VI
THE foregoing discussion of Shelley’s psychology, and especially of what was abnormal in it, would hardly be complete without some reference to the possibility of his having possessed what may be termed higher psychic powers. The whole subject is, of course, difficult, and this is not the place to embark on a long analysis of the general evidence for the existence of super-normal faculties. But, in view of the considerable researches that have been of late undertaken in this field, and of the general results that have been achieved, some mention of this aspect of Shelley’s genius is not inappropriate. We have noted in his private life the recurrence of certain ideas of persecution and of certain hallucinations. These things, like all other mental aberrations, require, as their necessary condition, some degree of dissociation of the various components of the mind. Just as the growth of a tumour indicates a certain autonomy of one portion of the body, so such phenomena as hallucination, double-personality, mediumistic trances, hysteria, and obsessions, indicate the autonomy of certain constituents of the mind or personality. But this capacity for decentralisation is not merely pathological in its effects; the same partial suspension of the control normally exercised by the conscious mind may liberate either the repressed impulses of the hysterical patient or the latent divinations and intuitions which mark the genius or the mystic.
The practical difference between the genius and the humble artist is that the former reaches heights of truth and beauty unattainable by the latter; heights which seem to require, for their attainment, the operation of obscure and even occult faculties. Inspiration, divination, direct intuitive perception of the nature both of things and of men—these, when they are clarified and crystallised by a competent artist, constitute genius. But these are the operations of psychic powers such as reach their fullest development in the state of ecstasy described by the mystics or in the phenomena of mediumship which, in all ages, have given rise to the popular belief in spirits. It is difficult for completely sane and normal men to realise that the familiar faculties and senses are, in reality, but stereotyped and canalised outlets for the living personality; that they may hinder the free expression of the latter, even while they help it along their own lines. Yet the inner person, or spirit, though it may have created sense-organs to facilitate its perceptions, can, as the observations of psychiatrists fully attest, yet perceive without their aid, and may even require, for its subtlest operations, a temporary suspension of their functions.
“If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is—infinite.
“[Typo for quotes?]For man has closed himself up till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.”
These lines of Blake’s express the same thought, which, indeed, is one common to all the mystics. The vital power which perceives through “this life’s five windows of the soul,” can also transcend the limitations which they impose on it; but, to so transcend the senses, it must usually obliterate them for the time being; and with them go most of the ordinary conscious factors of personality.
So with Shelley we find, not merely the pathological results of mental dissociation, nor even only the signs of genius—swift and subtle intuitions scattered through his works—but also, at times, we see indications of powers which, for want of a better term, may be called occult.[23] His poems give indications, stronger than mere hints, that he constantly verged on a state of ecstasy. His frequent reference to the ideas of infinity, eternity, and the like; his use of epithets implying the absence of some defining and limiting attribute; his reiterated employment of such words as chasm and abysm; and his direct references to states of ecstatic rapture, mental vertigo, sudden sinkings, faintings and swoons, all show that he lived on the edge of that state of ecstasy in which the limits of normal personality are passed and a region of more extended consciousness is reached. He felt “the awful shadow of some unseen Power,” not as an abstract philosophical idea, but as a real presence.
Sudden, thy shadow fell on me;
I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy.
I do not think that anyone who has studied the writings of some of the greater mystics will fail to see much that is similar in Shelley’s poetry; although, on the other hand, it is not likely that Shelley ever attained the full state of complete ecstasy.
In comparing the lives and records of different mystics we find, according to Dr. Bucke,[24] a certain substratum of common features, which seem to be essential characteristics of the mystical disposition. Before reaching the state of cosmic consciousness, the subject must be of an earnest, truth-seeking nature; he must perceive the evils of this life, and suffer acutely in spirit; he must be moved by compassion for the fate of mankind, and by an ardent yearning after a more spiritual existence. Usually more passionate than the average man, he yet has to renounce much of the so-called pleasures of the world, and, in solitude, to wring from his own heart the meaning and purpose of life.