Human degenerates, however, do not form a new type, but are on the

decline to extinction. They are those who lack personality; that is,

they are not moulded into harmony with a social environment which

unfolds self-consciousness. They are strictly biological only when

they are congenital and therefore not educable. They are social

degenerates when they are the product of a degraded education. Both

factors are radical. A born idiot can never be other than an idiot. On

the other hand, the deprivation during childhood and youth of language

and education, as shown by Caspar Hauser, or the wolf-boy of Agra, or

the experiment of Emperor Akbar, leaves the normal natural endowments

as idiotic as though they never existed. The two factors vary

independently through all degrees. Education ranges from the slums to

the pure firesides. The congenital equipment varies from the idiot to

the genius.

The relative weight of these two factors is a matter of statistics.

Absolutely speaking, heredity is everything; relatively, its social

significance depends upon the actual proportion of abnormal to normal

births.

The highest estimate I am able to make of the total number of

degenerates, both born and induced, is five and one-half per cent of

the population, as follows:

ESTIMATED TOTAL OF DEFECTIVES PER MILLION POPULATION.

Census estimate (1890).

Insane 1,697

Feeble-minded 1,526

Deaf and Dumb 659

Blind 805

Prisoners 1,315

Juvenile delinquents 237

Almshouse paupers 1,166

-----

7,405

Outdoor Criminals (five times the number of inmates) 7,760

Tramps (McCook, 1895, New Haven Conference of Charities

and Correction, 85,768) 1,308

Drunkards (Crothers, 1893, Chicago Conference, 1,200,000,

equal to about 10 per cent of voting population) 19,000

Prostitutes (weighted average of Levasseur's estimate for

rural (600) and urban (11,200 to 17,200) France, in

"La Population Française," vol. ii, p. 434) 5,000

Outdoor Paupers (weighted average of report at Nashville

Conference, 1894, 46 per cent in Penna. to 2.2 per cent

in N. Y.) 15,000

------

55,473

This estimate would make the maximum number of all degenerates 5.54

per cent of the population. From these must be deducted those who are

not congenital. We can estimate the congenitals by three methods: by

statistics of _atavism_, or _consanguinity_, and by _experiment_.

In the statistics of atavism we add together the physical

abnormalities of the individual, assuming that a criminal type is

found when these abnormalities reach the number of three or more. The

statistical method always suffers the limitation that it indicates not

identity, but probability. Yet it has an important value, provided it

discovers ratios of probability which concur. This is not the case in

the method by atavism. Sixty to seventy per cent of criminals do not

belong to the assumed criminal type; and sixteen per cent of normal

males are classed as criminals, whereas the actual number is less than

three per cent of the males of criminal age. (See Lombroso, "The

Female Offender," pp. 104, 105.)

While atavism itself is unquestioned, this method seizes upon rigid

physical characters to measure educable qualities. And where the

latter are themselves abnormal the causes may lie with education and

not heredity.

The method by consanguinity seeks not the abnormalities of the patient

himself, but the signs of disease and degeneracy in his blood

relatives. It therefore greatly increases the apparent weight of

heredity, for it collects symptoms from several individuals instead of

one. The medical authorities ascribe fifty to eighty per cent of

inebriety to heredity. This method fails as does the other, for, as

seen in the Jukes or the drunkard, the child gets both its heredity

and its education from the same degraded parents, and the method

provides no measure for separating the two.

In sociology the method of experiment has but limited employment. The

modern sociologist cannot mate the parents nor vivisect the soul,

after the methods of the biologist. He can only move the child from

one education to another, and his experiment is incidental to the

larger purpose of saving the child. His results, too, can appear only

as a ratio of probability; but this ratio measures the mental and

moral qualities themselves directly and not by inference. Elmira

Reformatory and others cure eighty per cent of their charges. Model

placing-out institutions and free kindergartens save nearly all. And

these are taken from the most vicious and criminal parentage in the

land. Our five and one-half per cent of degenerates must therefore be

greatly reduced in order to find the residuum of congenitals. I have

made the following deductions:

ESTIMATED DEFECTIVES NOT CONGENITAL, PER MILLION POPULATION.

Criminals (80 per cent of total) 7,369

Prostitutes (80 per cent of total) 4,000

Outdoor Paupers (80 per cent of total) 16,000

Tramps (80 per cent of total) 1,046

Drunkards (50 per cent of total) 9,500

------

37,915

Which deducted from 55,473

leaves congenital defectives 17,558

equal to 1.75 per cent of the population. Overlappings would diminish

this ratio; greater infant mortality and the omitted youthful

defectives would increase it.

If less than two per cent of the births are below the normal Aryan

brain level, on the other hand possibly two per cent are above the

average, and should be classed as the geniuses who could achieve

eminence regardless of surroundings. The remaining ninety per cent or

more are born with ordinary equipment; they are hereditarily neither

good nor bad, criminal nor virtuous, brilliant nor stupid. With these

masses of the people the first fifteen years of infancy and youth are

decisive.

We may now classify the selective forces of society. Social selection

is partly natural and partly artificial. It originates artificially in

the self-consciousness of dominant individuals. Struggle and conflict

ensue, out of which private property survives in its various forms as

an intended control over others. This control is then transmitted as

the various social institutions to succeeding generations and becomes

for them natural and unintended. These social institutions then

constitute a coercive environment, not over wholly unwilling subjects,

but over those whose wills are shaped by education and social pressure

to coöperate with the very institutions that suppress them.

Gradually, as subordinate classes become self-conscious, innovations

are made which aim to check the unbridled despotism of private

property; new conflicts thereupon take place and certain innovations

survive, which, at first artificial, become natural for the next

generations.

As society becomes more definite, reflective, and humane, as it

acquires fixed laws and government, it increases the range of

artificial selection; it supplants custom by statute, and remodels its

inherited institutions.

It is now animated by a new motive, the development of moral character

in all the people. With reference to this new motive social selection

is either direct or indirect. Direct selection is highly artificial,

but it is only negative. It consists in segregating the degenerates to

prevent propagation. Society cannot, of course, directly interfere

with the marriage choice of normal persons, for that would be to choke

the purest expression of personality. But it can isolate the two per

cent who will never rise to moral responsibility. This would doubtless

increase the wards of the state, but it is needed both for the reason

already given and, more especially, to clarify the public mind on the

causes of delinquency and dependency. As long as these evils can be

charged to heredity the public is blinded to the share that springs

from social injustice.

The increase and classification of the custodial population here

contemplated is a problem for administrative charity. Possibly the

colony system would make that population mutually self-supporting and

also remove the current sentimentalism against long isolation of the

incurables.

With the ground cleared of the true degenerates, the operations of

indirect social selection can be seen. This also is artificial, but in

a less mechanical way. It consists in so adjusting the political,

industrial, and social environment as to affect personality, either to

suppress or develop it. The two instruments are legal rights and

education. For example, the tenement-house congestion, with its

significant educational environment, is the product of laws of

property and taxation which favor owners and speculators instead of

tenants, and of private property in rapid transit which puts a tax on

exit to the suburbs. It cannot be said of this and other selective

factors, such as the profit-making saloon, long hours of work, low

pay, irregular employment, that they permit natural selection to

operate. They suppress personality, which preëminently is the natural

fact in the human being. Social selection is therefore tending to

become less and less arbitrary, but is making room for a higher

natural selection--a natural selection where not brute force and

cunning are the fittest to survive, but where, with freedom, security,

and equal opportunity, the human personality will work out its own

survival. Man alone of all the animals can rise to the angels, but he

alone can fall below the brutes. This is the glory and the penalty of

personality. It becomes a unique selective agency whose standard is

raised with the advance of civilization. The Australian cannibal,

without opium, tobacco, alcohol, or syphilis, may survive with a low

morality. The American exposed to these destroyers must be a better

man or perish. Personality, thus becoming a keen selective principle,

is based not necessarily on overpopulation and competition, but on

that self-destruction which comes from vice, disease, and drunkenness.

Its degraded offspring will perish or feed the ranks of the hereditary

degenerates to be properly segregated and ended.

But with education and opportunity the higher forms of human character

will naturally increase and survive. With the independence and

education of women sexual selection becomes a refined and powerful

agent of progress. With the right to work guaranteed, the tramp and

indiscriminate charity have no excuse, and the honest workman becomes

secure in the training and survival of his family.

We hear much of scientific charity. There is also a scientific

justice. The aim of the former is to educate true character and

self-reliance. The aim of the latter is to open the opportunities for

the free expression of character. Education and justice are the

methods of social selection. By their coöperation is shaped the moral

environment where alone can survive that natural yet supernatural

product, human personality.

PSYCHIC OR SUPERMUNDANE EXPERIENCES.

BY CORA L. V. RICHMOND.

From between ten and eleven years of age I have been endowed with

gifts and favored with experiences that, I am well assured, are very

exceptional, and that, until quite recently, have not been admitted to

the realm of psychical investigation, philosophical discussion, or

even human credence. Lately, however, there have been found a

sufficient number of well authenticated facts in similar lines of

experience to warrant the investigation and classification of them (if

possible) under a modern name, "Psychic Research," and under a well

established and not so recent one, Spiritualism.

I am not intending to discuss these subjects, _per se_, nor to

endeavor to classify or explain the experiences I am about to relate.

They are _experiences_, as real as any of those in my human or mundane

existence; indeed, if I were called upon to decide that one is real

and the other illusion, I should say without hesitation that these,

and similar ones throughout my lifetime, are the real, and the

ordinary mundane experiences unreal.

At the age above referred to I was, without any seeking, and without

any surrounding circumstances to "suggest" such a state, taken

possession of (entranced) by intelligences, distinct personalities in

thought, word, and action, who spoke through my organism, unfolded and

educated my mind, in fact became my mental and spiritual instructors.

The public discourses and teachings given under these conditions are

well known to many of the readers of THE ARENA, as these labors are

the work of a lifetime.

It is not of this public work that I am constrained to write; but I

may as well say here that I have had no other teachers, no other

instructors, and have pursued no course of study or reading of human

books; those whom I call my guides and guardians have been my

teachers. During the time that these outside intelligences are

controlling and speaking through my organism I am wholly unconscious

of what is passing in human life and wholly unaware of that which is

being uttered through my lips. I am also unaware of the lapse of time.

It may be best for me to here declare that I am not, in the usual

sense, peculiar, nor was I different in my childhood from other

children, save as each differs from the other. I was very diffident,

and--not using the word in the psychical sense--sensitive. I was not

given to morbid states or to the "dreaming of dreams." Perhaps I was

imaginative; most children are; and I loved fairy tales, but not

unduly. This is simply to show that there was no abnormal condition of

mind or body to produce the supernormal results that I have referred

to.

I ought also to say that I never made the slightest preparation for

the discourses and poems given through my lips, many of which, as the

reader may know, were listened to by able and thoughtful minds, and

from them received the highest praise. I tell this, not boastingly,

but with humble gratitude that I have been made the instrument of

giving the message of immortality to the world.

My own experiences during this period of entrancement, or while in the

supernormal state, may be of peculiar interest to the reader, since

they seem to be almost unique. While passing into this state I

experience no physical sensations that are describable; a sense of

being set free, of passing into a larger realm,--not of being

transported or going anywhere,--is all that I can ever recall as

sensation. Before I have time or opportunity to think how I feel, I am

in the other state. Then I see, but I now know it is perception more

than sight; I sometimes experience that which we call hearing in the

human state, but I am fully aware; perception supersedes the senses.

Those whom I meet are individualities; many are friends known to me in

the form before they passed from the mortal state; many are those who

were unknown to me personally, only known by name and fame; and many I

have never known until they revealed themselves to me in this "inner,"

"higher," other realm. When returning to outward consciousness, I

often see, or remember as sight, such visions of surpassing loveliness

that no language, no gift of art, even with genius-portraiture, could

describe or picture them. These scenes and visions are associated with

individuals who exist in that state, and, apparently, are objective;

yet I am fully aware that they illustrate or depict the states and

tastes of the individuals with whom they are seen, and are not organic

physical forms, but psychic projections of the individual spirits.

These forms and scenes readily pass and change according to the state

of the one seeing them, or according to the state of the individual

with whom they are associated. The "sphere" of a spirit, or of

spirits, is the state or condition, not the environment.

In early life, before my mind had thought on the "objective" and

"subjective" meanings of thoughts and things, I thought these scenes

were "objective" in the human, mundane sense. I am now perfectly aware

that every sensuous faculty--seeing, hearing, etc.--is superseded by

this "perception" to which I have before referred; in fact, that the

bodily senses as well as the mental faculties--brain expression--are

but the different avenues of perceiving and conveying the intelligence

of the individual spirit while associated with material form, this

perception, or awareness, being the one supreme state of the spirit.

Still I have been shown series after series of beautiful

scenes,--gardens, landscapes, visions of art, transcendent pictures of

tint, form, and tone that no language can portray; and I am sure these

abide for all who wish for or have need of them, and are the

illustrations of the spiritual states of those with whom one comes in

spiritual contact--_rapport_. Yet the greater the degree of

perception, the less important become these illustrations of states;

we not only see "face to face," but perceive soul to soul. I became

ashamed, almost, of the state of mind requiring these illustrations or

any similar presentations. I found knowledge, however, in all the

methods employed by my teachers, for they knew my needs.

Conversation in that state is not by means of speech or even language;

sometimes before the thought is formulated the answer comes. Such is

the rare sympathy existing between teacher and pupil in this state

that the guide knows before the question is formed. Still, there must

be the conscious desire for knowledge, or no knowledge can be

received; reminding one of the "Seek, and ye shall find" of the

ancient Truth-Teller.

When in that state I readily pass to a knowledge of what intimate

friends in earth-life are doing and thinking. I even enter into such

_rapport_ as to be aware of their material surroundings, their states

of mind, and their bodily health, obtaining all this from their minds,

not from physical consciousness or sensation. Many times they have

been also conscious of my presence, and we have afterward verified

these experiences by outward correspondence, mostly to satisfy our

friends. One or two instances will suffice to illustrate this class of

experiences.

When I was yet a child, twelve years of age, my father accompanied me

on one of my pilgrimages of spiritual work to western New York, our

former home. During that visit or tour a circle for investigation and

experiment was formed in Dunkirk, N. Y. After we returned to our then

home in Wisconsin, I was one evening entranced,--as was usual,--and

while in that state was distinctly conscious of being in Dunkirk, of

seeing every member of the circle, with all of whom I was acquainted

except one lady. She proved to be the seer of the evening. She saw me

and described me so accurately that everyone in the circle recognized

me, and, of course, thought I was dead. This so disturbed her mental

or psychic state that I could not impress upon her mind that my body

was entranced and that this was but one of my usual spiritual

pilgrimages. On returning to my mundane state I narrated what I had

experienced, and asked my father to write at once to the circle in

Dunkirk and relieve their minds. He did so, but, as naturally would

occur, they had also written, the letters crossing each other on the

way, and their letter confirmed what I had told in every particular.

Later in life I had a lady friend whom I repeatedly visited and

comforted, for she was in great sorrow. One time I made her see my

body, or its apparition, so plainly that she saw the dress in which it

was clothed--precisely what I had wished, as it was the color she most

liked to see me wear. Another friend in California became so

susceptible to my presence that she wrote long letters from

me--automatically--which I, in this state, dictated to her, thus

rendering correspondence between us almost superfluous except for

verification to our outward senses. My own mother was aware of my

presence almost daily; and it was a curious fact that my telltale

spirit would go to her and reveal the very things I wished to keep

from her,--any little surprises or presents, or the time of my

arrival home on a visit. However late the hour, I always found her

ready with a warm supper to receive me. When arriving after the

journey home she would say: "You came to me last night in spirit and

told me you were coming in body." All important things connected with

my welfare she knew in a similar way.

Two friends, Mr. and Mrs. B----, were extensive travellers. At one

time they were absent three years, taking a tour of the Orient. We did

not keep up a regular correspondence, as mutually our time was too

much taken up with our respective duties or pleasures, but I could

always locate them while I was in this "inner" state. At one time I

saw them surrounded by what seemed more like a scene in the spirit

state than in earth-life. They were on an island, surrounded by

water-lilies; the skies were full of golden light, and they were amid

pavilions, grottos, and altars of quaint and unique design. I could

not place them, but on returning to my mundane state I related to my

family what I had seen, and I wrote down the date. In about three or

four weeks I had a letter from them dated at Tokio, giving a

description of this very island I had seen; they were there on that

very day when I saw them, and the island was as I had seen it. It

proved to be one of the sacred islands in Japan.

This consciousness of visiting earth friends is, however, only the

smallest part of these inner experiences; and usually occurs when I am

passing into or out of the deeper or more spiritual states. Although I

could fill volumes with these interesting experiences,--verified by

being shared with others in human life,--I feel it due to the reader

that I narrate my more inner experiences; at least in sufficient

degree that they may be recorded, and that there may be some

perception, however inadequately expressed, of what is possible in

this surpassing realm.

I cannot pass from this subject of my visits to human friends,

however, without here recording one other phase of this many-threaded

line of experiences. While in this realm of spirit I often meet and

converse freely, or commune, with friends that are yet in human forms,

but who appear as spirits and seem to possess all the activities of

the spiritual state. They meet and mingle freely with those who have

"died" to human life, yet I am perfectly sure they recall nothing of

this when in their human state. Why I should remember or take with me

these experiences that the others whom I saw within this realm could

not recall, I could not divine until it was explained by my guide.

The explanation is this: "In sleep mortals pass into this realm for

spiritual rest and change, as it is the normal realm of the spirit;

but they do not pass through the spiritual awakening of the faculties

as those do who are endowed with 'spiritual gifts,' therefore the

experiences cannot be recalled _as experiences_; still, they sometimes

have vague reminiscences or glimpses of 'unremembered dreams' that aid

them throughout the whole day, often for days; and thus the outward

life is sustained and fed from this realm. By and by the race will

have spiritual growth to know and remember the experiences of the

spirit as they now do of the human life." I have frequently met those

in that state who were strangers to me here, and who were still in

human life; and in after years I have met them face to face in outward

form, often wondering if they thought they had seen me before, as I

was certain I had seen them. When the whole of this other side of

human experience is made known, how many things now veiled will stand

revealed! By far the greater number of volumes could be filled with

those transcendent experiences referred to earlier in these pages,

with friends in spirit states, with teachers and guides in their own

realm.

My mother, always intuitive, sympathetic, religious, and caring much

for the sick and ailing while in earth life, I was accustomed to see

in a sphere or state of her own near the "Healing Sphere" of one

of my teachers. She was surrounded with her own favorite

flowers--old-fashioned hollyhocks, sweet-williams, and fragrant

healing herbs. My guide explained that in _her thought_, or spiritual,

state she requires these things to aid her in healing or ministering

to those on earth. Whenever I visited her state it seemed to be in the

midst of scenery such as she loved on earth, and under a

morning-glory-covered lattice, where she sat in a low chair like one I

had seen her use in earth life. Though not limited to that state, she

always revealed herself thus to me; and I would return to my earth

state with a sense of homesickness, and with the odor of thyme and

rosemary clinging to my _psychic olfactories_.

The Arena, Volume 18, No. 92, July, 1897 · 第 9 / 13 段