VISIONS.
Concipiendis visionibus quas phantasias vocant.
Quintilian.
Visions, that is, the perception of apparently tangible objects in the outer world, which only exist in our imagination, have been known from time immemorial among all nations on earth. They are, in themselves, perfectly natural, and can frequently be traced back without difficulty to bodily affections or a disordered state of the mind, so that many eminent physicians dispose of them curtly as mere incidental symptoms of congestion or neuralgia. They may present real men and things, known beforehand, and now reproduced in such a manner as to appear objectively; or they may be ideal forms, the product of the moment, and incompatible with the laws of actual life. Persons who have visions and know nothing of their true nature, are apt to become intensely excited, as if they had been transferred into another world. The images they behold seem to them of supernatural origin, and may inspire them with lofty thoughts and noble impulses, but only too frequently they disturb their peace of mind and lead them to crime or despair.
When visions extend to other senses besides sight, and the peculiar state of mind by which they are caused affects different parts of the body at once, they are called hallucinations; most frequent among insane people, of whom, according to Esquirol, eighty in a hundred are thus affected, they are generally quite insignificant; while visions through the eye, are often accompanied by very remarkable magic phenomena. Thus the visions which great men like Cromwell and Descartes, Byron or Goethe, record of their own experience, were evidently signs of the great energy of their mental life, while in others they are as clearly symptoms of disease. Ascribed by the ancients to divine influence, Christianity has invariably denounced them—when not indubitably inspired by God, as in the case of the martyr Stephen and the apostle St. John—as works of the Devil. At all times they have been communicated to others, either by contagion or, in rare cases, by the imposition of hands, as they have been artificially produced. Thus extreme bodily fatigue and utter prostration after long illness are apt to cause hallucinations. Albert Smith, for instance, while ascending Mont Blanc, and feeling utterly exhausted, saw all his surroundings clearly with his eyes, and yet, at the same time, beheld marvelous things with the so-called inner sense. A Swiss who, in 1848, during a severe cold, crossed from Wallis to Kandersteg by the famous Gemmi Pass, eight thousand feet high, saw on his way a number of men shoveling the snow from his path, fellow-travelers climbing up on all sides, and rolling masses of snow which changed into dogs; he heard the blows of axes and the laughing and singing of distant shepherds, while his road was utterly deserted, and not a human soul within many miles. His hands and feet were found frozen when he arrived at last at his quarters for the night, and ten days later he died from the effects of his exposure. During the retreat of the French from Russia the poor sufferers, frozen and famished, were continually tormented by similar hallucinations, which increased their sufferings at times to such a degree as to lead them to commit suicide. Another frequent cause of visions is long-continued fasting combined with more or less ascetic devotion. This is said to explain why the prophets of the Old Testament were so vigorously forbidden to indulge in wine or rich fare. Thus Aaron was told: "Do not drink wine nor strong drink, thou nor thy sons with thee, when ye go into the tabernacle" (Levit. x. 9); Moses remained forty days, and "neither did eat bread nor drink wine," when he was on Mount Sinai (Deuter. ix. 9); the Nazarites were ordered not to "drink any liquor of grapes, nor to eat moist grapes or dried," and even to abstain from vinegar (Numbers vi. 3), and Daniel and his companions had nothing but "pulse to eat and water to drink" (Dan. i. 12), in order to prepare them for receiving "wisdom and knowledge and the understanding of dreams and visions."
Narcotics also, and, in our day, most of the anæsthetics can produce visions and hallucinations, but the result is in all such cases much less interesting than when they are produced spontaneously. Tobacco and opium, betel, hasheesh, and coca are the principal means employed; but Siberia has besides its narcotic mushrooms, Polynesia its ava, New Granada and the Himalaya the thorn-apple, Florida its emetic apalachine, and the northern regions of America and Europe have their ledum. The most effective among these narcotics seems to be the Indian hemp, since the visions it produces surpass even the marvelous effects of opium, as has been recently again most graphically described by Bayard Taylor. Laughing-gas, also, has frequently similar effects, and affords, besides, the precious privilege of freedom from the painful, often excruciating consequences of other narcotics. When perfumes are employed for the express purpose of producing visions, it is difficult to ascertain how much is due to their influence, and how much to the over-excited mind of the seer. Benvenuto Cellini describes—though probably not in the most trustworthy manner—the amazing effect produced upon himself and a boy by his side, by the perfumes which a priest burnt in the Coliseum. The whole vast building seemed to him filled with demons, and the boy saw thousands of threatening men, four huge giants, and fire bursting out in countless places. The great artist was told, at the same time, that a great danger was threatening him, and that he would surely lose his beloved Angelica within the month; both events occurred as predicted, and thus proved that in this case at least magic phenomena had accompanied the visions. (Goethe, B. Cellini, l. iv. ch. 2.)
Among other external causes which are apt to produce visions, must be mentioned violent motions, especially when they are revolving, as is the case with the Shamans of the Laplanders and the dancing Dervishes of the East; self-inflicted wounds, such as the priests of Baal caused in order to excite their power of divination, and long-continued imprisonment, as illustrated in the well-known cases of Benvenuto Cellini and Silvio Pellico. The latter was constantly tormented by sighs or suppressed laughter which he heard in his dungeon; then by invisible hands pulling at his dress, knocking down his books or trying to put out his light, till he began seriously to suspect that he might be the victim of invisible malignant powers. Fortunately all these phenomena disappeared at break of day, and thus his vigorous mind, supported by true piety, was enabled to keep his judgment uninjured.
Diseases of every kind are a fruitful source of visions and some are rarely without them; but the character of visions differs according to the nature of the affections. Persons who suffer with the liver have melancholy, consumptive patients have cheerful visions. Epileptics often see fearful spectres during their paroxysms, and persons bitten by mad dogs see the animal that has caused their sufferings. The case of the bookseller Nicolai in Berlin is well known; the disease of which he suffered, is not only very common in some parts of Russia, but productive of precisely the same symptoms. The patients experience first a sensation of great despondency, followed by a period of profound melancholy, during which they see themselves surrounded by a number of persons, with whom they converse and quarrel, half conscious of their own delusion and yet not able to master it wholly. They are generally bled, whereupon the images become transparent and shrink into smaller and smaller space, till they finally disappear entirely. Affections of the heart and the subsequent unequal distribution of the blood through the system are apt to produce peculiar sounds, which at times fashion themselves into loud and harmonious pieces. The excitement usually attendant upon specially fatal plagues and contagious diseases increases the tendency which the latter naturally have to cause hallucinations. During a plague in the reign of Justinian, men were seen walking through the crowd and touching here and there a person; the latter were at once attacked by the disease and invariably succumbed. Upon another such occasion marks and spots appeared on the clothing of those who had caught the contagion, as if made by invisible hands, the sufferers began next to see a number of spectres and died in a short time. The same symptoms have accompanied the cholera in modern times, and more than once strange, utterly unknown persons were not only seen but heard, as they were conversing with others; what they said was written down in many cases, and proved to be predictions of approaching visits of the dread disease to neighboring houses. A magic power of foresight seems in these cases to be developed by the extreme excitement or deep anxiety, but the unconscious clairvoyance assumes the form of persons outside of their own mental sphere, within which they alone existed.
By far the most frequent causes of visions are, however, those of psychical nature, like fixed ideas, intense passions, or deep-rooted prejudices, and concealed misdeeds. When they are produced by such causes they have often the appearance of having led to the commission of great crimes. Thus Julian the Apostate, who had caused the image of his guardian angel to be put upon all his coins and banners, naturally had this form deeply impressed upon his mind. In the night before a decisive battle, he saw, according to Ammianus Marcellinus, this protecting genius in the act of turning away from him, and this vision made so deep an impression upon his mind that he interpreted it as an omen of his impending death. On the following day he fell in battle. The fearful penalty inflicted upon Charles IX. by his own conscience is well known; after the massacre of St. Bartholomew he saw, by day and by night, the forms of his victims around him, till death made an end to his sufferings. On our own continent, one of the early conquerors gave a striking instance of the manner in which such visions are produced. He was one of the adventurers who had reached Darien, and was on the point of plundering a temple; but, a few days before, an Indian woman had told him that the treasures it held were guarded by evil spirits, and if he entered it the earth would open and swallow up the temple and the conquerors alike. Nothing daunted, he led his men to the attack; but, as they came in sight, he suddenly saw, in the evening light, how the colossal building rocked to and fro as in a tempest, and thoroughly intimidated he rode away with his followers, leaving the temple and its treasures unharmed. That visions are apt to precede atrocious crimes is quite natural, since they are in such cases nothing but the product of the intense excitement under which murders are often committed; but, it would be absurd to look upon them as motive causes. Ravaillac had constant visions of angels, saints, and demons, while preparing his mind for the assassination of Henry IV., and the young student who attempted the murder of Napoleon at Schönbrunn repeatedly saw the genius of Germany, which appeared to him and encouraged him to free his country from the usurper. Persons who attempt to summon ghosts are very apt to see them, because their mind is highly wrought up by their proceedings and they confidently expect to have visions. But some men possess a similar power without making any special effort or peculiar preparations, their firm volition sufficing for the purpose. Thus Talma could at all times force himself to see, in the place of the actual audience before whom he was acting, an assembly of skeletons, and he is said never to have acted better than when he gave himself up to this hallucination. Painters, also, frequently have the power to summon before their mind's eye the features of those whose portrait they are painting; Blake, for instance, was able actually to finish likenesses from images he saw sitting in the chair where the real persons had been seated.
While visions are quite common, delusions of the other senses are less frequent. The insane alone hear strange conversations. Hallucinations of the taste cause patients to enjoy delightful dishes, or to partake of spoiled meat and other unpalatable viands, which have no existence. Sweet smells and incense are often perceived, bad odors much less frequently. The touch is of all senses the least likely to be deceived; still deranged people occasionally feel a slight touch as a severe blow, and persons suffering from certain diseases are convinced that ants, spiders, or other insects are running over their bodies.
The favorite season of visions is night—mainly the hour about midnight—and in the whole year, the time of Advent, but also the nights from Christmas to New Year. This is, of course, not a feature of supernatural life, but the simple effect of the greater quiet and the more thoughtful, inward life, which these seasons are apt to bring to busy men. The reality of our surroundings disappears with the setting sun, and in deep night we are rendered almost wholly independent of the influence exercised in the day by friends, family, and even furniture. All standards of measurement, moreover, disappear, and we lose the correct estimate of both space and time. Turning our thoughts at such times with greater energy and perseverance inward, our imagination has free scope, and countless images appear before our mind's eye which are not subject to the laws of real life. Darkness, stillness, and solitude, the three great features of midnight seasons, all favor the full activity of our fancy, and set criticism at defiance by denying us all means of comparison with real sounds or sights. At the same time, it is asserted, that under such circumstances men are also better qualified to perceive manifestations which, during the turba of daily life, are carelessly ignored or really imperceptible to the common senses. So long as the intercourse with the world and its exigencies occupy all our thoughts, and self-interest makes us look fixedly only at some one great purpose of life, we are deaf and blind to all that does not clearly belong to this world. But when these demands are no longer made upon us, and especially when, as in the time of Advent, our thoughts are somewhat drawn from earthly natures, and our eyes are lifted heavenward, then we are enabled to give free scope to our instincts, or, if we prefer the real name, to the additional sense by which we perceive intangible things. A comparison has often been drawn between the ability to see visions and our power to distinguish the stars. In the day, the brilliancy of the sun so far outshines the latter, that we see not a single one; at night they step forth, as it were, from the dark, and the deeper the blackness of the sky, the greater their own brightness. Are they, on that account, nothing more than creatures of our imagination, set free by night and darkness?
As for the favorite places where visions most frequently are seen, it seems that solitudes have already in ancient times always been looked upon as special resorts for evil spirits. The deserts of Asia, with their deep gullies and numerous caves, suggested a population of shy and weird beings, whom few saw and no one knew fully. Hence the fearful description of Babylon in her overthrow, when "Their houses shall be full of doleful creatures, and owls shall dwell there and satyrs shall dance there." (Isaiah xiii. 21). The New Testament speaks in like manner of the deserts of Palestine as the abode of evil spirits, and in later days the Faroe Islands were constantly referred to as peopled with weird and unearthly beings. The deserts of Africa are full of Djinns, and the vast plains of the East are peopled with weird apparitions. The solitudes of Norwegian mountain districts abound with gnomes and sprites, and waste places everywhere are no sooner abandoned by men than they are occupied by evil spirits and become the scenes of wild and gruesome visions.
Well-authenticated cases of visions are recorded in unbroken succession from the times of antiquity to our own day, and leave no doubt on the mind that they are not only of common occurrence among men, but generally, also, accompanied by magic phenomena of great importance. The ancients saw, of course, most frequently their gods; the pagans, who had been converted to Christianity, their former idols threatening them with dire punishment; and Christians, their saints and martyrs, their angels and demons. Thus all parties are supported by authorities in no way peculiar to one faith or another, but common to all humanity; and the battle is fought, for a time at least, between faith and faith, and between vision and vision. A famous rhetor, Aristides, who is mentioned in history as one of the mightiest champions polytheism ever has been able to raise against triumphant Christianity, saw, in his hours of exaltation, the great Æsculapius, who gave him directions how to carry on his warfare. At such times his public addresses became so attractive that thousands of enthusiastic hearers assembled to hang upon his lips. The story of the genius of Socrates is well known; Aulus Gellius tells us how the great sage was seen standing motionless for twenty-four hours in the same place, before joining the expedition to Potidea, so absorbed in deep thought that it seemed as if his soul had left the body. Dion, Plato's most intimate friend, saw a huge Fury enter his house and sweep it with a broom; a conspiracy broke out, and he was murdered, after having lost his only son a few days before. (Plutarch's "Life of Dion," 55.) The same Simonides, who according to Valerius Maximus (De Somniis, l. i. ch. 5), had escaped from shipwreck by the timely warning of a spirit, was once dining at the magnificent house of Skopas at Cranon, in Thessaly, when a servant entered to inform him that two gigantic youths were standing at the door and wished to see him immediately. He went out and found no one there; but, at the same moment, the roof and the walls of the dining-room fell down, burying all the guests under the ruins (Phædrus' Fab., iv. 24). The ancients looked upon the vision, in both cases, as merely effects of the prophetic power of the poet, which saved him from immediate death; once in the form of a spirit and the second time in the form of the Dioscuri. For, as Simonides had shortly before written a beautiful poem in honor of Castor and Pollux, his escape and the friendly warning were naturally attributed to the heroic youths, who constantly appear in history as protective genii. In Greece they were known to have fought, dressed in their purple cloaks and seated on snow-white horses, on the side of the Locri, and to have announced their victory on the same day in Olympia, and Sparta, in Corinth, and in Athens (Justin, ix. 3). In Rome they were credited with the victory on the banks of Lake Regillus, and reported to have, as in Greece, dashed into the city, far ahead of all messengers, to proclaim the joyful news. During the Macedonian war they met Publius Vatinius on his way to Rome and informed him that, on the preceding day, Æmilius Paulus had captured Perseus. Delighted with the news, the prefect hastens to the Senate; but is discredited and actually sent to jail on the charge of indulging in idle gossip, unworthy of his high office. It was only when at last messengers came from the distant army and confirmed the report of Perseus' captivity, that the unlucky prefect was set free again and honored with high rewards.
In other cases the warning genius was seen in visions of different nature. Thus Hannibal was reported to have traced in his sleep the whole course and the success of all his plans, by the aid of his genius, who appeared to him in the shape of a child of marvelous beauty, sent by the great Jupiter himself to direct his movements, and to make him master of Italy. The child asked him to follow without turning to look back, but Hannibal, yielding to the innate tendency to covet forbidden fruit, looked behind him and saw an immense serpent overthrowing all impediments in his way. Then came a violent thunderstorm with fierce lightnings, which rent the strongest walls. Hannibal asked the meaning of these portents, and was told that the storm signified the total subjection of Italy, but that he must be silent and leave the rest to fate. That the vision was not fully realized, was naturally ascribed to his indiscretion. The genius of the two Consuls, P. Decius and Manlius Torquatus, assumed, on the contrary, the shape of a huge phantom which appeared at night in their camp at the foot of Vesuvius, and announced the decision that one leader must fall in order to make the army victorious. Upon the strength of this vision the two generals decided that he whose troops should first show signs of yielding, should seek death by advancing alone against the Latin army. The legions of Decius, therefore, no sooner began to fall back, than he threw himself, sword in hand, upon the enemy, and not only died a glorious death for his country, but secured a brilliant victory to his brethren.
At a later period a genius saved the life of Octavian, when he and Antony were encamped at Philippi, on the eve of the great battle against Brutus and Cassius. The vision appeared not to himself, however, but to another person, his own physician, Artorus, who, in a dream, was ordered to advise his master to appear on the battle-field in spite of his serious indisposition. Octavian followed the advice and went out, though he had to be carried by his men in a litter; during his absence the soldiers of Brutus entered the camp and actually searched his tent, in which he would have perished inevitably without the timely warning. Of a very different nature was the vision of Cassius, the lieutenant of Antony, who, during his flight to Athens, saw at night a huge black phantom, which informed him that he was his evil spirit. In his terror he called his servants and inquired what they had seen, but they had noticed nothing. Thus tranquilized, he fell asleep again, but the phantom returned once more, and disturbed his mind so painfully that he remained awake the rest of the night, surrounded by his guards and slaves. The vision was afterwards interpreted as an omen of his impending violent death.
The Emperor Trajan was saved from death during a fearful earthquake by a man of colossal proportions, who came to lead him out of his palace at Antioch; and Attila, who, to the surprise of the world, spared Rome and Italy at the request of Pope Leo the Great, mentioned as the true motive of his action the appearance of a majestic old man in priestly garments, who had threatened him, drawing his sword, with instant death if he did not grant all that the Roman high-priest should demand.
In other cases, which are as numerous as they are striking, the genius assumes the shape of a woman. Thus Dio Cassius ("Hist. Rome," l. lv.), as well as Suetonius ("Claudius," l. i), relate that when Drusus had ravaged Germany, and was on the point of crossing the Elbe, the formidable shape of a gigantic woman appeared to him, who waded up to the middle of the stream and then called out: "Whither, O Drusus? Canst thou put no limit to thy thirst of conquest? Back! the end of thy deeds and of thy life is at hand!" History records that Drusus fell back without apparent reason, and that he died before he reached the banks of the Rhine. Tacitus tells us, in like manner, a vision which encouraged Curtius Rufus at the time when he, a gladiator's son, and holding a most humble position, was accompanying a quæstor on his way to Africa. As he walked up and down a passage in deep meditation, a woman of unusual size appeared to him and said: "Thou, O Rufus, shalt be proconsul of this province!" The young man, perhaps encouraged and supported by a vision which was the result of his own ambitious dreams, rose rapidly by his eminent ability, and after he had reached the consulate, really obtained the province of Africa (Ann., xi. 21). The younger Pliny, who tells the same story in his admirable letter to Sura on the subject of magic, adds that the genius appeared a second time to the great proconsul, but remained silent. The latter saw in this silence a warning of approaching death, and prepared for his end, which did not fail soon to close his career.
It is very striking to see how in these visions also the inner life of man was invariably clearly and distinctly reflected. The ambitious youth saw his good fortune personified in the shape of a beautiful woman, which his excited imagination called Africa, and which he hoped some time or other to call his own. Brutus, on the contrary, full of anticipations of evil, and suffering, and perhaps unconsciously, bitter remorse on account of Cæsar's murder, saw his sad fate as a hideous demon. The army, also, sharing, no doubt, their leader's dark apprehensions, looked upon the black Æthiopian who entered the camp as an evil omen. The appointed meeting at Philippi was merely an evidence of the superior ability of Brutus, who foresaw the probable course of the war and knew the great strategic importance of the famous town.
In the same manner a tradition was long cherished in Augsburg of a fanatic heroine on horseback, who appeared to Attila when he attempted to cross the river Lech on his way from Italy to Pannonia. She called out to him: "Back!" and made a deep impression upon his mind. The picture of the giant woman was long preserved in a Minorite convent in the city, and was evidently German in features and in costume. It is by no means impossible that the lofty but superstitious mind of the ruthless conqueror, after having long busied itself with his approaching attack upon a mighty, unknown nation, personified to himself in a momentary trance the genius of that race in the shape of a majestic woman.
This was all the more probable as Holy Writ also presents to us a whole series of mighty women who exercised at times a lasting influence on the fate of the chosen people, and the world's history abounds with similar instances. There was Deborah, "a prophetess who judged Israel at that time," and went to aid in the defeat of Sisera, and there was Huldah, the prophetess, who warned Josiah, king of Judah. We have the same grand images in Greek and in Roman history, and German annals mention more than one Jettha and Velleda. The series of warnings given by the more tender-hearted sex runs through the annals of modern races from the oldest times to our own day. One of the latest instances happened to a king well known for his sneering skepticism and his utter disbelief of all higher powers. This was Bernadotte, who forsook his benefactor in order to mount the throne of Sweden, and turned his own sword against his former master. Long years after the fall of Napoleon, he was on the point of sending his son Oscar with an army against Norway, and met with much opposition in the Council of State. Full of impatience and indignation, he mounted his horse and rode out to cool his heated mind; as he approached a dark forest near Stockholm, he saw an old woman sitting by the wayside, whose quaint costume and wild, disheveled hair attracted his attention. He asked her roughly what she was doing there? Her reply was: "If Oscar goes into the war which you propose, he will not strike but receive the first blow." The king was impressed by the warning and returned, full of thoughts, to his palace; after a sleepless night he informed the Council of State that he had changed his views, and would not send the prince to Norway (La Presse, May 4, 1844). Even if we accept the interview with the woman as a mere vision, the effect of the king's long and anxious preoccupation with an important plan upon the success of which the security of his throne and the continuation of his dynasty might depend, the question still remains, why a man of his tastes and haughty skepticism should have clothed his doubts in words uttered by an old woman, dressed in fancy costume?
The number of practical, sensible men who have, even in recent times, believed themselves under the special care and protection of a genius or guardian angel, is much larger than is commonly known. The ancients looked upon a genius as a part of their mythology; and modern Christians, who cherish this belief, refer to the fact that the Saviour said of little children: "In heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father" (Matt. xviii. 10). These visions—for so they must be called—vary greatly in different persons. To some men they appear only when great dangers are threatening or sublime efforts have to be made; while in others, they assume, by their frequency, a more or less permanent form, and may even be inherited, becoming tutelary deities of certain houses, familiar spirits, or specially appointed guardian angels of the members of a family or single individuals. Hence, the well-known accounts of the genius of Socrates and the familiar spirits of the Bible, in ancient times. Hence, also, the almost uninterrupted line of similar accounts through the Middle Ages down to our own day. Thus, Campanella stated that whenever he was threatened with misfortune, he fell into a state half way between waking and sleeping, in which he heard a voice say: "Campanella! Campanella!" and several other words, without ever seeing a person. Calignan, Chancelor of Navarre, heard in Béarn, his name called three times, and then received a warning from the same voice to leave the town promptly, as the plague was to rage there fearfully. He obeyed the order, and escaped the ravages of the terrible disease (Beaumont, "Tractat.," etc., p. 208). The Jesuit Giovanni Carrera had a protecting genius, whom he frequently consulted in cases of special difficulty. He became so familiar with him, that he had himself waked every night for his prayers, but when at times he hesitated to rise at once, the spirit abandoned him for a time, and Carrera could only induce him to come back by long-continued praying and fasting ("Hist. S. J.," iii. p. 177).
The Bernadottes had a tradition that one of their ancestors had married a fairy, who remained the good genius of the family, and long since had predicted that one of that blood would mount a throne. The Bernadotte who became a king never forgot the prophecy, and was largely influenced by it, when the Swedish nobles offered him the throne. It is well known that Napoleon himself either believed, or affected to believe, in a good genius, who guided his steps and protected him from danger. He appeared, according to his own statements, sometimes in the shape of a ball of fire, which he called his "star," or as a man dressed in red, who paid him occasional visits. General Rapp relates that, in the year 1806, he once found the Emperor in his room, apparently absorbed in such deep meditation that he did not notice his entrance, but that, when fairly aroused, he seized Rapp by the arm and asked him if saw that star? When the latter replied that he saw nothing, Napoleon continued: "It is my star; it is standing just above you. It has never forsaken me; I see it on all important occasions; it orders me to go on, and has always been a token of success." The story, coming from General Rapp himself, is quoted here as endorsed by the great historian, Amédée Thierry.
Des Mousseaux reports the following facts upon the evidence of trustworthy personal friends. (La Magie, etc., p. 366.) A Mme. N., the daughter of a general, was constantly visited by her mother, who had died long ago, and received from her frequent information of secret things, which procured for herself the reputation of being a prophetess. At one time her mother's spirit warned her to try and prevent her husband, who would die by suicide, from carrying out his purpose. Every precaution was taken, and even the knives and forks were removed after meals; but it so happened that a soldier of the National Guard came into the house and left his loaded gun in an anteroom. The lady's husband unfortunately chanced to see it, took it and blew his brains out on the spot.
A peculiarly interesting class of visions are those to which great artists have, at times, owed their greatest triumphs. Here, also, the line between mere delusion and real magic phenomena is often so faint as to escape attention. For artists must needs cultivate their imagination at the expense of other faculties, and naturally live more in an ideal world than in a real world. Preoccupied as they are, by the nature of their pursuits, with images of more than earthly beauty, they come easily to form ideals in their minds, which they endeavor to fix first upon their memory, and then upon canvas or in marble, on paper or in rapturous words. Raphael Sanzio had long in vain tried to portray the Holy Virgin according to a vague ideal in his mind; at last he awoke one night and saw in the place where his sketch was hanging a bright light, and in the radiance the Mother of Christ in matchless beauty, and with supernatural holiness in her features. The vision remained deeply impressed upon his mind, and was ever after the original of which even his best Madonnas could only be imperfect copies. Benvenuto Cellini, when sick unto death, repeatedly saw an old man trying to pull him down into his boat, but as soon as his faithful servant came and touched him, the hideous vision disappeared. The artist had evidently a picture of Charon and his Acherontic boat in his mind, which was thus reproduced in his feverish dreams. On another occasion, when he had long been in prison, and in despair contemplated suicide, an "unknown being" suddenly seized him and hurled him back to a distance of four yards, where he remained lying for hours half dead. In the following night a "fair youth" appeared to him and made him bitter reproaches on account of his sinful purpose. The same youthful genius appeared to him repeatedly when a great crisis approached in his marvelously adventurous life, and more than once revealed to him the mysteries of the future. (Goethe's "Benv. Cell." i. p. 375.) Poor Tasso had fearful hallucinations during the time when his mind was disordered, but above them all hovered, as it were, the vision of a glorious Virgin surrounded by a bright light, which always comforted and probably alone saved him from self-destruction. Like Raphael, Dannecker also had long tried in vain to find perfect expression for his ideal of a Christ on the Cross; one night, however, he also saw the Saviour in a dream, and at once proceeded to form his model, from which was afterwards copied the well-known statue of transcendent beauty and power.
Paganini used to tell with an amusing air of assumed awe and reverence, that his mother had seen, a few days before his birth, an angel with two wings and of such dazzling splendor that she could not bear to look at the apparition. The heavenly messenger invited her to express a wish, and promised that it should be fulfilled. Thereupon she begged him on her knees to make her Nicolo a great violinist, and was told that it should be so. The vision—perhaps nothing more than a vivid form of earnest desire and fervent prayer—had, no doubt, a serious influence on the great artist, who was himself strangely susceptible to such impressions. (Moniteur, Sept. 30, 1860.)
Nothing can here be said, according to the purpose of these sketches, of the long series of visions vouchsafed to martyrs and saints; their history belongs to theology. But holy men have, independent of their religious convictions, often been as famous for their visions as for the piety of their hearts, and their achievements in the world. Loyola, for instance, with his faculties perpetually strained to the utmost, and with his thoughts bent forever upon a grand and holy aim, could not well fail to rise to a state of psychic excitement which naturally produced impressive visions. Hence he continually saw strange sights and heard mysterious voices, the effect now of extreme despondency and now of restored confidence in God and in himself as the agent of the Most High. And yet these visions never interfered with the clearness of his judgment nor with his promptness and energy in acting. Luther, also, one of the most practical men ever called upon to act and to lead in a great crisis, had visions; he saw the Devil and held loud discussions with him; he suffered by his persecutions, and made great efforts to rid himself of his unwelcome guest, while engaged in his great work, the translation of the Bible. For he was, after all—and for very great and good purposes—only a man of his age, imbued with the universal belief in the personal existence and constant presence of Satan, and felt, at the same time, that he was engaged in a warfare upon the results of which depended not only the earthly welfare, but the eternal salvation of millions.
It is difficult to say whether Mohammed, who had undoubtedly visions innumerable, received any aid from his hallucinations in devising his new faith. Men of science tell us that he suffered of Hysteria muscularis, a disease not uncommon in men as well as in women, which produces periodical paroxysms and is characterized by an alternate contraction and expansion of the muscles. When the attack came the prophet's lips and tongue would begin to vibrate, his eyes turned up, and the head moved automatically. If the paroxysms were very violent he fell to the ground, his face turned purple, and he breathed with difficulty. As he frequently retained his consciousness he pretended that these symptoms were caused by angels' visits, and each attack was followed by a new revelation. The disease was the result of his early lawless life and of the freedom which he claimed, even in later years—pleading a special dispensation from on high as a divinely inspired prophet. It is not to be wondered at that the new religion, springing from such a source, and proclaimed amid the mountains and steppes of Arabia, which, according to popular belief, are all alive with djinns and demons, should be largely based upon visions and hallucinations.
The important part which visions hold in the history of the various religions of the earth lies beyond our present purpose; we know, however, that the records of ancient temples, of prophets, saints, and martyrs, and of later convents and churches, abound with instances of such so-called revelations from on high. They have more than once served at critical times to excite individuals and whole nations to make sublime efforts. One of the best known cases of the former class is that of Constantine the Great, who told Eusebius of Cæsarea, affirming his statement with a solemn oath, that he saw in 312, shortly before the decisive battle at Rome against his formidable adversary Magentius, a bright cross in the heavens, surrounded by the words: In hoc signo vinces. But this vision stood by no means alone. He himself beheld, besides, in a dream during the following night, the Saviour, who ordered him to use in battle henceforth a banner like that which he had seen in his vision. Nazarius, a pagan, also speaks of a number of marvelous signs in the heavens seen in Gaul immediately before the emperor's great victory. Nor can it be doubted that this vision not only inspired Constantine with new hopes and new courage, enabling him to secure his triumph, but also induced him, after his success, to avow himself openly a convert to the faith of Christ.
The visions of that eminent man Swedenborg are too well known to require here more than a mere allusion. Beginning his intercourse with the supernatural world at the ripe age of forty-five, he soon gave himself up to it systematically, and felt compelled to make his daily conversations, as well as the revelations he received from time to time, duly known to the public. Thus he wrote with an evident air of firm conviction: "I had recently a conference with the Apostle Paul;" and at another time he assured a Würtemberg prelate, "I have conferred with St. Paul for a whole year, especially about the words in Romans iii. 28. Three times I have conversed with St. John, once with Moses, and a hundred times with Luther, when the latter confessed that he had taught fidem solam contrary to the warning of an angel, and that he had stood alone when renouncing the pope. With angels, finally, I have held constant intercourse for the last twenty years, and still hold daily conversations."
Classic as well as Christian art, is indebted to visions for more than one signal success. On the other hand, they have as frequently been made to serve vile purposes, mainly by feeding superstition and supporting religious tyranny. We need only recall the terrible calamity caused by a wretched shepherd boy in France, who, in 1213, saw, or pretended to see, heavenly visions, ordering him to enlist his comrades, and with their aid, to rescue the Holy Land from the possession of infidels. Thousands of little children were seized by the contagious excitement, and leaving their home and their kindred, followed their youthful leader, unchecked by the authorities, because of the interpretation applied to the words of Jesus: "Suffer little children to come unto Me!" Not one of them ever reached Palestine, as all perished long before they had reached even Southern France.
It is not exactly a magic phenomenon, but certainly a most startling feature in visions, that the minds of many men should be able, by their own volition, to create images and forms so perfectly like those existing in the world around us, that the same minds are incapable of distinguishing where hallucination and reality touch each other. This faculty varies, of course, as much as other endowments: sometimes it produces nothing but vague, shapeless lights or sounds; in other persons it is capable of calling up well-defined forms, and of causing even words to be heard and pain to be inflicted. During severe suffering in body or soul, it may become a comforter, and in the moment of passing through the valley of the shadow of death, it is apt to soothe the anguish, by visions of heavenly bliss, but to an evil conscience it may also appear as an avenger, by prefiguring impending judgment and condemnation. It is this influence on the lives of men, and their great moral importance, which lends to visions—and in a certain degree even to hallucinations—additional interest, and makes it our duty not to set them aside as mere idle phantoms, but to try to ascertain their true nature and final purpose. This is all the more necessary, as in our day visions are considered purely the offspring of the seer's own mental activity, a truth abundantly proven by the simple fact that blind or deaf people are quite as capable of having visions and hallucinations, as those who have the use of all their senses.
Thus these magic phenomena have, in an unbroken chain, accompanied almost all the great men who are known to history, from the earliest time to our own day. In modern times they have often been successfully traced to bodily and mental disorders; but this fact diminishes in no way the interest which they have for the student of magic. The great Pascal, who was once threatened with instant death by the upsetting of his carriage, henceforth saw perpetually an abyss by his side, from which fiery flames issued forth; he could conceal it by simply placing a chair or a table between it and his eyes. In the case of the English painter Blake, who had visions of historic personages which appeared to him in idealized outlines, his periodical aberrations of mind were accepted as sufficient explanation. The bookseller Nicolai, of Berlin, on the contrary, who, like Beaumont, saw hundreds of men, women, and children accompanying him in his walks or visiting him in his chamber, found his ghostly company dependent on the state of his health. When he was bled or when leeches were applied, the images grew pale, and disappeared in part or dissolved entirely. A peculiarity of his case was, that he never saw visions in the dark, but all his phantasms appeared in broad daylight, or at night when candles had been brought in or a large fire was burning in the fireplace. Captain Henry Bell had been repeatedly urged by a German friend of his, Caspar von Sparr, to translate the Table-talk of Martin Luther, which, having been suppressed by an edict of the Emperor Rudolphus, had become very rare, and of which Sparr had sent him a copy, discovered by himself in a cellar where it had lain buried for fifty-two years. Captain Bell commenced the work; but abandoned it after a little while. A few weeks later a white-haired old man appeared to him at night, pulling his ear and saying: "What! will you not take time to translate the book? I will give you soon a place for it and the necessary leisure." Bell was much startled; but nevertheless neglected the work. A fortnight after the vision he was arrested and lodged in the gate-house of Westminster, where he remained for ten years, of which he spent five in the translation of the work. (Beaumont, "Tractat.," p. 72.) Even religious visions have by no means ceased in modern times, and more than one remarkable conversion is ascribed to such agency. We do not speak of so-called miracles like that of the children of Salette in the department of the Isère, in 1849, or the recent revelations at Lourdes, and in Southern Alsace, which were publicly endorsed by leading men of the church, and have furnished rich material even for political demonstrations. The vision of Major Gardiner, also, who, just before committing a sinful action, beheld the Saviour and became a changed man, has been so often published and so thoroughly discussed that it need not be repeated here. The conversion of young Ratisbone, in 1843, created at the time an immense sensation. He was born of Jewish parents, but, like only too many of his race, grew up to become a freethinker and a scoffer, rejecting all faiths as idle superstitions. One day he strolled into the church Delle Fratte in Rome, and while sunk in deep meditation, suddenly beheld a vision of the Virgin Mary, which made so deep an impression upon him that it changed the whole tenor of his life. He gave up the great wealth to which he had fallen heir, he renounced a lovely betrothed, and resolutely turning his back upon the world, he entered, as a novice, into a Jesuit convent; thus literally forsaking all in order to follow Christ.
The magic phenomena accompanying visions, have, among nations of the Sclavic race, not unfrequently a specially formidable and repellent character, corresponding, no doubt, with the temperament and turn of imagination peculiar to that race. The Sclaves are apt to be ridden by invisible men, till they drop down in a swoon; they are driven by wild beasts to the graves of criminals, where they behold fearful sights, or they are forced to mingle with troops of evil spirits roving over the wide, waste steppes, and they invariably suffer from the sad effects of such visions, till a premature death relieves them after a few months. In Wallachia a special vision of the so-called Pickolitch is quite common, and has, in one case at least, been officially recorded by military authorities. A poor private soldier, who had already more than once suffered from visions, was ordered to stand guard in a lonely mountain pass, and forced by the rules of the service to take his place there, although he begged hard to be allowed to exchange with a brother soldier, as he knew he would come to grief. The officer in command, struck by the earnestness of his prayer, promised to lend him all possible assistance, and placed a second sentinel for his support close behind him. At half past ten o'clock the officer and a high civil functionary saw a dark figure rush by the house in which they were; they hastened at once to the post, where two shots had fallen in rapid succession, and found the inner sentinel, the still smoking rifle in hand, staring fixedly at the place where his comrade had stood, and utterly unconscious of the approach of his superior. When they reached the outer post they found the rifle on the ground, shattered to pieces, and the heavy barrel bent in the shape of a scythe, while the man himself lay at a considerable distance, groaning with pain, for his whole body was so severely burnt that he died on the following day. The survivor stated that a black figure had fallen, as if from heaven, upon his comrade and torn him to pieces in spite of the two shots he had fired at it from a short distance, then it had vanished again in an instant. The matter was duly reported to headquarters, and when an investigation was ordered, the fact was discovered that a number of precisely similar occurrences had already been officially recorded. The vision is, of course, nothing more than a product of the excited imagination of the mountaineers, who lend the favorite shape of a "Pickolitch" to the frequent, bizarre-looking masses of fog and mist which rise in their dark valleys, hover over gullies and abysses, and driven by a sudden current of wind, fly upward with amazing rapidity, and thus seem to disappear in an instant. The apprehension of the poor sentinel, on the other hand, was a kind of clairvoyance produced by the combined influence of local tradition, the nightly hour and the dark pass, upon a previously-excited mind, while the vision of the two officers was a similar magic phenomena, the result of the impressions made upon them by the instant prayer of the victim, and a hot discussion about the reality of the "Prikolitch." The sentinel probably saw a weird shape and fired; the gun burst and killed him outright, setting fire to his clothes, a supposition strengthened by the statement that the poor fellow, anticipating a meeting with the spectre, had put a double charge into his rifle. The accident teaches once more that a mere denial of facts and a haughty smile at the idea of visions profit us nothing, while a calm and careful examination of all the circumstances may throw much light upon their nature, and help, in the course of time, to extirpate fatal superstitions, like those of the "Prikolitch."
It is interesting to see how harmless and even pleasant are, in comparison, the visions of men with well-trained minds and kindly dispositions. The bookseller Nicolai entertained his phantom-guests, and was much amused, at times, by their conversation. Macnish ("Sleep," p. 194) tells us the same of Dr. Bostock, who had frequent visions, and of an elderly lady whom Dr. Alderson treated for gout, and who received friendly visits from kinsmen and acquaintances with whom she conversed, but who disappeared instantly when she rang for her maid. Another patient of Dr. Alderson's, who saw himself in the same manner surrounded by numbers of persons, even felt the blows which a phantom-carter gave him with his whip. Although in all these cases the visions disappeared after energetic bleeding and purging, the phenomena were nevertheless real as far as they affected the patient, and have in every instance been fully authenticated and scientifically investigated. The well-known author, Macnish, himself was frequently a victim of this kind of self-delusion; he saw during an attack of fever fearful hellish shapes, forming and dissolving at pleasure, and during one night he beheld a whole theatre filled with people, among whom he recognized many friends and acquaintances, while on the stage he saw the famous Ducrow with his horses. As soon as he opened his eyes the scene disappeared, but the music continued, for the orchestra played a magnificent march from Aladdin, and did not cease its magic performance for five hours. The vision of the eye seems thus to have been under the influence of his will, but his hearing was beyond his control.
A very interesting class of visions accompanied by undoubted magic phenomena, and as frequent in our day as at any previous period, is formed by those which are the result of climatic and topographic peculiarities. We have already stated that the peculiar impression made upon predisposed minds by vast deserts and boundless wastes is frequently ascribed, by the superstitious dwellers near such localities, to the influence of evil spirits. Such a vision is the Ragl of Northern Africa, which occurs either after fatiguing journeys through the dry, hot desert, in consequence of great nervous excitement, or as one of the symptoms of typhoid fever in native patients. Seeing and hearing are alike affected, the other senses only in rare cases. Ordinarily the eye sees everything immensely magnified or oddly changed; pebbles become huge blocks of stone, faint tracks in the hot sand change into broad causeways or ample meadows, and distant shadows appear as animals, wells, or mountain-dells. If the moon rises the vision increases in size and distinctness; the scene becomes animated, men pass by, camels follow each other in long lines, and troops are marching past in battalions. Then the ear also begins to succumb to the charm; the rustling of dry leaves becomes the sweet song of numerous birds; the wind changes into cries of despair, and the noise of falling sand into distant thunder. The brain remains apparently unaffected, for travelers suffering of the Ragl are able to make notes and record the symptoms, although the note-book looks to them like a huge album with costly engravings. There can be little doubt that the great afflux of blood to the eyes and the ears is the first cause of these phenomena, but the peculiar nature of the visions remains still a mystery. One striking peculiarity is their unvarying identity in men of the same race and culture; Europeans have their own hallucinations which are not shared by Africans; the former see churches, houses, and carriages, the latter mosques, tents, and camels, thus proving here also the fact that these delusions of the senses are produced in the mind and not in the outer world. Travelers who suffer from hunger or from the dread effects of the simoon are naturally more subject to the Ragl than others; the visions generally appear towards midnight and continue till six or seven o'clock in the morning, while during the day they are only seen in cases of aggravated suffering. Another peculiarity is the fact that these visions connect themselves only with small objects and moderate sounds; the gentle friction of a vibrating tassel on his camel's neck appeared to the great explorer Richardson like the clacking of a mill-wheel, but the words shouted by his companion sounded quite natural. Thus he saw in every little lichen a green garden spot, but the stars he discerned distinctly enough to direct his way by them even when suffering most intensely from the Ragl.
The Fata Morgana of the so-called Great Desert in Oregon, in which the waters of the Paducah, Kansas, and Arkansas lose themselves to a great extent, is a kindred affection. Here also phantoms of every kind are seen, gigantic horsemen, colossal buildings, and flitting fires; but the absence of heat makes the visions less frequent and less distinct. The Indians, however, like the Moors of Africa, dread these apparitions and ascribe them to evil spirits. These phenomena have besides a special interest, by proving how constantly in all these questions of modern magic facts are combined with mere delusions. The flitting fires, to which we alluded, for instance, are not mere visions, but real and tangible substances, the effect of gaseous effusions which are quite frequent on these steppes. So it is also with the local visions peculiar to mountain regions, like the Little Gray Man of the Grisons in Switzerland and the gnomes of miners in almost all lands. The dwellers in Alpine regions acquire—or even inherit, it may be—a peculiar power of divination with regard to the weather; they feel instinctively, and without ever giving themselves the trouble of trying to ascertain the reason, the approach of fogs and mists, so dangerous to the welfare of their herds and their own safety. This presentiment is clothed by local traditions and their own vivid imaginations in the familiar shape of supernatural beings, and what was at first perhaps merely a form of speech, has gradually become a deep-rooted belief handed down from father to son. They end by really seeing—with their mind's eye—the rising mists and drifting fogs in the shape which they have so often heard mentioned, or give to rising gases, far down in the bowels of the earth, the form of familiar gnomes. These visions are hence not altogether produced by the imagination, but have, so to say, a grain of truth around which the weird form is woven.
A numerous class of visions, presenting some of the most interesting phenomena of this branch of magic, must be looked upon as the result of the innate desire to fathom the mystery of future life. The human heart, conscious of immortality by nature and assured of it by revelation, desires ardently to lift the veil which conceals the secrets of the life to come. Among other means to accomplish this, the promise has often been exacted of dear friends, that they would, after death, return and make known their condition in the other world. Such compacts have been made from time immemorial—but so far their only result has been that the survivors have believed occasionally that they have received visits from deceased friends—in other words, that their state of great excitement and eager expectation has caused them to have visions. It remains true, after all, that from that bourne no traveler ever returns. Nevertheless, these visions have a deep interest for the psychologist, as they are the result of unconscious action, and thus display what thoughts dwell in our innermost heart concerning the future.