And John fully believed that he had held direct conversation with the Lord. No man could shake his faith in that. Undoubtedly it was a case of that subjective audition similar to what the deaf experience. John heard the conversation, or at least imagined that the words were spoken; they followed or grew out of his thought.
I myself have had enough experience along this line to make me very charitable with those who give accounts of this sort of thing. It is a question, however, as to just how much of the unseen one can hear and not be considered insane! While some of the deaf lack the imagination to carry out this strange experience, others realize that the public draws no distinct boundary between “oddity” and insanity, and are wary of repeating all the strange messages which come to them. I think it is beyond question that primitive people, Indians, isolated mountaineers or ignorant folk living in lonely places have this subjective side of their hearing greatly developed. This I believe to be also true of educated thinkers who are largely influenced by imagination. It seems perfectly evident to me that some persons of peculiar psychic power may really develop abilities unknown to those who possess the ordinary five senses. As I have stated elsewhere in this book, I predict that the study of this strange power is to develop during the next century, and that the afflicted are to lead in its investigation.
Speaking of head noises and imaginary voices, I have an idea that there are deaf men who took these things too seriously and came to think that such noises appear to all. This led to a condition which made it something of a trial to live with them. They have been railroaded off to some “sanitarium” or asylum, even though they may be entirely sane. I have met deaf men who realize all this, and therefore, as they express it, they “will not tell all they know.” I am convinced that for this reason much that might be valuable to the psychologist is lost to the world.
Another strangely interesting point in this connection is that the deaf hear perfectly in dreams. Even considering dream psychology, this is to me the most curious phenomenon of the condition. In dreams I seem to meet my friends just as in waking hours, and I hear their conversation, even to a whisper. I also hear music, but it is entirely of the old style which I heard as a young man, before my hearing failed. Unfortunately (or otherwise) the modern “jazz” and rag-time tunes mean nothing to me; I have never heard a note of them. In dreams I hear grand operas and songs of the Civil War and the following decade; these last are plaintive melodies for the most part, for New England, when I was a young man, was full of “war orphans,” who largely dictated the music of the period. But even in sleep, listening as easily as anyone to this old music or to the voices of friends, the thought comes to me constantly that I am really deaf, and that all this riot of music and conversation is abnormal. The psychological explanation that here is a dream struggle between a great desire and the fact which thwarts it in real life sounds plausible enough, but the deaf man still must ponder on the profound mystery of his dream-life. I do not know just how common this dream music or sleep conversation may be among the deaf. I am told that some deaf people rarely, if ever, have this experience, while others tell very remarkable stories of what comes to them in sleep. It must be understood that I am merely giving my own personal experience, without trying to record the general habit of the deaf.
Physicians relate some curious experiences in this line. In one case a deaf and dumb man, utterly incapable of hearing when awake, was made to hear music and conversation when asleep. On the other hand, a deaf man who could hear music and conversation in dreams could not be awakened even by loud noises close to his ear. He showed a mechanical response to the vibration by a slight flicker of the eyelids, but protested that he heard nothing of the racket. In most cases of hysterical deafness arising from nervous trouble or shell shock during the war the patient seemed to have forgotten how to listen. If he could be made to listen intently he usually made some gain in hearing. Mind control or the use of some hypnotic influence is actually helpful in many cases.
I feel confident that this subjective hearing and these strange voices are responsible for the reverence or fear with which the Indians and other ignorant people usually regard the deaf. It is not unlikely that the famous “voices” which inspired Joan of Arc resulted from a form of subjective audition. Seers or “mediums” probably have developed this quality until it gains for them the respect and awe of their constituents; this would account for their great influence with primitive peoples. I have even had evidence of a remarkable attitude of wonderment toward myself on the part of strange people among whom I have traveled.
I take it that all this subjective audition arises from thoughts and emotions filed away by memory somewhere in the mind. Business men run through their dusty files and find letters or documents that were put there years ago and forgotten. Here at last they are brought to recollection, and the memories associated with them start a train of ideas which may affect the mind like a joyous parade or a funeral procession. The deaf, lacking the healing or diverting influence of sound, live nearer to this subconscious stratum of memories and can more easily call them up; in time of worry or great fatigue they can more easily come to us. Much of the curious foolishness of intoxicated persons results from this rising of the subconscious.
I have no doubt that the original deaf man, far back in history, when men lived in caves without light or fire, was considered a gifted and highly favored individual. I think it likely that the voices and strange noises which come to us through subjective audition were considered by these primitive people as communications from the strange, mysterious powers which changed light into darkness, and brought cold, hunger and storm. Probably the original deaf man was given the warmest corner in the cave and the first choice of food, in order to propitiate the spirit which communicated with him. The modern deaf man, however, can take little pride in the good fortunes of his original representative, for he is made aware every day that his fellows no longer class him as a necessity in the world’s economy, unless perchance he is able to lend them money or cater to their necessities.
It has been clearly shown that the play of our emotions has a physical influence on the body. The working of such emotions as fear, anger or worry is destructive; joy or quiet pleasure helps to build up rather than to break down. The happier emotions are nearly always influenced or guided by sound—music, or gentle tones of the voice. Thus we may see how the deaf, deprived of this healing or harmonizing influence, except in dreams, may easily become fearsome and morbid. Once a woman loathed dishwashing with a hatred too bitter for this world. She was obliged to do it, and she was able to largely overcome her emotion of disgust by playing selections from the operas on the victrola while at her work. That music influenced the counter emotions of joy and beauty until they overcame the loathing. Her hands were in the dishwater, but her mind was in glory—and then what did her hands matter? We can all remember similar cases where music has filled the soul with a great joy and has lifted the body out of menial tasks or humiliation. But music is not for the deaf; we are shut away from it, and can find no substitute. We must work out our mental troubles as best we can.