Fig. 7.—Sir William Crookes with psychic face obtained in his own laboratory through the mediumship of the Crewe Circle. (See p. [33].)
(For the benefit of the uninitiated, let me explain that the carrier and the dark slide are different names for the same thing, the receptacle into which the plates are put in the dark room, which is then inserted into the back of the camera.)
Now this is a case which any reasonable man would say eliminated every possible source of error. The actual result was that out of six plates, two showed unrecognised extra faces. One of the results is reproduced in [Figure 6]. How came those faces upon the plates? How can our critics explain it? They cannot explain it, and yet they have not the honesty to admit their inability. Among our chief enemies is that inner circle which for the moment controls the destinies of the Society for Psychical Research. What flaw do they find? I am sure the honest common-sense reader would never guess. The flaw adduced is that Major Spencer left his camera inside his despatch-box in the studio while he was in the dark room. Mrs. Buxton was in the studio. She might have dashed at the box, pulled it open, dragged out the camera, and then ... well, what then? No one can imagine what the next stage would be. Dr. Abraham Wallace has publicly asked the critic to state what could then be done which would have put two human faces upon different plates and none on the others. If Major Spencer had locked his box it would then have been claimed that Mrs. Buxton had a skeleton key in her pocket. It is puerile criticism of this sort which has lowered that intellectual respect which we older members had once for the S.P.R. It is intellectually dishonest and the sign of a frame of mind which is not there to follow facts or to ascertain the truth, but only to argue a preconceived case as a lawyer speaks from his brief. The S.P.R. (or their present spokesmen) are against psychic photography, and therefore it is better to put up the most childish and preposterous objections rather than to say that a case is clearly proved. I would appeal to any impartial mind whether this case of Major Spencer’s does not absolutely cover every objection.
I would now give the case of the dream-hand of Lady Grey of Falloden. When I was going to Australia this lady most kindly wrote out the facts for me and gave me a copy of the photograph, which I used upon my screen. Lady Glenconner, as she then was, dreamed that if she was photographed at Crewe she would see her son’s hand resting upon her left shoulder. She said nothing to Hope, but she put the fact of her dream upon record. Sure enough, in the photograph there is a small cloud of ectoplasm, and emerging from it a hand, which is resting even as it rested in the dream. Where does fraud come in, in such a case as that? Surely those who circulated a libellous pamphlet against Hope upon the strength of a single case must feel ashamed when they consider such a result as that, where no possible manipulation could have affected the picture. Psychic caution is an admirable quality, but extreme incredulity is even more disastrous than extreme credulity. The psychic investigator should be a filter, not a block.
I would now quote the case of Mr. Pearse, a well-known business man of Manchester. This is no psychic fanatic, but a hard-headed Northern man of business. He visited Hope at Crewe, taking with him his own new camera and his own carrier, which was loaded by his daughter. No chance of transposition here, unless Hope had a duplicate carrier.
“The result,” he says, “was an undisputed likeness to my father. No photograph of him in that position is in existence. Everyone who has known him has recognised him, and my mother treasures the photograph very much.”
In this account the sting lies in the statement that no such photograph is in existence. Again and again—it would not be too much to say that fifty instances could be produced—this statement can be made. Is it not incredible that people should be found who cannot see that such a fact is evidential of supernormal action?
I have alluded to the fact that Sir William Crookes received such a photograph at Crewe, and that it bore a close resemblance to his deceased wife. I have not been able to get any copy of this photograph, but it is devoutly to be hoped that it, and Sir William’s invaluable psychic papers, are being duly cared for by his executors and biographer, for they have there a precious trust, and any tampering with it on account of their individual opinions would entail upon them the censure of generations yet unborn. In an interview in the Christian Commonwealth (December 4th, 1918) the interviewer, Miss Scatcherd, asked, “And may I say how you went north with another friend and myself and procured on your own marked plate, under your own conditions, a likeness of your beloved wife, the late Lady Crookes?” To which Sir William answered: “You may say that, since it is the truth.... You may add that the picture obtained after her passing on is unlike any of the many which I possess, but certainly resembles my dear one in her last days of failing health.” In a private letter, which I have seen, Sir William, writing on December 14, 1916, shortly after the incident, says: “The photograph is easily recognised by all to whom I have shown it. I find that it is very similar in likeness to one I took about ten years ago, although by no means a facsimile reproduction. This makes it all the more satisfactory to me.”
Though I am unable to reproduce this photograph, I have been able, by the kindness of Miss Scatcherd, to reproduce ([Figure 7]) the preliminary experimental photograph got in Sir William’s laboratory, which induced him to take the Crewe Circle seriously. Only Mr. Hope and Miss Scatcherd were present on this occasion. It was taken, says the latter, “under the strictest conditions that the genius of Sir William Crookes, backed by his unusual common sense, could suggest.” The face here is not that of Lady Crookes, and was not recognised. But surely such a result must show the public how superficial is the view which on the strength of a single experiment endeavours to discredit the whole life’s work of Mr. Hope.