Would Chance Coincidence Explain?
It has already been proved by experiments in guessing that even the
comparatively poor Dessoir results were far beyond the reach of chance.
And it has been shown by experiments in guessing that the Sinclair
results were much farther beyond the reach of chance. Such counter-tests
may be repeated by any reader _ad libitum_.
Would the Kindred Ideas of Relatives Explain?
It makes one feel foolish to add anything more about the curious “thob”
to the effect that what is taken for telepathy between husbands and
wives is really coincidence brought about by their community of thought
and tendency to think about the same things. It should be evident that
even if a husband and wife knew only one hundred objects in common, that
astonishing fact of limitation would not imply that the lady would be
likely to think of a particular one of these, say No. 92, at the
particular time that her spouse chose it. For once it may be well to
show just how narrow and connubial a range of drawings a husband may
submit to his wife. (See Appendix II.)
Would Conscious or Subconscious Fraud on the Part of the Percipient
Explain?
We must squarely face every possible theory, and this is one. Mr.
Sinclair himself dealt with it. We must do so more thoroughly, in spite
of Mrs. Sinclair’s testimony to remarkable telepathic experiences in her
earlier years (_Mental Radio_, p. 16), in spite of her husband’s
testimony about her actually setting down in writing what “Jan” was
doing at a distance before she got from him the substantially
corresponding facts (pp. 21–24), and getting in dreams or by
“concentration” facts concerning himself at a distance (pp. 31–33), in
spite of Mrs. Sinclair’s reputation for practicality and non-credulity
(pp. 17, 139), honor and conscientiousness (p. 53), her impressing her
husband as being “a fanatic for accuracy” (pp. 138–139), the grave
reasons which caused her to institute these experiments (p. 18; Appendix
I), her intense desire to be sure, and to satisfy every misgiving of her
own (pp. 136–137), her urgency that her husband should watch her work
(p. 53), her variations in the methods of experimentation to see what
effect they would have (pp. 80, 136–137, 144), her reluctance that her
husband should publish his book until still more experiments were had
(p. 137), and the great pains she takes to describe her method of
development and “preparation” in order to encourage others to experiment
(pp. 116, 128). All these considerations are cumulatively almost
overwhelming, yet we proceed in disregard of them.
But the 7 experiments with “Bob” were at long distance, and the
conditions guaranteed by “Bob” and his wife.
The 7 experiments of July 24–29, 1928, were conducted with the agent in
one room and the percipient in another, thirty feet away, with a closed
door between. That is to say, Mr. Sinclair, in one room, would call out
“All right” when ready to draw, his wife, lying in another room, would
call “All right” when she had completed her drawing, and then the two
drawings were compared. He declares that there was no possible way by
which Mrs. Sinclair could have seen his drawing. So that any charge of
fraud would have to include him.
The 9 experiments of February 17, 1929, were thus conducted. The
original drawings were made by the agent, Mr. Sinclair, while alone in
his study, on green paper, enclosed in a sheet of green paper, the whole
folded, making four thicknesses absolutely impervious to sight (as
established in the office of the B.S.P.R.), put in an envelope, the
envelope sealed, and the 9 envelopes put on a table by the percipient’s
couch. She took each in turn and placed it over her solar plexus, kept
it there until her decision was made, then sat up and made her drawing.
All the while her husband sat near, but absolutely speechless until her
drawing was done, when the wrappings were taken from the original
drawing and it was immediately compared with the reproduction. If the
experiments were at night, the reading light immediately over the
percipient’s head was extinguished, since she found that somewhat
subdued illumination favored passivity, but there remained sufficient
light in the room for comparison of the drawings, and every movement of
the woman was distinctly visible. If in the daytime, the window shades
back of the couch were lowered, but again every object was distinctly
visible. Under precisely these conditions, step by step, no professional
magician could have obtained knowledge of the original drawing before
making his own.[25]
As we have seen, 9 of Professor McDougall’s experiments, later than the
period of the book and reaching results defying the doctrine of chance,
were made with thirty miles between the parties, and 10 of them with the
parties at opposite ends of a long room. Five more were done with
McDougall at least watching his sealed envelopes. It will probably not
be suggested that he was in a conspiracy to deceive the public, but in
these cases fraud could hardly have been practiced by the percipient
alone.
Already we have 47 experiments, 16 with an intervening distance of above
thirty miles, 7 with agent and percipient in different rooms, and 10
with agent and percipient at the two ends of a room; 14 with agent near
the percipient but closely watching her and his sealed opaque envelopes.
But since Mr. Sinclair says that “several score drawings” were drawn in
his study, sealed in envelopes made impervious to sight, and watched by
him as one by one his wife laid them on her body and set down her
impressions, the total number of experiments, guarded to this or a
greater extent, aside from the later ones by McDougall, could hardly
have fallen short of 120.
Later, since Mr. Sinclair was very busy writing his novel “Boston” and
disliked the interruptions, he ceased (about midway of the whole lot, he
tells us) to enclose his drawings in envelopes and to watch his wife’s
work. Had this been the case throughout, any report based on such
“experiments” would not, scientifically speaking, be worth the paper it
was written on. As it is, I should be quite willing to rest the whole
case on the 120 or more guarded experiments covered by the last two
paragraphs. More than that, I would be willing to rest it upon the 33
experiments conducted with the participants separated by the length of a
room, thirty feet and a closed door, or thirty miles.
But the logic of the situation is entirely against the assumption that
fraud was used any more after it became easily possible than before,
when it would have been possible only by the connivance of various
conspirators. Let us see.
1. If advantage were to be taken of the relaxation of precautions it
would plainly be but for one purpose, to increase the number or the
excellence of favorable results, or both. But neither the number nor the
excellence of favorable results was enhanced. On the contrary, not at
once, but by a general though irregular decline, the results
deteriorated. The last 120 experiments of the period covered by the book
brought about half again as many complete Failures as the first 120 had
done. Mr. Sinclair reminds us that “Series No. 6 which was carefully
sealed up, produced 4 complete Successes, 5 Partial Successes, and no
Failures; whereas Series 21, which was not put in envelopes at all,
produced no complete Successes, 3 Partial Successes, and 6 Failures.”
The declension, which has been noted in experiments with other persons,
continued, in irregular fashion, after the period of the book. We have
already noted that the worst consecutive run of 27 experiments during
that last period yielded 19 Failures, while the worst consecutive run of
experiments during the period of the book yielded but 10 Failures. Nor
is there ever again, after precautions were relaxed, a single
consecutive run of seven experiments with quite such astounding results
as those of the first seven experiments of all, with “Bob,” at some
thirty miles distance in an air-line. Hence the percipient took no
advantage of the relaxation of conditions, or she did so to make her
work poorer on the average than it had been, which is against human
nature and practically inconceivable.
2. It was almost silly to go further after fixing the fact that the
opening up of opportunities for improving results by clandestine means
was followed not by improvement but deterioration of results. But an
examination was made to see whether the drawings underwent any
modification such as would rather be expected from the introduction of a
new causative factor. None; they continued to express in seemingly the
same proportions, some the shape, some the idea. Still in many cases
they were unrecognizable as any namable object, yet when compared with
the original, showed more or less of its marked characteristics.
3. We even went so far as to compare the most of the later drawings with
what could be seen of them folded and in envelopes, but unenclosed in
opaque paper, when held up to the light. To be sure, Mrs. Sinclair had
been accustomed to subdue the light, to lie with closed eyes in such a
position that only the ceiling would have been visible had they been
open, and to hold the envelope, or after the envelope itself was
discarded, the paper in her hand lying on her solar plexus, all of which
is an arrangement ill-adapted to “peeking.” And, to be sure, Mr.
Sinclair would have been considerably surprised had he come in and found
a different situation. But our experiments were meant to test whether,
on the supposition that she did alter her procedure, her drawings were
such as would have been explained by what was seen, even accidentally,
through the folded paper held up to the light. Certainly, in that case,
there would have been signs of the selection of heavy lines which showed
through clearly, and some evidence of the effects from the paper being
doubled. The result of the tests was negative.
It is concluded, mainly on the basis of Section 1 above, but assisted by
Sections 2 and 3 were assistance necessary, that Mrs. Sinclair was as
honest when unwatched as when watched, since, had fraud been used, it
would have left traces. But, let me reiterate, I am favorable to any
proposition to take into account only the guarded experiments, or even
those guarded to an extent beyond cavil.
Would Involuntary Whispering Explain?
F. C. C. Hansen and Alfred Lehmann, Danish psychologists, in 1895
published a pamphlet of 60 pages entitled _Über Unwillkürliches
Flüstern_ (_On Involuntary Whispering_). This brochure reported
experiments by the authors which, they claimed, showed that the apparent
success in telepathic transmissions of numbers achieved under the
control of representatives of the S. P. R. and published in its
_Proceedings_ (Vols. VI and VIII) might not have been due to telepathy,
but to involuntary whispering with closed lips. Messrs. Hansen and
Lehmann sat between concave spherical mirrors so that the concentration
of sound, their heads occupying the foci, would presumably be an
equivalent for the hyperaesthesia of a _hypnotized_ “percipient.” Each
in turn acted as agent, to see if figures could be conveyed by
“involuntary whispering,” and seemed to have a large degree of success.
How it is possible to test whether audible whispering can be produced
with closed lips and do so without the exercise of volition is something
of a mystery. And how they could be certain that some factor of
telepathy did not enter into their own experiments is not clear.[26] But
Professor Sidgwick, who five years before Hansen and Lehmann’s pamphlet
had considered and discussed the possibility of “unconscious
whispering,”[27] later instituted experiments of his own and concluded
that something in this direction was possible. But he, William James and
others thoroughly riddled the Hansen and Lehmann dream that perhaps they
had explained the published S. P. R. series of experiments for the
transfer of numbers. For one thing, a part of the experiments had been
with the parties in different rooms. And the notion that when the
voluntarily involuntary whisper[28] of a digit was misheard, a digit
whose name somewhat resembled was most likely to be selected by the
agent, was riddled too, so far as it applied to the English experiments.
The Danish gentlemen had never claimed that their explanatory theory was
proved, but only that it was probable. Later they quite frankly
acknowledged that the Sidgwick and James “experiments and computations”
had weakened even its probability.
Since their pamphlet had attracted much and widespread interest, as it
deserved to do, and since if they could establish or even strengthen the
probability of their theory it would mean a restoration and enhancement
of their prestige, set back by the counter-strokes of Sidgwick, James,
Schiller and others, it would seem that the inducement not to stop
short, but to go on with the experimentation would be almost
irresistible. But they either did stop there or their results were
disappointing, for nothing more, so far as I can learn, was ever heard
from them on this subject.
Nevertheless, the possibility, especially on the part of a
hyperaesthetic percipient, of catching, to some extent, the sound of
unintended whispering by the agent stationed nearby, especially where
there is no guarantee that his lips are always closed, must be
admitted. This possibility has impressed some investigators, and
especially Herr Richard Baerwald, even beyond all logical grounds. The
named writer has said _also fort mit den Nahversuchen_ (so away with
near-experimentation)! I certainly agree that experiments for
telepathy should be made with sufficient space between agent and
percipient to make the suggestion that there may have been some
perception of involuntary whispering manifestly incredible and absurd.
Such was Mrs. Sinclair’s success under such conditions as to make it
probable that if there had been many scores of experiments under the
same conditions a like staggering ratio of success would have been
maintained. Nevertheless, I must maintain that the involuntary
whispering theory fails to touch many of the Sinclair experiments
attended with one or another degree of success, considering their
nature and the peculiar character of the percipient drawings.
In the first place, let me observe that where the experiments were to
transfer numbers the range of choice on the part of the percipient,
endeavoring to interpret any faintly heard indications by the posited
involuntary whispering, was strictly limited. If the agent were to
choose a figure from one to naught inclusive, the percipient’s range for
guessing would be but ten digits. If the agent was to choose some figure
from one to ninety-nine inclusive, the range for guessing would of
course be greater, yet more limited than at first appears to be the
case. There would be the ten digits, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen,
fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, and in addition only combinations
from among the foregoing or made up of a digit with “teen” or “ty”
added. But where the agent drew whatever he pleased, generally an
object, his range was unlimited, and the task of the percipient
interpreting any indications by involuntary whispering would be much
more difficult. But still it would be theoretically possible. So we turn
to the next and overwhelming point.
Whenever the agent’s drawing was one which could be indicated by a name,
and the percipient’s result corresponded to the extent covered by the
name, it is easy to apply the theory of involuntary whispering if the
agent was near the percipient. Granting that this was the case (which
often, as will appear later, we cannot grant, since the facts forbid
it), it is easy theoretically to explain the response “Sailboat” to the
drawing of a sailboat. We have only to suppose that the agent was so
intently interested that, unknown to himself, he faintly whispered the
name, and that the percipient, having _ex hypothesi_, abnormal alertness
of hearing, caught the word, or enough of it so that she successfully
guessed the whole. Still easier is it to imagine the transmission of Y
in the series of January 28–29. The agent, being absorbed and desirous,
simply whispered “Y, Y, Y,” until the percipient got it. The reader may
pick for himself other plausible instances in Mr. Sinclair’s book, or
even from the materials furnished in this Bulletin, such as the helmet
experiment (Figs. 5, 5a). It is even conceivable that the agent’s eye,
flitting over the drawing of the peacock (Fig. 75) caused him to whisper
“long neck” and “spots” or “eyes” (Fig. 75a), although no spots appear
in this drawing and “peacock” is the word he would be expected to
whisper, if any. But every increasing complexity in the agent’s drawing,
which finds duplication in that of the percipient, every increasing
difficulty of defining the drawing by one or two words increases the
difficulty of the explanation. Take the remarkable correspondence
between Figures 7, 7a. The agent, it seems, would have to whisper the
following, or its equivalent: “Cross” (or “radiating figure”), “eight
arms” (or “many arms”), “arms not made of a single line but having
breadth,” “notches in the ends.” That is a lot for the agent to whisper,
and it appears improbable, but maybe it is “conceivable.”
A much-esteemed friend writes me: “Those willing to press the
unconscious whispering hypothesis to its extreme consequences need not
invariably postulate the _transmission direct_ of a word. They may go
further. Let us suppose that in an experiment at close quarters the name
thought of by the agent is ‘Napoleon,’ and that the percipient gets a
small island and the name ‘Helen.’ It is theoretically conceivable that,
nevertheless, the explanation is to be sought in involuntary whispering;
the name ‘Napoleon’ was perceived in a normal way (unconsciously) and
then in the percipient’s subconscious _transformed_ into an idea
associated with Napoleon’s name. I do not say this is my opinion, but
what I do say is that such an hypothesis is no more absurd than other
‘explanations’ put forward in the sphere of psychical research. Anyhow,
experiments at close quarters seem to be open to the grave objection
that some competent investigators reject them altogether—whatever we may
think of the grounds of such objection.”
Conceivable, yes, though hardly likely. When a medium for “automatic”
writing or speaking is in undoubted trance, she habitually makes direct
response to any intimations from without, and it is common to make it a
reproach that she makes direct and unblushing use of any information
inadvertently dropped by a person present. Why the subconscious should
act in so devious a fashion in another species of experimentation, why
it should either from device or some mechanism now set in motion
withhold the word “Napoleon” caught from the agent’s involuntary
whispering and set down instead words significantly associated with
Napoleon, is something of a puzzle. The trance-medium’s subconscious,
according to the explanation theory, is always eager to shine, and takes
advantage of every source of information or inference to improve its
product. Yet the subconsciousness of the percipient in experiments for
telepathy, having heard the word “Napoleon” involuntarily whispered,
deliberately avoids achieving a full success! If done at all, I should
judge this was consciously done, that the percipient consciously heard
and consciously avoided the word. And this is conceivable.
_But that there should be so many reproductions which strikingly
resemble the originals in shape, yet which do not represent the objects
which the agent drew, and have no more ideational connection with them
than can be traced between a cockroach and an archangel, or between a
violin and an eel, and yet that the explanation for the correspondences
should lurk in the involuntary whispering of the agent, I maintain is
practically inconceivable._ Between Figures 25 and 25a there is an
unmistakable close resemblance of shape, in each two lines forming an
inverted and sprawling V, with a swirl of lines in each forming a
similar shape of similar dimensions proceeding in the same direction
from the apex. But the percipient wholly misinterpreted the meaning of
what she was impressed to draw. What affinity is there between an active
volcano and a “big black beetle with horns”? Run through all the terms
you can think of which the agent could have involuntarily whispered
descriptive of his drawing, if he whispered anything—“volcano,”
“mountain,” “smoke,” “angle,” etc., and what could possibly have
suggested the impression which the percipient received? Look at Figures
118, 118a in the same series, and ask what the agent could have
whispered about his caterpillar which should suggest a shape
considerably resembling that of the caterpillar but intended to
represent a long narrow leaf with serrated edge. To be sure, a
caterpillar sometimes walks on a leaf, as a big black beetle may perhaps
light on the side of a volcano, but surely it will not be concluded that
the agent would have whispered so discursive a remark. Whispering
“caterpillar” would not result in “leaf,” and if “legs” had been
whispered, surely legs would have resulted and “many” would at least
have increased their number beyond the number of points in the
reproduction. View again Figures 108 and 108a in the same series with
the two foregoing. If the agent whispered anything, would it not have
been “hand,” solely first and principally? Imagine, if you please, that
he also whispered “thumb sticking up.” But a negro’s head is not a hand,
nor what the word “hand” would suggest, nor does a thumb ever grow out
of a negro’s head, yet out of this negro’s head rises that projection
curiously like a thumb. Neither would “hand” suggest a “pig’s head,” yet
the pig’s ear resembles the thumb, and the rest of the head carries a
certain amount of analogy with the hand. Again, “rabbit’s head” is
written, but little more than the ears are drawn, each a thumb-like
projection, and as in the other attempts at reproduction and in the
original, straight upward. There is no association of ideas between a
hand and a pig’s or rabbit’s head. Look at Figure 20, representing a
coiled snake, and read again the description of her impressions which
the percipient wrote. Between the snake and much of that description
there _is_ an association of ideas which we can follow. The whispered
word “snake” might naturally rouse a picture of the fright which the
apparition of a snake inflicts upon birds and small animals. While it
does not seem like either the conscious or subconscious, having heard
the word “snake,” which surely would have been the first and foremost
one to whisper, to suppress it and make a clear success a debatable one,
we admit that this is “conceivable.” But what about the “saucer of
milk”? The agent may theoretically be supposed to whisper “snake,”
“coiled,” “tail,” “head,” but hardly “saucer.” I may here be reminded
that some snakes drink milk, whether from a saucer or any other
receptacle. But in Mrs. Sinclair’s imagery it is a kitten that is
associated with the milk—a much more common combination. Leaving this
case, which is conceivably conceivable as the result of involuntary
whispering plus a strange effort to spoil a success in hand, let us turn
to the series of February 15th. Most of its members are to the point,
but we will mention only a few. What association of ideas is there
between a spigot and a dog’s leg (Figs. 96, 96a)? The name “Napoleon”
might indeed cause one to think of an island named St. Helena, or
another one named Elba, or a woman named Josephine. But why on earth
should the whispered word “spigot” cause one to think of a dog’s leg and
“front foot”? The association of ideas is not there, but the curiously
resembling particulars of shape are there. Whatever the agent may be
supposed to whisper in connection with the drawing shown in Figure 98,
surely “box” would be a part of it. And as surely, if the three marks of
the box were mentioned in the whispering they would have been called
“crosses,” and not “stars” or “sparks” as in the reproduction. And
“crosses” do not naturally suggest either stars or sparks. Figures 94
and 94a unquestionably have resemblances in general shape, in the two
pedals which are transformed into feet, in vertical lines within the
periphery. But why should the word “harp” bring a woman’s skirt and feet
peeping beneath it? Perhaps we shall be told it is because a woman plays
on a harp. A _woman_ does, yes, but not half a woman, and that half
standing so that her skirt takes the form of a harp. If conceivable that
“Napoleon” should rouse a vision of an island and induce the drawing of
an island, would the island take the shape of half of Napoleon’s body?
The mind, conscious or subconscious, does not act in that fashion.
Again, the percipient’s drawing which was the sequel to the agent’s
balloon (Figs. 95, 95a) is not by itself recognizable as a balloon, and
was not recognized by the percipient as a balloon, for she wrote, as we
inadvertently neglected earlier to state, “Shines in sunlight, must be
metal, a scythe hanging among vines or strings.” The involuntarily
whispered word “balloon” would hardly, by any association of ideas, have
led to such a reaction; nor would the agent have whispered “half a
balloon” or “scythe.” But we _can_ understand how the agent’s eye may
have dwelt upon one side or half of the balloon and how his attention
may have wandered to the cords, with corresponding telepathic results.
See Figures 92, 92a. Here the analogies of form, although imperfect, are
nevertheless unmistakable, but what association of ideas could have led
from the involuntarily whispered word “chain” or “links,” to “eggs” and
“smoke,” or to “curls of something coming out of the end of an egg”? At
a later date the agent drew a mule’s head and neck, with breast-strap
crossing the lower part of his neck, forming a strip curving very
slightly up from the horizontal. The percipient’s drawing is of the head
and part of the neck of a cow, turned in the same direction. The long
ears of the mule have become the horns of the cow, and matching the
breast-strap of the mule there appears a narrow horizontally extended
parallelogram in front of the cow’s neck and extremity of its muzzle,
which last the percipient seemingly tries to explain by the script
“Cow’s head in ‘stock.’” But if the agent involuntarily whispered
“mule,” it would hardly suggest a cow, if he whispered “long ears,” it
should not have resulted in long horns, if “breast-strap” or “strap” or
“harness,” this would hardly bring as its reaction the narrow
parallelogram, which, whatever it is, is manifestly no part of a
harness. The resemblances in shape are distinct and unmistakable, but
they are incomprehensible as the result of overheard whispering. Or look
again at Figures 78, 78a. The percipient, especially in the first of her
two drawings, very nearly reproduces the original, but the barb of the
fishhook has become a tiny flower with a curving stem. The resemblance
in shape is exceedingly impressive, but what words could have been
whispered about a fishhook which by association of ideas led to the
flower?
So we might go on citing examples in the same category, which the
doctrine of transformation by association of ideas of words whispered
and heard utterly fails to explain. But the reader may find them for
himself, either in this Bulletin or from the wider range of
illustrations in _Mental Radio_.[29]