look after them: you have only to obey, and to satisfy me in order to be rewarded.

‘You may be sure that nothing would be easier for me than to load you with riches any day; and, if I make you wait, it is because you made me wait a long time before I was able to bring you to me.’

This is another remark which is not any clearer than the one I quoted a little while ago.

Whilst the arbitration was proceeding favourably, the Virgin continued her evolutions; however, they were soon to cease.

One afternoon she made some evolutions noisier than usual, and going out of the house, went and placed herself upon some grape-vines in the garden.

At that moment, one of our former servants, a girl named Caroline T..., the same who was in our service when the nocturnal visit occurred, happened to come up to the house; seeing the statue in the garden, she and another servant decided to put it back again on its pedestal.

It was scarcely replaced when a violent rap resounded, and the Virgin fell on the ground broken to pieces.

Great was Madame Vergniat’s grief when she heard of the accident. I must own that I, too, was vexed. The debris were gathered up and preserved with veneration for a long time.

But the pedestal remained vacant. Then the thought came to me of asking our protector if it would be possible to find a similar statuette.

‘I will see about it to-night,’ he replied. The spirit often begged me to leave him the night for reflection. He said it was then that he found the necessary information.

The next day, faithful to his promise, he gave me the following information: ‘There is, in Bordeaux, a Virgin like the one which is broken. You will find it at a sculptor’s in the Rue Bouquière (a small shop situated in a corner of the street). There is only that one specimen, and the tradesman has no cast.’

I quickly took one of the fragments, and went to the Rue Bouquière. I found the shop, and the tradesman told me he had a Virgin similar to the one I desired, but that he had no cast of it. ‘I will look for it, and you may come and fetch it this evening.’ The same evening I returned to Malbec with the statuette which was going to stifle all regrets.

My arrival with the statuette was the occasion for another official communication: ‘My son, that Virgin will be displaced. I will not tell you where I shall carry it to; she herself will reveal it to you. Now, as she will go very far away, you must put your name and address inside the statuette.’ This was done.

Placed upon the pedestal, the new Virgin turned round three times the day after her arrival; since that day she never stirred.

I do not know if she will ever go on this journey; in any case, she is a long time making her preparations.

All the incidents touching the statuette end here: the circumstances of the année terrible caused it to pass into other hands.

We said that the stock transaction was going on better and better. And with his facility to foretell the future, the unknown sold out the Italian stock at the highest rate, whilst he waited for several days to buy back his 3 per cent. favourably.

All this was done with astounding precision; with a power equal to his, fortune was simply without bounds.

The profits of these two transactions amounted to about three thousand francs. With the funds resulting from the liquidation of the 15th I was given the mission to reserve one thousand francs for the father of a large family. And the souvenir of this good action, for which, in a way, I was but an agent, rejoices me still.

Other less important distributions were ordered to be made.

Finally, to crown everything, we were told to illuminate our garden in honour of the Virgin.

The profits of the second liquidation followed afterwards, and gave rise to a curious incident.

On pay-day, when the profits were at the disposition of the mysterious spirit, he begged me to return to Bordeaux to buy a piano, which he offered to my daughter. (This was the ‘present’ which had been spoken of in the beginning of these bourse transactions.)

‘Go,’ he said, ‘to M. Caudéré’s, Allées de Tourny, No. 50, where you will buy a second-hand piano; you will be asked six hundred and fifty francs for it.’

Upon making the remark that I needed precise indications in order to avoid all confusion, he replied: ‘It is not necessary. I will be there to see that they offer you the piano I want. You will not be obliged to bargain, for the price is less than the value of the instrument.’

How could I resist the commands of such a kind-hearted friend, whose power seemed to have no other limit than that of his will?

Moreover, was it my province to discuss the manner of employing money which did not belong to me?

Therefore I arrived at Allées de Tourny. Madame Caudéré was alone in the shop. I followed my instructions, and was offered a second-hand piano for six hundred francs. It was fifty francs below the stated price. I hesitated taking it, but, remembering his own words, ‘I will be there,’ I concluded the bargain on the express condition that the instrument might be delivered the same evening, according to our benefactor’s will.

I arrived home quickly, impatient to have an explanation concerning the fifty francs.

It was the first time I had observed an irregularity, and as my submission was only the result of an infallibility which, until then, had never been belied, the absolute and regular continuation of these facts was required in order to keep up that blind confidence which already impaired so seriously my free will.

It was with almost a triumphant air I announced that the piano had only cost six hundred francs.

‘I know it,’ said the unknown; ‘but Madame made a mistake.’

On the morrow, when settling the account, the shopkeeper said to me: ‘You got a bargain yesterday; my wife made a mistake in selling you for six hundred francs a piano I had fixed at six hundred and fifty.’

Absorbed in these supernatural incidents, I did not think of replying. I walked slowly home wrapped in thought. I related to the mysterious being what had happened to me at the piano-shop.

If my mystical preoccupations had made me forget my duty for an instant, he was not long in recalling it to me.

‘I apprised you of it,’ he answered. I understood, and brought back the fifty francs to the tradesman, not caring to benefit by a mistake.

At that time my daughter’s musical knowledge was limited to the ‘Bon Roi Dagobert,’ and yet, when she sat down to the piano, her fingers, yielding to some mysterious influence, moved involuntarily over the piano, and played unknown airs whose accompaniments were in accordance with all the rules of harmony.

Convinced that the child was playing from memory, the pianoforte-tuner complimented her upon her musical dispositions.

This phenomenon was only produced three or four times; it is true, I always took care to take the child away from the piano as soon as I suspected the approach of the influence.

The stock transaction accomplished, other business, patronised and advised by the protector, succeeded as well as the first. The object was always charity. These operations were not important; but for all that, their results increased the importance of the help every day.

The spirit had reserved to himself the right of designating the persons he wished to help. Sometimes he indicated the name, but more often he confined himself to mentioning the street, the number, and flat.

I remember one Sunday, while breakfasting, I was suddenly told to go immediately and visit a family living in a tiny house behind the Rue François-de-Sourdis. It was a long way off, and notwithstanding the indications given me, I went up and down several streets in that quarter of the town in vain, and I returned without having been able to fulfil my mission.

‘You must go back again,’ said the unknown, ‘and before breakfasting; for you yourself can wait; but it is not the same there, where the children are hungry...!’

Every morning, when leaving home to go to my office, I was commissioned to do a good work. ‘In such and such a street, at such and such a number and flat, at the door to the right, etc., lives a widow; you will give her five francs, or ten francs, and so forth....’

In the beginning, fearing to be led astray, these missions made me feel rather uncomfortable, especially when he sent me to places where there was no apparent misery; but he never made a mistake.

To provide for these distributions, and carry out certain religious projects, which he acknowledged to me—such, for example, as the erection of a chapel on the ground of ‘Malbec,’ in order to perpetuate the memory of his visit—to provide, I say, for so much expense, he considerably increased the figure of his operations.

It is true that an affair undertaken by his order always the same evening gave good results. And it was necessary it should be rigorously so, if he wished to maintain the blind confidence he seemed so desirous of preserving.

It was then that he changed his tactics. Instead of taking his profits at each liquidation, he now opposed himself to any realisation whatsoever.

In the face of such a dangerous system, I timidly risked some remarks:—

‘No one could guide me better than you do, and I would be already too rich if, as before, you took advantage of every fluctuation of the market, instead of opposing yourself to the realisation of the profits. It is true there is a large margin on your purchases, but our prosperity is only artificial, since it is but the result of recharges and not of liquidated operations. That is to say, by this system we are constantly laying ourselves open to emergencies.’

It was also under this mysterious inspiration that I then took an engagement to buy out the interest of my sleeping partners.

Always under the same guidance, our business affairs rapidly created an opulent position for me. The upward movement of stocks continued, and if at times a slight reaction arose, it could only touch a small part of the profits already acquired, and constantly carried over.

The dangerous system of non-realisation, we see, had not been abandoned.

I often complained.

It was thus that on the 1st January 1870 (a Sunday, I think), the Coulisse having quoted on the boulevards 75·05 francs, and this rate assuring us a profit of 30,000 francs on one affair alone, I implored him to consent to realising. He refused energetically, saying, ‘Money-jobbing does not suit me, I have put you in a position which will be your last affair.’ Moreover, he affected a great dislike to my profession, saying he desired to see me leave it as speedily as possible.

Sometimes the spirit dropped certain exclamations, aside, as it were, the most frequent of which was, ‘What a struggle!’

I paid no attention to this, and it was only after the tragic dénouement of this affair that the souvenir of these exclamations, although so frequently repeated, came back to my memory.

The circumstances which follow sadly demonstrate that during two and a half years the aim, so patiently followed, was simply to bribe my confidence with strange revelations, and to keep me under his thumb.

This result obtained, he had only to use influence in order to keep me in a position whose importance could not help being fatal, in view of coming events, and which the unknown’s power of penetration permitted him to foresee.

It was in the midst of all this, in a way, borrowed prosperity, since it only resulted from non-realised operations, that I took possession of my new residence, Rue d’Enghien, No. 11.

For several months, although it was impossible for stock to rise above seventy-five francs, faithful to his system, the unknown refused to sell out.

It was therefore necessary to continue. But could I complain if funds remained stationary? The profits entered into cash as a consequence of the rise of stocks, which seemed a sufficient guarantee against any event whatsoever.

Moreover, it seemed to me mean to reproach him with not giving me more, when I owed him already such unhoped-for prosperity.

My tranquillity was, therefore, absolute when complications with Germany broke out. Then, from the first day, I wished to liquidate.

‘There, are your fears beginning again as at the time of the Luxembourg incident? Believe him who is the Master, and who for nearly three years has never deceived you.’

Notwithstanding his affirmations, two days afterwards war was decided, and in taking possession of the telegraph lines, the light-hearted minister put the finishing-stroke to my ruin, for it placed me in the impossibility of communicating, and therefore of limiting my loss.

Whatever may be the danger of a struggle, we succumb with less regret when we have fought on equal terms; but here, without speaking of the strange circumstances, the suppression of telegraphic communication placed me in the position of a man bound hand and foot, who is thrown into the sea and reproached for not swimming.

In this critical moment, the unknown was absolutely dumb. He answered none of the questions I asked him. And yet the situation was most critical; for twenty years of labour disappeared into the gulf, and, moreover, to this material loss was added the grief of being forced to remain separated from my daughter, who was dangerously ill.

A last explanation took place: ‘There, then,’ I said to him, ‘here is what you have brought me to, and I do not know who you are; I only know that you have appealed to honourable sentiments, in order to make me your dupe, and that you have not hesitated using the name of God when laying your snares.’

I was too irritated to heed his reply; and I have only a vague souvenir of the word ‘trials’ faltered out in answer to my upbraidings.

Thus ends this long and sad ‘story.’

I have given this curious self-observation in extenso. The personification is liable to errors which may be dangerous if we abandon ourselves to its direction, as too many people are tempted to do.

The extraordinary facts with which Madame Vergniat’s life was filled are not confined to those just related; she appears to have possessed supernormal faculties right up to the last. It might be of considerable interest if her family would give a detailed account of her life.

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty
at the Edinburgh University Press

Transcriber’s note

A few missing page numbers were added to the table of Contents, but other omissions and inconsistencies were preserved.

Some missing punctuation has been corrected, also the following changes were made, on page
24 under point 6 “a” changed to “d” ((d) Lastly, the most complete)
64 “IV.” added (IV. THE PERSONIFICATION)
95 “is” changed to “are” (Phenomena are often forthcoming)
368 “Phenomenon” changed to “Phenomena” (Phenomena of the same kind).

Otherwise the original was preserved, including inconsistent spelling and hyphenation and possible errors in languages other than English. Additional: Mallbranche, on page [429], should probably be Malebranche.