CHAPTER I

METAPSYCHICAL PHENOMENA

_All rights reserved_

METAPSYCHICAL

PHENOMENA

METHODS AND OBSERVATIONS

BY J. MAXWELL

_Doctor of Medicine

Deputy-Attorney-General at the Court of Appeal, Bordeaux, France_

WITH A PREFACE BY CHARLES RICHET

_Member of the Academy of Medicine

Professor of Physiology in the Faculty of Medicine, Paris_

AND AN INTRODUCTION BY SIR OLIVER LODGE

_Also with a New Chapter containing_

‘A COMPLEX CASE,’ BY PROFESSOR RICHET

AND AN ACCOUNT OF

‘SOME RECENTLY OBSERVED PHENOMENA’

BY THE TRANSLATOR L. I. FINCH

LONDON

_DUCKWORTH and CO._

3 HENRIETTA STREET, W.C.

1905

NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR

The Translator has to thank sincerely a literary friend, a well-known

English clergyman, who has been kind enough to revise the translation,

and suggest many improvements.

INTRODUCTION

Asked by my friends in France to introduce the author, Dr. Maxwell,

to English readers, I willingly consented, for I have reason to know

that he is an earnest and indefatigable student of the phenomena

for the investigation of which the Society for Psychical Research

was constituted; and not only an earnest student, but a sane and

competent observer, with rather special qualifications for the

task. A gentleman of independent means, trained and practising as a

lawyer at Bordeaux, Deputy Attorney-General, in fact, at the Court

of Appeal, he supplemented his legal training by going through a

full six years’ medical curriculum, and graduated M.D. in order to

pursue psycho-physiological studies with more freedom, and to be

able to form a sounder and more instructed judgment on the strange

phenomena which came under his notice. Moreover, he was fortunate in

enlisting the services of one who appears to be singularly gifted in

the supernormal direction, an educated and interested friend, who is

anxious to preserve his anonymity, but is otherwise willing to give

every assistance in his power towards the production and elucidation of

the unusual things which occur in his presence and apparently through

his agency.

In all this they have been powerfully assisted by Professor Charles

Richet, the distinguished physiologist of Paris, whose name and fame

are almost as well known in this country as in his own, and who gave

the special evening lecture to the British Association on the occasion

of its semi-international meeting at Dover in 1899.

In France it so happens that these problems have been attacked chiefly

by biologists and medical men, whereas in this country they have

attracted the attention chiefly, though not exclusively, of physicists

and chemists among men of science. This gives a desirable diversity

to the point of view, and adds to the value of the work of the French

investigators. Another advantage they possess is that they have no

_arrière-pensée_ towards religion or the spiritual world. Frankly, I

expect they would confess themselves materialists, and would disclaim

all sympathy with the view of a number of enthusiasts in this country,

who have sought to make these ill-understood facts the basis for a kind

of religious cult in which faith is regarded as more important than

knowledge, and who contemn the attitude of scientific men, even of

those few who really seek to observe and understand the phenomena.

From Dr. Maxwell’s observations, so far, there arises no theory which

he feels to be in the least satisfactory: the facts are recorded as

observed, and though theoretical comments are sometimes attempted

in the text, they are admittedly tentative and inadequate: we know

nothing at present which will suffice to weld the whole together into

a comprehensive and comprehensible scheme. But for the theoretical

discussion of such phenomena the work of Mr. Myers on Human Personality

is of course far more thorough and ambitious than the semi-popular

treatment in the present book. And in the matter of history also, the

English reader, familiar with the writings of Mr. Andrew Lang and Mr.

Podmore, will not attribute much importance to the few historical

remarks of the present writer. He claims consideration as an observer

of exceptional ability and scrupulous fairness, and his work is

regarded with the greatest interest by workers in this field throughout

the world.

There is one thing which Dr. Maxwell does not do. He does not record

his facts according to the standard set up by the Society for Psychical

Research in this country: that is to say, he does not give a minute

account of all the details, nor does he relate the precautions taken,

nor seek to convince hostile critics that he has overlooked no

possibility, and made no mistakes. Discouraged by previous attempts and

failures in this direction, he has regarded the task as impossible, and

has not attempted it. He has satisfied himself with three things:—

1st. To train himself long and carefully as an observer;

2nd. To learn from, and be guided by, the phenomena as they occur,

without seeking unduly to coerce them;

3rd. To give a general account of the impression made upon him by

the facts as they appeared.

For the rest, he professes himself indifferent whether his assertions

meet with credence or not. He has done his best to test the phenomena

for himself, regarding them critically, and not at all in a spirit of

credulity; and he has endangered his reputation by undertaking what

he regards as a plain duty, that of setting down under his own name,

for the world to accept or reject as it pleases, a statement of the

experiences to which he has devoted so much time and attention, and of

the actuality of which, though he in no way professes to understand

them, he is profoundly convinced.

Equally convinced of their occurrence is Professor Richet, who has

had an opportunity of observing many of them, and he too regards them

from the same untheoretical and empirical point of view; but he has

explained his own attitude in a Preface to the French edition, as Dr.

Maxwell has explained his in ‘Preliminary Remarks,’—both of which are

here translated—so there is no need to say more; beyond this:—

The particular series of occurrences detailed in these pages I myself

have not witnessed. I may take an opportunity of seeing them before

long; but though that will increase my experience, it will not increase

my conviction that things like some of these can and do occur, and that

any other patient explorer who had the same advantages and similar

opportunity for observation, would undergo the same sort of experience,

that is to say, would receive the same sensory impressions, however he

might choose to interpret them.

That is what the scientific world has gradually to grow accustomed

to. These things happen under certain conditions, in the same sense

that more familiar things happen under ordinary conditions. What the

conditions are that determine the happening is for future theory to say.

Dr. Maxwell is convinced that such things can happen without anything

that can with any propriety whatever be called fraud; sometimes under

conditions so favourable for observation as to preclude the possibility

of deception of any kind. Some of them, as we know well, do also

frequently happen under fraudulent and semi-fraudulent conditions; but

those who take the easy line of assuming that hyper-ingenious fraud

and extravagant self-deception are sufficient to account for the whole

of the facts, will ultimately, I think, find themselves to have been

deceived by their own _a priori_ convictions. Nevertheless we may agree

that at present the Territory under exploration is not yet a scientific

State. We are in the pre-Newtonian, possibly the pre-Copernican, age

of this nascent science; and it is our duty to accumulate facts and

carefully record them, for a future Kepler to brood over.

What may be likened to the ‘Ptolemaic’ view of the phenomena seems

on the whole to be favoured by the French observers, viz. that they

all centre round living man, and represent an unexpected extension

of human faculty, an extension, as it were, of the motor and sensory

power of the body beyond its apparent boundary. That is undoubtedly the

first adit to be explored, and it may turn out to lead us in the right

direction; but it is premature even to guess what will be the ultimate

outcome of this extra branch of psychological and physiological study.

That sensory perception can extend to things out of contact with the

body is familiar enough, though it has not been recognised for the

senses of touch or taste. That motor activity should also extend into

a region beyond the customary range of muscular action is, as yet,

unrecognised by science. Nevertheless that is the appearance.

The phenomena which have most attracted the attention and maintained

the interest of the French observers, have been just those which

convey the above impression: that is to say, mechanical movements

without contact, production of intelligent noises, and either

visible, tangible, or luminous appearances which do not seem to be

hallucinatory. These constantly-asserted, and in a sense well-known,

and to some few people almost familiar, experiences, have with us been

usually spoken of as ‘physical or psycho-physical phenomena.’ In France

they have been called ‘psychical phenomena,’ but that name is evidently

not satisfactory, since that should apply to purely mental experiences.

To call them ‘occult phenomena’ is not distinctive, for everything

is occult until it is explained; and the business of science is to

contemplate the mixed mass of heterogeneous appearances, such as at

one time formed all that was known of Chemistry, for instance, or

Electricity, and evolve from them an ordered scheme of science.

To emphasise the fact that these occurrences are at present beyond the

scheme of orthodox psychology or psycho-physiology, in somewhat the

same way as the germ of what we now call Metaphysics was once placed

after, or considered as extra to, the course of orthodox Natural

Philosophy or Physics, Professor Richet has suggested that they be

styled ‘meta-psychical phenomena,’ and that the nascent branch of

science, which he and other pioneers are endeavouring to found, be

called for the present ‘Metapsychics.’ Dr. Maxwell concurs in this

comparatively novel term, and as there seems no serious objection to

it, the English version of Dr. Maxwell’s record will appear under this

title.

The book will be found for the most part eminently readable—rather

an unusual circumstance for a record of this kind—and the scrupulous

fairness with which the author has related everything he can think of

which tells against the genuineness of the phenomena, is highly to be

commended. Whatever may be thought of the evidence it is manifestly his

earnest wish never to make it appear to others better than it appears

to himself.

If critics attack the book, as they undoubtedly will, with the

objection that though it may contain a mass of well-attested assertions

by a competent and careful observer, yet his observations are set

down without the necessary details on which an outside critic can

judge how far the things really happened, and how far the observer was

deceived—let it be remembered that this is admitted. Dr. Maxwell’s

defence is, that to give such details as will satisfy a hostile critic

who was not actually present is impossible—in that I am disposed to

agree with him—he has therefore not attempted the task; and I admit,

though I cannot commend, his discretion.

It may be said that the attempt to give every detail necessarily

produces a dreary and overburdened narrative. So it does. Nevertheless

I must urge—as both in accordance with my own judgment of what is

fitting, and in loyalty to the high standard of evidence, and the more

stringent rules of testimony, inaugurated by the wise founders of the

Society for Psychical Research—that observers should always make an

effort to record precisely every detail of the circumstances of some at

least of these elusive and rare phenomena; so as to assist in enabling

a fair judgment to be formed by people who are not too inexperienced

in the conditions attending this class of observation, and at any rate

to add to the clearness of their apprehension of the events recorded.

The opportunities for research are not yet ended, however, and I may

be allowed to express a hope that in the future something of this kind

will yet be done, when the occasion is favourable, after a study of

such a record as that of the Sidgwick-Hodgson-Davy experiments in the

_Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research_, vol. iv. Our

gratitude to Dr. Maxwell would thus be still further increased.

And now, finally, I must not be understood as making myself responsible

for the contents of the book, nor for the interjected remarks, nor

for the translation. The author and translator must bear their own

responsibility. My share in the work is limited to expressing my

confidence in the good faith of Dr. Maxwell—in his impartiality

and competence,—and while congratulating him on the favourable

opportunities for investigation which have fallen to his lot, to

thank him, on behalf of English investigators, for the single-minded

pertinacity and strenuous devotion with which he has pursued this

difficult and still nebulous quest.

OLIVER LODGE.

PREFACE

There are books in which the author says so clearly and in such precise

terms what he has to say that any commentary weakens their import; and

a preface becomes superfluous, sometimes even prejudicial.

Dr. Maxwell’s work belongs to this category. The author, who has long

given himself up to psychology, has had the opportunity of seeing many

interesting things. He has observed everything with minute care; and

having well thought out the method of observation, the consequences,

and the nature itself of the phenomena, he lays bare his facts and

deducts therefrom a few simple ideas, fearlessly, honestly, _sine ira

nec studio_, before a public which he hopes to find impartial.

To this same public I address the short introduction, with which my

friend Dr. Maxwell kindly asked me to head this excellent work.

My advice to the reader may be summed up in a few words. He must take

up this book without prejudice. He must fear neither that which is new,

nor that which is unexpected. In other words, while preserving the most

scrupulous respect for the science of to-day, he must be thoroughly

convinced that this science, whatever measure of truth it may contain,

is nevertheless terribly incomplete.

Those imprudent people who busy themselves with ‘occult’ sciences are

accused of overthrowing Science, of destroying that bulwark which

thousands of toilers, at the cost of an immense universal effort, have

been occupied in constructing during the last three or four centuries.

This reproach seems to me rather unjust. No one is able to destroy a

scientific _fact_.

An electric current decomposes water into one volume of oxygen and two

of hydrogen. This is a fact which will be true in the eternal future,

just as it has been true in the eternal past. Ideas may perhaps change

on what it is expedient to call electric current, oxygen, hydrogen,

etc. It may be discovered that hydrogen is composed of fifty different

bodies, that oxygen is transformed into hydrogen, that the electric

current is a ponderable force or a luminous emission. No matter what

is going to be discovered, we shall never, in any case, prevent what

we call to-day an electric current from transforming, under certain

conditions of combined pressure and temperature, what we call water

into two gases, each having different properties, gases which are

emitted in volumetrical proportions of 2 to 1.

Therefore, there need be no fear, that the invasion of a new science

into the old will upset acquired data, and contradict what has been

established by savants.

Consequently psychical phenomena, however complicated, unforeseen, or

appalling we may now and then imagine them to be, will not subvert any

of those facts which form part of to-day’s classical sciences.

Astronomy and physiology, physics and mathematics, chemistry and

zoology, need not be afraid. They are intangible, and nothing will

injure the imposing assemblage of incontestable facts which constitute

them.

But notions, hitherto unknown, may be introduced, which, without

casting doubts upon pristine truths, may cause new ones to enter their

domain, and change, or even upset, our established notions of things.

The facts may be unforeseen, but they will never be contradictory.

The history of sciences teaches us, that their bulwarks have never been

overthrown by the inroad of a new science.

At one time no notion of tubercular infection existed. We now know

that it is transmitted by microbes. This is a new notion, teeming with

important conclusions, but it does not invalidate the clinical table of

pulmonary phthisis drawn up by physicians of other days. The discovery

of Hertzian waves has in nowise shaken Ampère’s laws. Newton’s and

Fresnel’s optics have not been changed into a tissue of errors because

Rœntgen rays and luminous vibrations are able to penetrate opaque

bodies. It appears that radium can throw out unremittingly, without

any appreciable chemical molecular phenomena, great quantities of

calorific energy; nevertheless, we may be quite sure, that the law of

conservation of energy and thermo-dynamic principles will remain as

true now as ever.

Likewise, if the facts called ‘occult’ become established, as seems

more and more probable, we need not feel anxious as to the fate of

classical science. New and unknown facts, however strange they may be,

will not do away with old established facts.

To take an example from Dr. Maxwell’s work, let us admit that the

phenomenon of _raps_—that is to say, sonorous vibrations in wood or

other substances—is a real phenomenon, and that, in certain cases,

there are sounds which no mechanical force known to us can explain,

would the science of physics be overthrown? It would be a new force

thrown out on to wood, etc., exercising its power on matter, but the

old forces would none the less preserve their activity, and it is even

likely that the transmission of vibrations by means of this new force

would be found to be in obedience to the same laws as those governing

the transmission of other vibrations;—the temperature, the pressure,

the density of air or wood would continue to exercise their usual

influence. There would be nothing new, save the existence of a force

until then unknown.

Now, is there any savant worthy of the name who can affirm, that there

are no forces, hitherto unknown, at work in the world?

However impregnable Science may be when establishing facts, it is

miserably subject to error when claiming to establish negations.

Here is a dilemma, which appears to me to be very conclusive in that

respect:—Either we know all Nature’s forces, or we do not. Now the

first alternative is so ridiculous, that it is really not worth while

refuting it. Our senses are so limited, so imperfect, that the world

slips away from them almost entirely. We may say it is owing to an

accident, that the magnet’s colossal force was discovered, and if

hazard had not placed iron beside the loadstone, we might have always

remained ignorant of the attraction which loadstone exercises upon

iron. Ten years ago no one suspected the existence of the Rœntgen rays.

Before photography, no one knew that light reduces salts of silver.

It is not twenty years since the Hertzian waves were discovered. The

property displayed by amber when rubbed was, until two hundred years

ago, all that was known of that immense force called electricity.

Question a savage—nay a fellah or a moujik—upon the forces of Nature!

He will not know even the tenth part of such forces as elementary

treatises on physics in 1905 will enumerate. It appears to me that the

savants of to-day, in respect to the savants of the future, stand in

the same inferiority as the moujiks to the professors of the college of

France.

Who then dare be so rash as to say that the treatises on physics in

2005 will but repeat what is to be found in the treatises of 1905? The

probability—the certainty, one might say—is that new scientific data

will shortly spring up out of the darkness, and that most powerful and

altogether unknown forces will be revealed. Our great-grandchildren

will be amazed at the blindness of our savants, who tacitly profess the

immobility of science.

If science has made such progress of late, it is precisely because

our predecessors were not afraid to make bold hypotheses, to suppose

new forces, demonstrating their reality by dint of patience and

perseverance. Our strict duty is to do likewise. The savant should be

a revolutionist, and fortunately the time is over when truth had to be

sought in a master’s book—_magister dixit_—be he Aristotle or Plato.

In politics we may be conservative or progressive; it is a question of

temperament. But when the research of truth is concerned we must be

resolutely and unreservedly revolutionary, and must consider classical

theories—even those which appear to be the most solid—as temporary

hypotheses, which we must incessantly check and incessantly strive to

overthrow. The Chinese believed that science had been fixed by their

ancestors’ sapience; this example contains food for meditation.

Moreover—and why not proclaim it loudly—all that science of which we

are so proud, is only knowledge of appearances. The real nature of

things baffles us. The innermost nature of laws governing matter,

whether living or inert, is inaccessible to our intelligence. A stone

tossed up into the air falls back again to the earth. Why? Newton

says through attraction proportional to bulk and distance. But this

law is only the statement of a fact; who understands that attractive

vibration, which makes the stone fall? The fall of a stone is such a

commonplace phenomenon, that it does not astonish us: but in reality

no human intelligence has ever understood it. It is usual, common,

accepted; but like all Nature’s phenomena without exception it is _not

understood_. After fecundation an egg becomes an embryon; we describe

as well as we can the phases of this phenomenon; but, in spite of

the most minute descriptions, have we understood the evolution of

that cellular protoplasm, which is transformed into a huge, living

being? What prodigy is at work in these segmentations? Why do these

granulations crowd together there? Why do they decay here to form again

elsewhere?

We live in the midst of phenomena and have no adequate knowledge of any

one of them. Even the simplest phenomenon is most mysterious. What does

the combination of hydrogen with oxygen mean? Who has even once been

thoroughly able to understand that word _combination_, annihilation

of the properties of two bodies by the creation of a third body

differing from the two first. How are we to understand that an atom is

indivisible; it is constituted of a particle of matter, yet—even in

thought—it cannot be divided!

Therefore it behoves the true savant to be very modest, yet very bold

at the same time: very modest, for our science is a mere trifle—Ἡ

ἀνθρωπίνη σοφία ὀλίγου τινος ἄξιά ἐστι, καί οὐδενός—very bold, for

the vast regions of worlds unknown lie open before him.

Audacity and prudence: such are the two qualities, in no wise

contradictory, of Dr. Maxwell’s book.

Whatever be the fate in store for his ideas—ideas based upon facts—we

may rest assured that the facts, which he has well observed, will

remain. I think I see here the lineaments of a new science—though only

a crude sketch so far.

Who knows but that physiology and physics may find herein some precious

elements of knowledge? Woe to the savants who think that the book of

Nature is closed, and that we puny men have nothing more to learn.

CHARLES RICHET.

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION BY SIR OLIVER LODGE, v

PREFACE BY PROFESSOR CHARLES RICHET, xv

PRELIMINARY REMARKS, 1

CHAP.

I. METHOD: 23

I. Material Conditions, 33

II. Composition of the Circle, 42

III. Methods of Operation, 48

IV. The Personification, 64

II. RAPS, 72

III. PARAKINESIS AND TELEKINESIS: 93

I. Parakinesis, 93

II. Telekinesis, 98

IV. LUMINOUS PHENOMENA, 129

V. PSYCHO-SENSORY AND INTELLECTUAL PHENOMENA: 180

I. Sensory Automatism, 181

II. Crystal Gazing, 184

III. Dreams, Telepathy, 205

IV. Telæsthesia, 211

V. A Complex Case by Professor Richet, 215

VI. Motor Automatism, 235

VII. Automatic Writing, 238

VIII. Phonetic and Mixed Automatisms, 251

IX. The Psychology of Automatism, 255

VI. SOME RECENTLY OBSERVED PSYCHICAL PHENOMENA.

By L. I. FINCH, 268

VII. FRAUD AND ERROR: 364

I. Fraud, 364

II. Error, 386

CONCLUSION, 392

APPENDICES, 398

PRELIMINARY REMARKS

I hesitated for a long time before deciding to publish the impressions

which ten years of psychical research have left me. These impressions

are so uncertain upon several points, that I wondered if it were worth

while expressing in book form the few and sparse conclusions I am

able to formulate. If, finally, I decide to publish my opinions, it

is because it seems incumbent upon me to do so. I am not blind to the

fact that my testimony is of very little importance; but however modest

it may be, it seems to me that it is my duty to offer this testimony,

such as it is, to those who have undertaken to submit to scientific

discipline the study of those phenomena which are, in appearance at

least, so rebellious to such discipline. It might have been more

convenient and advantageous for myself had I continued my researches

in peace and quiet. I do not try to proselytise, and it is really a

matter of indifference to me, whether my contemporaries share or do not

share my views. But the sight of a few brave men fighting the battle

alone is by no means a matter of indifference to me. There is a certain

cowardliness in believing their teachings, whilst allowing them to bear

all the brunt of the fray for upholding opinions, which require so much

courage to champion. To these brave spirits I dedicate my book.

I care naught for public opinion: not that I disdain it—on the

contrary, I have the greatest respect for its judgment—but I am not

addressing the public. The question I am studying is not ripe for the

public; or the case may be the other way about.

I address those brave men of whom I have just spoken, to let them know

I am of their mind, and that _my_ observations confirm theirs on many

points. I also address those who are seeking to establish the reality

of the curious phenomena, treated of in this book. I have tried to fill

a gap by showing them the best methods to adopt, in order to arrive at

appreciable results,—such results being far less difficult to obtain

than is commonly supposed.

A word about the method I have followed. I have purposely refrained

from giving a purely scientific aspect to my book, though I might have

done so had I chosen, for the usual scientific dressing is unsuitable

to the subject in hand. It seemed preferable to relate what I have

seen, leaving it to those for whom I write to believe me or not, as

they think fit.

I might have accumulated not a little testimony and considerable

external evidence, but to have done so would not have been the

means of convincing a single extra reader. Those, whom my simple

affirmation leaves sceptical, would not be convinced by reports signed

by witnesses, whose sincerity and competence are frequently called

into question. Neither did I wish to adopt the method followed by the

Agnélas, Milan, and Carqueiranne experimenters, in giving a detailed

report of all my sittings; this method too has its advantages and

disadvantages. However exhaustive a report may be, it is difficult to

indicate therein all the conditions of the experiment; oversights are

inevitable. Moreover, it would be useless to say that every precaution

had been taken against fraud, for in enumerating such precautions,

the omission of a single one would suffice to expose oneself to most

justifiable criticism. Probably that very precaution was elementary and

had been taken, or was considered useless and put aside deliberately;

nevertheless such circumstances would not escape criticism. We wish to

convince by pointing out the exact conditions of the experiment; but

those, whom we would most wish to convince, are the very persons least

prepared to judge of the conditions in which psychical experiences are

obtained. These are physicists and chemists; but living matter does not

react like inorganic matter or chemical substances.

I do not seek to convince these savants; my book is unassuming and

makes no pretence of having been written for them. If they in their

turn should be tempted to try for those effects which I have obtained,

the methods indicated will be easily accessible to them. It is in this

way they can be indirectly convinced, though to convince them is not my

present aim. Others are better qualified than I am to try their hand at

this most desirable but, for the moment, most difficult task.

Difficult! Ay, and for a thousand reasons. First of all because it is

the fashion of to-day to look upon these facts as unworthy of science.

I acknowledge taking a delicate pleasure in comparing the different

opinions which many young Savants (I beg the printer not to forget

a very big capital S) bring to bear upon their contemporaries. Here

is a man surrounded by deferential spectators: solemnly he hands a

paper-knife to a sleeping hysterical subject, and gravely invites him

to murder such or such an individual who is supposed to be where there

is really only an empty chair. When the patient springs forward to

carry out the suggestion, and strikes the chair with the paper-knife,

the lookers-on behold a scientific fact, according to classical

science. On the other hand, here is another man who, not a whit less

solemnly, makes longitudinal passes upon his subject, puts him to

sleep, and then tries to exteriorise the said subject’s sensibility;

but the onlookers in this case are not recognised as witnessing a

scientific fact! I have never been able to see wherein lies the

difference between these two experimenters, the one experimenting with

an hysterical subject more or less untrustworthy, the other examining a

phenomenon which, if it be true, may be observed without the necessity

of trusting oneself solely to the honesty of the individual asleep.

In fact there is a most intolerant clique among savants. Facts it

seems are of no importance when pointed out by those who stand beyond

the pale of official science. Unfortunately, psychical phenomena

cannot be as easily and readily demonstrated as the X-rays or wireless

telegraphy, incontestable facts which any one can prove to his entire

satisfaction. Therefore young savants rejoice in making an onslaught on

those who apply themselves to the study of these phenomena. It was the

same thing in olden times when budding theologians made their _débuts_

in the arena of theology against notorious arch-heretics, Arians,

Manicheans, or gnostics. _Nil novi sub sole._

* * * * *

I readily admit that many, who turn their attention to the curious

phenomena of which I am going to speak, frequently lay themselves

open to criticism. Sometimes they are not very strict concerning the

conditions under which their experiments are conducted: they trust

naïvely, and their conviction is quickly formed. I cannot too forcibly

beg them to be on their guard against premature assertions: may they

avoid justifying Montaigne’s saying, ‘L’imagination crée le cas.’ My

remark is more particularly addressed to occult, theosophical, and

spiritistic groups. The first-named follow an undesirable method.

Their manner of reasoning is not likely to bring them many adepts,

from among those who are given to thinking deeply. In ordinary logic,

analogy and correspondence have not the same importance as deduction

and induction. On the other hand it does not seem to me prudent to

consider the esoteric interpretation of the Hebrew writings as being

necessarily truth’s last word. I do not see why I should transfer a

belief in their exoteric assertions to a belief in their talmudistic or

kabbalistic commentaries. I can hardly believe that the Rabbis of the

middle ages, or their predecessors, Esdras’ contemporaries, had a more

correct notion of human nature than we have. Their errors in physics

are not valid security for their accuracy in metaphysics. Truth cannot

be usefully sought in the analysis of a very fine but very old book:

all occult speculations upon secret hebraic exegeses seem to me but

intellectual sport, to the results of which the words of Ecclesiastes

might well be applied: _Habel habalim vekol habel_.

I may pass the same criticism upon theosophists. The curious mystical

movement to which the teachings of Madame Blavatsky, Colonel Olcott,

and Mrs. Besant have given birth in Europe and in America has not yet

been arrested. Many cultured minds and refined intelligences have

allowed themselves to be led away by the neo-buddhistic evangile;

doubtless they find what they look for in the ‘Secret Doctrine’ or

in ‘Isis Unveiled.’ _Trahit sua quemque voluptas._ I cannot help

thinking that the Upanishads have no more a monopoly of truth than

the Bible has, and that every philosophy ought to hold fast to the

study of Nature if it wishes to live and progress. This is, moreover,

the advice of a man whom theosophists and occultists alike respect—I

mean Paracelsus—‘Man is here below to instruct himself in the light of

Nature.’

That is what spiritists claim to do. Their philosophy, to use the

term which they themselves employ to designate their doctrine, is

founded, they say, upon fact and experience. It is not a revelation,

contemporary with the splendour of Thebes or the pomp of Açoka’s

court, which gives the foundation to their dogmas. It is an everyday

revelation, a real, continuous, and permanent revelation. Their ideas

concerning our origin and destiny, their certitude of immortality

and the persistence of human individuality, are due to well-informed

witnesses. These are no less than the spirits of the dead, who come to

enlighten them and to tell them what is done in the hereafter.

I envy them their simple faith, but I do not altogether share it. I

am persuaded that our individuality has an infinitely longer period

given it for its evolution than one human existence. But it is not from

spiritistic seances that I have derived my belief; no, my belief is of

a philosophical kind, and is the result of pondering over what I know

of life, of nature, and of the extremely slow development of the human

species. It is true the knowledge I possess is limited, and my belief

wavers; yet the probabilities seem to me favourable to the persistence

of that mysterious centre of energy which we call individuality.

This opinion, however, has not been derived from spiritistic

communications: I think these have an origin other than that given them

by Allan Kardec’s disciples.

Naturally I am only speaking of my own personal experience; I do

not permit myself to pronounce as erroneous those convictions based

upon facts not seen by myself. Therefore I do not wish to say that

spiritists are always the victims of delusion; I can only say that the

messages, received by me and purporting to come from the other side of

the grave, have seemed to me to emanate from a different source.

At the same time, to be exact and sincere I ought to add that,

if my conviction has not been won, I have observed in one or two

circumstances certain facts which have left me most perplexed.

Unfortunately for spiritism, an objection, which seems to me

irrefutable, can be made to the spirits’ teaching. In all parts of

Europe, the ‘spirits’ vouch for reincarnation. Often they indicate

the moment they are going to reappear in a human body; and they

relate still more readily the past avatars of their followers.

On the contrary, in England the spirits assure us that there is

no reincarnation. The contradiction is formal, positive, and

irreconcilable. Those who are inclined to doubt the correctness of

what I affirm have only to glance through and compare the writings of

English and French spiritists; for example, those of Allan Kardec,

Denys, Delanne, and those of Stainton-Moses. How are we to form an

opinion worthy of acceptance? Who speak the truth? European spirits

or Anglo-Saxon spirits? Probably spiritistic messages do not emanate

from very well-informed witnesses. Such is the conclusion arrived at by

Aksakoff, one of the cleverest and most enlightened of spiritists. He

himself acknowledges that one is never certain of the identity of the

communicating intelligence at a spiritistic sitting.

Although I do not share the views of occultists, theosophists, and

spiritists, I can indeed say that their groups—at least those which I

have frequented—are composed of people worthy, sincere, and convinced.

Occultists and theosophists devote themselves perhaps more particularly

to the development of those mysterious faculties which, according to

them, exist in man, while spiritists are more inclined to call forth

communications from their spirit friends, but the anxious care of one

and all is the moral development of their groups.

Solicitude for the ethical culture of humanity is characteristic of

these mystic groups. Occultism and theosophy draw their recruits

more especially from intellectual centres; the circle of spiritism

is much wider. The simplicity of its teachings and methods attracts

those who shrink before the personal edification of a creed: for it

is a painful undertaking and a heavy task for each individual to

form his own philosophy. It is more convenient to accept indications

which are already made, and to believe affirmations which are—in

appearance—sincere and well informed. Long centuries of religious

discipline have accustomed the human mind to certain acts of faith, and

to shun all free discussion, as soon as there is any question of future

destinies. It is difficult to shake off this atavism.

This is what makes the success of spiritism; it comes at its appointed

time, and supplies a wide-felt need.

* * * * *

The psychological condition of society to-day is of an extremely

perturbed nature, as slight reflection will suffice to show. Much has

been said of the conflict between science and religion, but the truth

has not yet been sounded. It is no ordinary conflict which is now

taking place between science and revelation: it is a life-and-death

struggle. And it is easy to foresee which side will succumb.

It even seems as though the final death-struggles of Christian dogma

had already set in. What man, sincere and unbiased in his opinions,

could repeat to-day the famous _credo quia absurdum_? Are we not

insulting the Divinity—if He exists—when we refuse to make use of His

most precious gifts? when we abstain from applying the full force of

our intelligence and reason to the examination of our destiny and our

duties to ourselves and to others?

This abdication is nevertheless demanded of us—by Roman Catholicism

for example, which exacts unqualified adhesion to its dogmas, blind

belief in its Church’s teachings, blind belief in the affirmations of

its infallible pope. It seems to me inadmissible that the God of Roman

Catholics should approve of such indifference.

It is obvious that I do not wish to write a history of ecclesiastical

controversy. I have too much respect for others to allow myself to

attack what are still widely accepted creeds. My duty is but to

study the general aspect of revelation, and to draw therefrom such

conclusions as are necessary to my acquirements.

It is an easy study. The most enlightened intellects stand aloof from

revealed religions. I mean the majority, for there is still a small

minority which remains faithful to dying creeds.

Even the less cultivated intelligences are beginning to feel the

insufficiency of revelation. The Divinity’s incarnation and death,

in order to redeem a race so unworthy of such a sacrifice, begins to

astound them; they wonder at such solicitude for the inhabitants of one

of the least important spheres in the universe. They are also surprised

at the inexorable severity of a God who, before granting pardon to

mankind, demands his only son’s death; a God who, for the petty

trespasses of beings far removed from himself, demands an eternity of

suffering as chastisement for such ephemeral insults. All this fails

to satisfy those souls who are enamoured of truth and justice. These

dogmas give man a cosmical importance which he does not possess, and

imputes to God a susceptibility and cruelty altogether unworthy of the

Supreme Being.

We could easily find other examples; but I do not think it necessary to

bring them to bear upon my conclusion; a conclusion, moreover, which

is admitted by the clergy themselves, who complain unceasingly of

society’s growing indifference.

But is society really so indifferent? I do not think so. We find

indifference among the richer and more cultured classes, where some

give themselves up to pleasure, others to science, in reality each

one seeking only that which will amuse or interest him or herself;

but those who are without resources, those whom life molests and

wearies, those who are afraid at the idea of death and annihilation,

those who have need of some consolation, of some hope, those people

are not indifferent. If these forsake the churches and temples, it is

because they do not find therein what they are seeking. The spiritual

nourishment offered them has lost its savour; they ask for something

more substantial and less contestable.

Besides, even in the most highly cultured classes, this need begins to

make itself felt. Such men as Myers, Sidgwick, Gurney, to speak only

of the dead, took up the study of psychical phenomena with the desire

of finding therein the proof of a future life. Myers died after having

found—or thought he had found—the sought-for demonstration.

Professor Haeckel of Jéna drew up a philosophy for himself! His

materialistic monism is the outward expression of his belief: but this

is also ill-adapted to satisfy that longing, the extent and force of

which I have just touched upon.

* * * * *

Now spiritism lays claim to satisfying these longings; and it does

satisfy them, when only simple souls are concerned, simple souls who

do not dream of life’s complexities. The phenomena of spiritistic

seances—and these are real phenomena—are the miracles which come to

confirm the spirits’ teachings. Why should they doubt?

Therefore the clients of spiritism are increasing in number with

extraordinary rapidity. The extent to which this doctrine is spreading

is one of the most curious things of the day. I believe we are

beholding the dawn of a veritable religion; a religion without a ritual

and without an organised clergy, and yet with assemblies and practices

which make it a veritable cult. As for me, I take a great interest in

these meetings; they give me the impression that I am assisting at the

birth of a religious movement called to a great destiny.

Will my anticipations be realised? The future alone can tell. My

opinion has been formed on impartial and disinterested observation.

Notwithstanding the sympathy that I feel for those groups which have

been kind enough to admit me into their midst, notwithstanding the

friendship which binds me to many of their members, I have never

wished to be of their propaganda, nor even to allow them to think that

I shared their views. I have always plainly told them that I was by

no means convinced of the constant intervention of spirits; I have

not concealed from them that other and, as I thought, more probable

explanations could be given to the phenomena they witnessed; perhaps

they have appreciated my frankness. In any case, I am very grateful for

the courtesy and kindliness with which they allowed me to observe the

phenomena at their sittings, to listen to their mediums’ teachings, and

to express my opinions, which are so unlike their own.

* * * * *

I am neither spiritist, nor theosophist, nor occultist. I do not

believe in occult sciences, nor in the supernatural, nor in miracles.

I believe we know as yet very little of the world we are living in,

and that we still have everything to learn. The cleverest men in all

epochs show an unconscious tendency to suppose that facts, which are

incompatible with their ideas, are supernatural or false. More modest

but also more cruel, our forefathers, the theologians and lawyers,

burnt sorcerers and magicians without accusing them of fraud: to-day

most of our savants, being more affirmative and less rigorous, accuse

mediums and thaumaturgists of fraud, but without condemning them to

the stake. In reality their state of mind is the same as that of the

ancient exorcists; they have the same intolerance, and the different

treatment meted out to their subjects is only due to the progressive

improvement in manners and customs.

Even those savants who are the most interested in psychical

research are afraid of confessing their curiosity. It requires the

broad-mindedness of a Crookes or a Lodge, of a Duclaux or a Richet,

of a Rochas or a Lombroso to dare to take a stand and openly show an

interest in this field of research. Some day, however, these same

suspicious researches will be their experimenters’ best claim to fame.

The present attitude of official science towards medianic phenomena

is to be regretted; its scientific ‘cant’ has grievous results. The

history of the International Psychological Institute is instructive

in this respect. What a pity that such learned, remarkable, and

competent men, as Janet for example, should have shrunk from the

epithet ‘psychic’! The need for a _psychical_ institute existed, not a

psychological one, of which there are already enough.

It is precisely the attitude of respectable scientific circles which

appears to me a mistake, demanding rectification. I understand

perfectly and excuse this attitude. For so many incorrect things have

been affirmed, so many ridiculous practices have been recommended by

the leaders of the occult movement, that official representatives of

science must have felt indignant. Unfortunately no one except Richet

has ventured to do for the phenomena vouched for by occultists and

spiritists, what Charcot has done for the magnetisers’ allegations. No

doubt, this other Charcot will come when the time is ripe.

The preparatory work will have been done, and he need only resume the

experiments of Richet, Crookes, Lodge, Rochas, Ochorowicz, and many

others.

I class myself with these experimenters. Many of them are my friends,

and, if our manner of thinking be not quite the same, my ideas upon the

method to be used are much the same as theirs. And thus I find myself

quite naturally led to say what my ideas are.

I believe in the reality of certain phenomena which I have been able to

verify over and over again. I see no need to attribute these phenomena

to any supernatural intervention. I am inclined to think that they are

produced by some force existing within ourselves.

I believe also that these facts can be subjected to scientific

observation. I say observation and not experimentation, because I do

not think that it is yet possible to proceed on veritable experimental

lines. In order to experiment one must understand the conditions

necessary to produce a given result; now, in our case, we have a

most imperfect knowledge of the required conditions, which are,

nevertheless, necessary antecedents to the sought-for phenomena. We are

in the position of the astronomer who can put his eye to the telescope

and observe the firmament, but who cannot provoke the production of a

single celestial phenomenon.

My position is therefore very simple. It is that of an impartial

observer. The occult sciences and spiritism never aroused my curiosity,

and I was more than thirty years of age, when my attention was drawn

towards psychical phenomena. I did not even try to turn a table before

I was thirty-five, considering such facts as unworthy of serious

examination. It is only since 1892 that I have become interested in

these researches.

I cannot remember to-day how I was led to take up the study; it was not

abruptly. I am certain that no striking incident was ever responsible

for a sudden changing of my mind. As far as my recollection goes, I

think it was the chance perusal of some theosophical works, which

made me curious to know the extent of a mystical movement, whose

existence I had not even suspected. My discoveries astonished me, for

I never thought that mysticism could find adherents at the end of the

nineteenth century. The opening address pronounced by me at the Court

of Appeal at Limoges in 1893 was upon this subject.

This address brought me many correspondents, and I was led to

experiment myself. My first results were negative, and except a few

interesting experiments made at Limoges with a lady of that town—a

remarkable medium—and her husband, the phenomena which I observed were

not of a nature to convince me. In 1895 I went to l’Agnélas, and took

part in the experiments of MM. de Rochas, Dariex, Sabatier, de Gramont

and de Watteville. The report of these experiments has been published

in the _Annales des Sciences Psychiques_.

Surprised at these manifestations, I became filled with the desire to

investigate further; and soon afterwards curiosity prompted me to take

advantage of a leisure moment to resume the l’Agnélas experiments. In

1896 Eusapia Paladino was kind enough to spend a fortnight at my house

at Choisy, near Bordeaux. MM. de Rochas, Watteville, Gramont, Brincard,

and General Thomassin were present at all or some of these experiments.

The Attorney-General, M. Lefranc, my friend and chief, was also present

at one of our sittings. M. Béchade and a Bordeaux medium, Madame

Agullana, were also my guests. The results of these sittings have

been noted down by M. de Rochas in a small volume which has not been

made public. More and more interested, and desirous of investigating

still further what I had seen with Eusapia, I begged her to pay me

another visit. She consented, and returned in 1897, giving me another

fortnight, this time in my home at Bordeaux. The phenomena which my

friends and I obtained on that occasion were as demonstrative as before.

Eusapia is not the only medium with whom I have experimented. Madame

Agullana of Bordeaux, with her customary disinterestedness, has given

me many sittings: the results I obtained with her are of a different

order. I also brought twice to Bordeaux the young mediums of Agen,

where a previous opportunity had been given me of observing them; at

Agen their phenomena had won for their home the reputation of being

haunted. Lastly, I have found some remarkable mediums at Bordeaux,

among those who did me the honour of admitting me to their sittings.

I also came across a large number of mediums manifesting automatic

phenomena only; these, too, were interesting in their way, for they

enabled me to note and understand the difference between so-called

supernatural phenomena and phenomena which are but the expression of an

activity, which, in appearance at least, is extraneous to the ordinary

personality.

Finally, I have frequently come across fraud. This was instructive, and

I observed the fraudulent with patience and interest. The tricks of

voluntary fraud deserve to be known and studied, as one is then better

able to frustrate and checkmate them. Involuntary fraud—far more common

than voluntary fraud—is no less instructive, for it throws a vivid

light upon the curious phenomena of automatic activity.

It is not always becoming to entertain one’s readers with

personalities, but I think I ought to infringe a little upon decorum,

in order to specify the state of mind in which I have pursued

my observations. From the very beginning I was struck by a fact

which seems beyond doubt. I saw that certain manifestations—to all

appearances supernormal—could only be studied with the assistance of

nervous and mental pathology. Therefore I went to school again, and for

six years I studied assiduously clinical medicine at the University of

Bordeaux. It is not within my present scope to write the panegyric of

the masters to whose teachings I listened, their names would seem out

of place in a book like this. But I may say that the interest which

I took in my medical studies became more lively, as I understood

their importance better and better. Doubtless the notions which I

have acquired are most rudimentary, but however unpretentious they

may be, they have enabled me to understand the mechanism of certain

manifestations, and to bring a more precise judgment to bear upon their

psychological value.

I am, therefore, an interested but impartial onlooker. It matters

little to me if a table or a chair moves of its own accord; I have no

particular desire to see them accomplish these movements. The only

interest, which I find in this fact, is its truth. Its reality alone

is of value to me, and I have applied myself to establish this without

any possible error. My unique preoccupation has been to make sure of

the reality of the phenomena which I observed. The pursuit of truth has

been my sole concern.

True, I sought it in my own way; for I preferred to build my conviction

upon a basis which would satisfy my intelligence and my reason, rather

than impose _a priori_ conditions which the experiment ought to satisfy

in order to convince me. I am ignorant of most of these conditions,

and I think that every one else is also. Consequently, I consider

it imprudent to establish beforehand the conditions under which the

experiments are to be made, in order to merit being recorded. It

might just happen, that one of the conditions thus laid down rendered

the experiment impracticable. Therefore I have observed rather than

experimented.

My manner of proceeding has been productive of many happy results; for

the curious phenomena which I have been able to observe are capricious;

they shun those who would force them, and offer themselves to those

who wait for them patiently. This behaviour, this spontaneity, is not

the least astonishing feature in this line of observation.

I have always thought that there was nothing of a supernatural order

in these phenomena. My conclusions have not changed; but let us

understand the meaning of this expression. I do not mean to say that

these phenomena are always in accordance with nature’s laws such as we

understand them to-day. I am certain that we are in the presence of an

unknown force; its manifestations do not seem to obey the same laws, as

those governing other forces more familiar to us; but I have no doubt

they obey some law, and perhaps the study of these phenomena will lead

us to the conception of laws more comprehensive than those already

known. Some future Newton will discover a more complete formula than

ours.

My position, therefore, seems to me to be well defined. I have held

myself aloof from those who denied upon bias, and also from those who

asserted too rashly. I have remained within the margin of science.

I have endeavoured to bring to bear upon my experiments methods of

scientific observation. I wish to go in neither for occultism, nor for

spiritism, nor for anything mysterious or supernatural. Many who know

me imperfectly may think that I have given reins to my imagination,

that I am an adept in theosophy, neo-martinism, or spiritism. Such is

not the case. I seek, and I have found-very little; others have been

more fortunate than I. Some day perhaps I shall have the same good

luck. But I shall not touch upon what others have done, save as an

accessory; I shall only speak of what I myself have seen and what I

myself think. My book is the statement of a witness—it has no other

signification.

One word in conclusion. A great number of my experiments have been

made with people who wish to preserve their incognito. I have never

been wanting in discretion when this was asked of me, and have never

disclosed the names of those who placed their confidence in me,

permitting me to experiment with them whilst desirous of remaining

unknown. I have sometimes found very remarkable mediums among these

anonymous experimenters. Some of my sittings with them have been truly

admirable on account of the clear, distinct nature of the phenomena

obtained. I beg these trusting friends to accept my heartfelt thanks.

May my book have the good fortune to contribute, however feebly,

towards removing the prejudices which keep away so many likely

experimenters from these studies and researches. These prejudices are

manifold: there is the fear of ridicule, the religious scruple, the

delusive dread of nervous or mental disease, the terror of an unknown

world peopled with strange, mysterious beings. But time will dispel

all this, and I believe that a day will come, when these facts—well

studied, well observed—will change our conceptions of things in a

way little dreamt of to-day. The sphere of ‘Psychical Science’ is

unmeasurable. A few pioneers only are exploring therein to-day; when

the land has been tilled and cultivated it will yield, I am sure, a

wonderful crop—the harvest will surpass the dreams of imagination.

But let those who, thanks to a scientific education, are particularly

well qualified to undertake these studies, cease to consider them

unworthy of their attention. In holding themselves aloof they commit

a mistake which they will bitterly regret some day. Allowing even

that the first experimenter may be guilty of mistakes, there will

always remain something out of the facts which they have observed.

Mistakes are unavoidable in the _début_ of a new science: the methods

are uncertain, and the novelty of the phenomena makes their analysis

difficult; time, labour in common, and experience will remedy these

inevitable inconveniences.

It would be very easy to give examples of the delay which scientific

prejudice has brought to bear upon scientific progress. This criticism

has already been very frequently and wittily made. Even those men,

whose discoveries have placed them at the head of the intellectual

movement of their generation, are not altogether free from blame,

yielding too often to the deplorable tendency of converting natural

laws into dogmas. They commit the same fault they object to in

theologians. Man has a wonderful aptitude for laying hold of his

neighbours’ faults and remaining blind to his own, and probably it will

be so for a long time to come. I would like to see science rid itself

for good and all of this theological habit of mind.

Science has only to think about facts. There should be no distinction

made between the various phenomena observed: it is not beseeming

to adopt certain facts, and refuse analysis to others, excluding

them on the ground, for example, that their examination belongs to

religion. Every natural fact ought to be studied, and, if it be real,

incorporated with the patrimony of knowledge. What matters its apparent

contradiction with the laws of nature, such as we understand them

to-day? These laws are not principles superior to our experience; they

are but the expression of our experience: our knowledge is very limited

and our experience is still young—it will grow, and its development

will bring the inevitable consequence of a corresponding modification

in our conception of nature. Therefore, let us not be too positive

of the accuracy of present ideas, and arbitrarily reject everything

which we think runs counter to them. Do not dogmatise; let our only

care be the impartial search for truth. Nothing will better enable us

to understand the surroundings in the midst of which we are evolving

than facts, which are apparently irreconcilable with current ideas:

these facts betoken that the ideas are erroneous or incomplete; their

attentive observation will reveal a more general formula which will

explain at one and the same time the new and the old. And thus from

antithesis to synthesis, more and more universal, our scientific ideas

will tend towards absolute truth.

Alas! how far away from this ideal do we seem to be to-day!

_Laboremus!_

CHAPTER I

METHOD

A French proverb says, ‘we must have eggs to make an omelette’: in

order to be able to study psychical phenomena we must have psychical

phenomena. This seems an elementary proposition, and yet it is the very

one we most readily overlook. I have already said why and wherefore.

Therefore, I deem it necessary to indicate at once the methods which

have appeared to me to give the most favourable results. Those of my

readers who may wish to verify the accuracy of my conclusions will, I

am sure, have the opportunity of doing so, if they operate as I have

done. First of all, I must warn them against caring for the world’s

opinion. They must not be afraid of exposing themselves to ridicule. No

doubt there is temptation to make a jest of the methods which I advise;

but I strongly recommend them to think about the result, and not about

the means used to obtain that result.

Psychical phenomena are of two orders: material and intellectual. The

methods best suited to the study of the first are not, in my opinion,

adapted to the study of the second. There is a distinction, therefore,

to be made in the beginning between these two categories of facts.

Physical phenomena are the least frequently met with; they include:—

1. Knockings or ‘raps’ on furniture, walls, floors, or on the

experimenters themselves.

2. Sundry noises other than raps.

3. Movements of objects without sufficient contact to explain the

movement produced. There is here a distinction to be made between (_a_)

movements produced without any contact whatever—_telekinesis_: _e.g._

the rising or sliding of a table or chair, the swaying of scales, etc.,

without their being touched; and (_b_) movements with contact, which is

insufficient to explain them—_parakinesis_: _e.g._ the levitation of a

table on which the experimenters lay their hands.

4. _Apports_: that is to say, the sudden appearance of objects—flowers,

sweets, stones, etc.—which have not been brought by any of the

assistants. This phenomenon—if it exists—supposes, in addition, the

following:—

5. Penetrability, or the passage of matter through matter.

6. Visual phenomena, which are themselves subdivided into:—

(_a_) Vision of the odic effluvium.

(_b_) Amorphous lights.

(_c_) Forms, either luminous or non-luminous.

(_d_) Lastly, the most complete phenomenon of all—the

materialisation of a form, human or otherwise, luminous or

not.

7. Phenomena which leave permanent traces, such as imprints.

8. Alteration in the weight of material objects or of certain people:

levitation.

9. Perceptible changes in the temperature: sensation of cold or heat;

spontaneous combustion.

10. Cool breezes.

Such are the chief psychical phenomena of the material order, which

have been pointed out by different experimenters. I have not verified

all of them: raps, telekinetic, and a few luminous phenomena are all I

have obtained in a thoroughly satisfactory manner.

Intellectual phenomena are those which imply the expression of a

thought. I will class them in the following manner:—

1. Typtology: the table, upon which the experimenters lay their hands,

leans to one side and recovers equilibrium by striking the ground.

2. Grammatology or spelt-out sentences. Various methods may be used.

The principal are:—

(_a_) Repeating the alphabet until a rap indicates the letter to be

retained;

(_b_) Pointing out the letters of the alphabet by means of a pencil

or stiletto, etc., until a rap indicates where to stop;

(_c_) Finally, the designation of the required letters by an

index-hand on a pivot fixed in the middle of a circle

composed of the alphabet, the index-hand moving with or

without contact.

3. Automatic writing: _immediate_, when the subject writes without the

intermedium of an instrument; _mediate_, when he uses an instrument,

such as a planchette, a wooden ball with handles fastened to it, a

basket, a hat, a stand, etc. In this case, several people can combine

their action by laying their hands all together upon the object to

which the pencil is attached.

4. Direct writing: _i.e._ writing which appears on slates, paper, etc.,

whether in or out of sight of the experimenters. If the letters seem to

be formed without the aid of a pencil we have _precipitated writing_.

5. Incarnation or ‘control’: the subject, when asleep, speaks in the

name of some entity or order, which _possesses_ him.

6. Direct voices: when words are heard, appearing to emanate from vocal

organs other than those of the persons present; some experimenters are

supposed to have conversed in this way with materialised forms.

7. Certain automatisms other than writing are observable: _e.g._

crystal- and mirror-gazing; audition in conch-formed shells; sundry

hallucinations, _telepathy_ and _telesthesia_: ‘the communication of

impressions of any kind from one mind to another, independently of the

recognised channels of sense’; perception at a distance of positive

impressions. These phenomena bring in their train _clairvoyance_

or _voyance_, and _lucidity_, expressions which are by no means

identical. Lucidity designates more particularly the faculty which

certain people have, in magnetic sleep or in somnambulism, of getting

exact impressions in a supernormal manner; clairvoyants or voyants are

those who see forms invisible to other people. _Clairaudience_ denotes

phenomena of the same kind in the auditory sphere.

I have paid scarcely any attention to these intellectual phenomena,

with the exception of automatic writing, crystal-gazing, typtology,

and ‘control.’ If I have taken greater interest in material than

in intellectual phenomena, it is because they struck me as being

more simple and easier to observe. This sentiment is not that of all

experimenters, and my colleagues of the London Society for Psychical

Research appear to be more affirmative in their conclusions, concerning

survival after death and communication with the dead, than in their

opinions on material phenomena. My personal experience has not led me

to the same ideas.

Undoubtedly, experiments demonstrating the persistence of human

personality after death would have an interest, in comparison with

which all others would be blotted out. But the analysis of phenomena

of this kind raises difficulties, which are much more complicated than

is the simple observation of a physical fact. Intellectual phenomena

always suppose some kind of motor automatism or other; of course, I

am not speaking of manifestations where the will of the sensitive

intervenes: this automatism is manifested by language, writing, or

the less elevated motor phenomena, typtology for example; it may also

be sensory and manifest itself in hallucinations of various kinds.

To understand the infinite complication of intellectual phenomena it

suffices to indicate the conditions under which they are observed.

Before admitting that the cause of the apparent automatism is foreign

to the sensitive, we must be able to eliminate with certitude the

action of his personal or impersonal conscience. To what extent does

the subliminal memory intervene?—a first difficulty which is scarcely

solvable!

But supposing it to be solved, the problem still remains almost intact.

If the knowledge of a positive fact, certainly unknown to the medium,

appears in his automatic communications, we must not thereupon conclude

that this knowledge is due to the intervention of a disincarnated

spirit. Telepathy may be able to explain it. Telepathy is, as we know,

the transmission of an idea, an impression, a psychical condition

of some kind or other from one person to another. We are altogether

ignorant of its laws, and nothing warrants the assertion, that if

telepathy is a fact—as appears most probable—it is therefore necessary

that any particular motive condition should exist in the agent. We may

suppose with just as much reason, that the existence of a souvenir in

one mind can be discovered and recognised by another, under conditions

solely depending on the mental state of the percipient. This is,

properly speaking, telesthesia. Now it is very difficult to prove

that the fact, of which automatism marks the knowledge, is unknown to

everybody. It is even impossible to prove it. But supposing this were

done, there would always remain the possibility of attributing the

communication to some being other than human: by admitting even the

existence of spiritual or immaterial beings distinct from ourselves,

nothing warrants us to affirm that such beings are our deceased

relatives or friends and not some facetious Kobolds.

Prediction and precognition, of which I have had proof, raise just

as complicated questions as the preceding ones. I confine myself to

recording without trying to explain these facts.

Therefore, I have given my preferences to the study of physical

phenomena, because in such I have not to consider the mental condition

of the subject, nor have I any of those delicate analyses to make,

the complexity of which I have just mentioned. I have to defend myself

against only two enemies, the fraud of others and my own illusions.

Now, I feel certain of never having been the victim of either. When,

for example, in the refreshment-room of a railway-station, in a

restaurant, in a tea-shop, I have observed, in broad daylight, a piece

of furniture change place of its own accord, I have a right to think

I am not in the presence of furniture especially arranged to produce

such effects. When the unforeseen nature of the experiment excludes the

hypothesis of preparation, when, by sight and touch, I make sure of

the absence of contact between the experimenters and the article which

is displaced, I have sufficient reasons for excluding the hypothesis

of fraud. When I measure the distance between the objects before and

after the displacement, I have also sufficient reason for excluding the

hypothesis of the illusion of my senses. If this right be refused me,

I should really like to know how any fact whatever can be observed. No

one is more convinced than myself of the frailty of our impressions

and the relativity of our perceptions; nevertheless, there must be

some way of perceiving a phenomenon in order to submit it to impartial

observation. Besides, the supposed reproach of illusion cannot be

applied in a general sense; to admit its justice would be to do away

with the very foundations of our sciences. It can only be applied to

me as an individual, and I willingly admit that it is impossible for

me to exculpate myself. In vain might I plead that I am persuaded of

the regularity of my perceptions, in vain assert that I observe no

tendency to illusion in myself, my testimony would remain none the less

suspected.

Consequently, I have but one reply for those who mistrust my

qualifications as an observer, and that is to invite them to take

the trouble of experimenting on their own account, using the methods

which I have adopted. If, _a priori_, they wish to lay down their own

conditions, they run the risk of receiving no appreciable results. When

they have obtained a few plain facts they will be able to vary the

conditions of experimentation, and satisfy the legitimate exigencies of

their own reason. That is what I did, and if I cannot solemnly affirm

the reality of the phenomena which I have observed, I can at all events

affirm my personal conviction of their existence. Maybe I am showing

an exaggerated mistrust of myself by thus only affirming my subjective

conviction, and in not venturing to affirm with a like energy the

objective reality of the things I have seen. Yet I trust no one will

blame me for my prudent reserve. What man can say he has never made a

mistake?

Only those, who put themselves in the same conditions which enabled me

to make my observations, have a right to criticise those observations.

To criticise without experience is unreasonable, and I recognise no

competence in those judges whose decisions are made without preliminary

information. For the rest, I have no wish to convert any one to my

ideas, and am indifferent—respectfully indifferent, if you like—to the

judgment which may be formed about me.

The methods recommended by diverse occult schools vary a great deal.

Theosophists do not reveal to the profane the means they use to

obtain supernormal facts. This discretion astonishes me, for the

theosophical society is filled with a lively spirit of propagandism.

It has its chief centre at Adyar, and lodges or branches everywhere.

The theosophical reviews venture to discuss the most elevated problems

of philosophy, and are not at all sparing of the most extraordinary

revelations of esoteric teaching; but they are remarkably sparing of

practical indications.

Theosophical phenomenonalism appears to derive inspiration from

Hindu-Yogism. I do not know the rules of training to which Yogis submit

themselves. The most severe abstinence seems to be recommended them.

Adepts are generally initiated by their Gurus or masters, and I have

not been fortunate enough to be the chela of an initiated.

The French occultists who are connected with Eliphas Levy by Papus (Dr.

Encausse), Guaita, Haven, Barlet, Sédir, recommend the practice of

magic. Descriptions of the necessary magical material will be found in

treatises by Papus and Eliphas Levy. The results which the Magi relate

having been obtained are so vague, that I have had no curiosity to put

into practice the strange proceedings of magic ceremonial recommended

by them. These have a serious inconvenience; namely, to strike the

imagination of credulous folk, and to facilitate auto-suggestion,

sensorial illusions, and hallucinations. To accomplish the rites,

moreover, it is necessary to dispose of rooms arranged in a particular

way, and to submit oneself to a severe diet for a certain time. This

makes it a complicated matter. Well, I must admit I was ashamed to try

these methods. I lacked the courage to don the cloak and the linen

robe, to trace the circle, and with lighted lamp and sword in hand

await visions about to appear in the smoke arising from the burning

incense. I own I was perhaps wrong not to try what are apparently the

less rational methods. Only caring for the result obtained, I certainly

would not have hesitated to resort to white or even black magic, had

I had any reason whatsoever to anticipate a positive result. In order

to obtain an observable fact, I would not have hesitated laying myself

open to ridicule. But the statements of experimenters of the occult

school seemed to imply a poverty of practical results. If the magi

of the present day had realised some operation easily accessible to

observation, they would not have omitted acquainting us of the fact

in one or other of their numerous reviews. Their silence struck me as

significant.

Moreover, the very essence even of Hermetic doctrines, openly professed

by occultists, is opposed to all such divulgence. The ancient doctrine

exacted initiation. The Rosicrucians, if I am not mistaken, could only

initiate an adept. Then again, they were allowed to use this privilege

only upon attaining a certain age, and when convinced of having found

a discreet and trustworthy pupil. All that publicity made to-day about

Hermetic sciences is the actual negation of their first precepts. These

indiscretions bring to my mind the words of one of my predecessors at

the Bordeaux Court [successor of the ancient Parliament of Guyenne],

the President Jean d’Espagnet, one of the three or four adepts who

pass for having unriddled the great arcanum. ‘_Facilia intellectu

suspecta habeat_,’ he says, speaking to the seeker, ‘_maxime in

mysticis nominibus et arcanis operationibus; in obscuris enim veritas

delitescit; nec unquam dolosius quam quum aperte, nec verius quam quum

obscure, scribunt philosophi_.’

Then, again, I had a decisive reason for choosing spiritistic methods:

they are not mysterious and they require no special subjective

preparation. They are simple—in appearance, at least—and can be easily

applied. Spiritists, and certain experimenters who have adopted

their methods without sharing their theories, affirm having obtained

surprising results. Therefore, I had nothing better to do than choose

these same methods. Because of their simplicity, and the multiplicity

of certified results, I considered it preferable to adopt the methods

of spiritists. I will, therefore, indicate how I experiment when I am

free to direct the sittings—which, unfortunately, is not always the

case.

I shall divide my indications into three wide categories: 1. Material

Conditions; 2. Composition of the Circle; 3. Methods of Operation.

I will add that these indications are not absolute.

I. MATERIAL CONDITIONS

Results are generally better, when operations are carried on in a room

whose dimensions do not exceed 15 to 20 square yards in area, and 12

to 15 feet in height. Smaller rooms may be used, but then the heat is

sometimes trying.

The _temperature of the room_ is an important factor. Heat, although it

may inconvenience the experimenters and the medium, appears to exercise

a favourable influence on the emission of the force. On the contrary,

cold is an element of non-success. Of course, I am speaking of the

temperature of the room. I would advise operating in a temperature of

from 20 to 25 degrees centigrade. It is decidedly necessary to avoid

having cold hands and feet.

In winter the seance-room should be thoroughly warmed and the fire

allowed to go out before the sitting, in case luminous phenomena should

be forthcoming.

I fancied I saw an advantage, especially for movements without contact,

in operating in an uncarpeted room. The carpet not only seems to be a

bad element generally, it also hinders the gliding movements of the

table, which are often only very slight.

As for exterior meteorological conditions, I have noticed that a dry

cold favours the production of psychical phenomena: it is, I believe,

the temperature _optima_. In any case, the dryness of the air is a very

good condition. I have noticed that the phenomena were more easily

obtained, when outside conditions favoured the production of numerous

sparks under the wheels of electric trams. I have often noticed this

coincidence between good sittings and the abundance of electric

sparks above-mentioned. I believe that the hygrometrical state of the

atmosphere is an important factor in the production of these sparks.

Rain and wind are, on the contrary, causes of failure.

The lighting of the seance-room is one of the most important

considerations in experimentation. Lamps and candles have the

inconvenience of taking some time to light, and they do not allow of

easy and rapid modification in the illumination of the room. Electric

lighting is the best system, because, disposing of several lamps,

it suffices to press a hand-lever in order to vary the quantity and

quality of the light.

Much criticism has been passed on the particular kind of experiments

I have undertaken to relate; one of the most frequently reiterated

criticisms is the reproach of always operating in obscurity. Nothing

can be more inexact. As far as I am concerned, I have never considered

as convincing telekinetic and parakinetic experiments made in

obscurity. Those movements without contact, which have brought about

my conviction, were obtained in full light, and more often in broad

daylight. Of course, it is evident that darkness is necessary for the

observation of luminous phenomena. To insist upon proving, in broad

daylight, the reality of the delicate phosphorescences which it has

been given me to observe, is a glaring contradiction.

On the other hand, there is no doubt that darkness is particularly

favourable to phenomena of a physical order. On several occasions I

have had the opportunity of recognising this fact under conditions,

which rendered the hypothesis of fraud extremely improbable. For

example, I have frequently obtained raps in the light, the number and

intensity of which increased when the light was extinguished. It is

the same with movements of objects without contact; but, I repeat,

obscurity is not necessary.

In a popular scientific review I once read a criticism of some

experiments in which I took part—a criticism written by a medical man

at Bruxelles, if my memory be correct. This doctor, a man of talent,

imagined that our conclusions were founded upon experiments conducted

solely in total obscurity. He committed an involuntary mistake.

Psychical phenomena can be obtained in broad daylight, and an

endeavour should be made to obtain them in this way. There has been

a general tendency to put out all lights in order to procure more

marked phenomena. This is a wrong way of proceeding, if one seeks

physical phenomena such as raps or movements without contact. We must

avoid working without light, for the habit of only being able to emit

the nervous force in obscurity is most easily acquired; and it is by

no means easy to suppress acquired habits. Eusapia Paladino had the

habit of demanding the gradual extinction of the light as her trance

deepened. In 1897 I was able to get through her the same phenomena,

with a certain amount of light and without the trance condition. I

still remember her astonishment at obtaining, in her waking state,

phenomena which, until then, she had obtained in the second state

only. Sleep and darkness were the conditions this remarkable medium

had become accustomed to, but they were not necessary. My first

recommendation, then, is to operate with light, with as much light as

possible.

I repeat, however, that sometimes the lessening of light is

desirable—often the medium demands it—even its total extinction is

sometimes necessary, as, for example, when sitting for luminous

phenomena. It is therefore well to have a series of graduated electric

lights more or less shaded. The simpler thing is to have a _Pigeon_

lamp. These petroleum lamps do not give much light, but the graduation

of the light is easily effected with them. Their great advantage is

this, when the electricity is turned off, their feeble light—quite

sufficient in certain cases—is capable of being gradually reduced until

total obscurity is obtained.

Coloured lights are often useful: I have not tried blue; yellow,

violet, and green are good; while red fatigues the eyes. For certain

series of experiments, I arranged my light so as to obtain white,

yellow, green, or red, according to wish: the first three give

sufficient illumination; it is not at all the same with red.

I strongly recommend avoiding the concentration of the luminous source.

To avoid that inconvenience, dull glass may be used, or the lamps and

lantern-sides may be covered with transparent paper—the quantity of

light is not sensibly diminished, and the sight is less tried.

The quality of the light employed did not seem to me to have any very

noticeable influence on the phenomena, yet I think my best results have

been obtained in the twilight hours, or in the afternoon between five

and seven o’clock, when the hard light of day had been tempered by

drawing the blinds together.

The most important question after that of illumination is the choice of

apparatus. I do not hesitate to say that the table is the best thing to

use. However, it must not be imagined this article is an indispensable

tool. Movements without contact can be obtained just as well with

chairs, baskets, hats, pieces of wood, linen, etc., but a table is more

convenient.

I have obtained equally good results with round or rectangular tables;

the latter have perhaps given me the finest experiences. Eusapia

generally uses rectangular tables; at l’Agnélas the table we used

weighed about 13 kilogrammes, at Choisy 6 or 7, at Bordeaux about 7 kg.

500 grs. When sitting for raps or movements without contact, I think it

is better to use lighter tables; for psychical force is mensurable:

some mediums incapable of moving a table weighing ten kilogrammes may

be able to obtain the levitation of a lighter one.

Some of my recent results lead me to think, there might be an advantage

in using tables made with a double top, a space of three or four inches

separating the two shelves. I have not experimented sufficiently to

be able to express an opinion on the advantages which, theoretically,

the double top seems to hold out. My impression is that the table acts

something like a condenser, in which case the purpose of a double top

can be understood.

The legs of the table should be separated. One-legged tables should

be discarded, and especially tripods, their supervision being so

very difficult. When the legs are thin and apart, observation is

untrammelled.

The colour of the table did not seem to me to exercise any influence

over the phenomena. I have been equally successful with black, white,

red, and brown tables. They may be polished or unpolished. I do not

think it matters what kind of wood they are made of, though I have

obtained my finest raps with an unpolished mahogany table.

I have noticed there is an advantage in covering the table with some

white material of light texture, which should not fall beyond the

edges of the table more than one or two inches, as it would otherwise

interfere with the experimenters’ reciprocal supervision. I do not know

why the presence of a cloth should be favourable to raps and movements;

at all events, it makes fraudulent raps and communicated movements much

more difficult.

It is well to curtain off one corner of the room in order to form a

cabinet. If the room be narrow enough, it is more convenient to stretch

the curtains at the end opposite the window—an arrangement I adopted at

Choisy.

The dimensions of the cabinet ought not to exceed 3 feet 9 inches to 4

feet 6 inches in width, 2 feet in depth, and 6 feet in height. I think

there is an advantage in partially closing in the top.

The curtains should be made of some material of light thin texture. It

is a mistake to think they should be of a dark colour; I have obtained

just as good results with plain white sheets as with dark curtains.

When studying movement of objects without contact, it is useful to

place in the cabinet light articles which produce a noise when shaken.

The common tambourine is very appropriate for this purpose, as are also

accordions, toy-pianos, harmonicas, hand-bells, etc.

The experimenters ought to sit upon wooden chairs with cane seats.

Upholstered chairs are not to be recommended.

An easy-chair should be placed in the cabinet for the medium, in case

he should wish to sit there. Mediums often express this wish, when in a

state of ‘trance’ or somnambulism. I give the name of ‘trance’ to the

sleep or torpor which is generally noticed in the sensitive, when the

phenomena attain their maximum intensity. I prefer the word ‘trance’

to any other expression, because the condition of the entranced medium

does not seem to me to be identical with that of the somnambulist;

and for the particular experiments with which I am dealing, it is of

interest to use terms which do not lead to confusion.

It is extremely useful to have a registering apparatus, which will

allow of making graphical descriptions of certain movements. Sir

William Crookes used this with success. I have not had the opportunity

of using any; for I had no such apparatus at hand when I experimented

with Eusapia Paladino. Later on, in a series of promising experiments,

the health of the medium with whom I was operating obliged me to cease

work, before I was able to make use of my registers.

I must, however, warn experimenters against the premature use of

any kind of apparatus whatever. One of the most curious features of

psychical phenomena is their apparent independence. The phenomena

direct us; they do not allow themselves to be easily led. Often they

seem to obey some will other than that of the sitters; and it is this

which forms the basis of spiritistic belief; but, though I have not

been able to grasp its laws, my impression is that this spontaneousness

is only apparent.

Sensitives, as a rule, exhibit great repugnance to mechanical

tests. This repugnance is one of the difficulties which repel the

best predisposed minds, and quickly leads them to the conclusion of

dishonesty, an unwarranted conclusion sometimes. I have come across

many mediums, who themselves offered me every help in their power

when devising test conditions. It is true these mediums are private

individuals of position and education, and are extremely anxious that

their psychic powers might not be made public in any way; for they do

not wish to expose themselves to the criticism and abuse which is so

lavishly bestowed upon mediums. This is particularly the case with

ladies.

Certainly, the attacks made on Eusapia Paladino by a badly informed

press and public are not encouraging to the more highly gifted mediums.

I owe it to Eusapia to say that, in my experiments with her, she has

always submitted to the exigencies of the most severe test conditions.

If she has sometimes given me suspicious phenomena, she did so only

under especial psychological conditions.[1]

[1] See Appendix B.

Though I have not employed any registering apparatus, I have used

instruments of weight and measure—particularly a letter-balance—an

article as convenient as it is easily employed. Each experimenter

can and ought to vary the conditions of experimentation according to

his wishes, within the limits which frequent experimentation will

very quickly give him. The results obtained must be definite. To be

satisfied with approximate results in such a matter would be absolute

loss of time.

In concluding my remarks about the paraphernalia of the seance-room,

I will give one more recommendation which may seem extraordinary,

but which, I have reason to believe, is useful; this is that there

should be no metal about the table: it is better to fasten it together

with pegs rather than with nails. This is not an absolute condition,

however, for I have obtained good results with nailed tables; yet my

impression is that the absence of all metal is an element of success.

Mediums are sometimes extremely sensitive to metals. Certain sensitives

complain of their rings, which seem to make them feel uncomfortable,

giving them, at times, a sensation of exaggerated heat. This brings to

mind certain facts met with from time to time in our neurotic cliniques.

II. COMPOSITION OF THE CIRCLE

The most important thing in the organisation of a series of experiments

is the choice of persons with whom we intend to operate. First of

all, it must be remembered that without a _medium_ no phenomena will

be forthcoming. The presence of some one, gifted with the power

of producing psychical phenomena, is perhaps the only necessary

and indispensable condition of their realisation. Therefore,

experimentation ought only to be seriously thought of when in

possession of that _rara avis_.

What, then, is a medium? By what distinguishing features can he be

recognised? It is very difficult to answer these questions.

I will give the name of ‘medium’ to any person capable of producing

any of the phenomena previously mentioned. I adopt the word ‘medium,’

because it is consecrated by custom and has received the precise

signification I mention. Some philosophers criticise this definition.

Their criticisms are, I think, misplaced. In metaphysics it is easy to

give definitions which, though elegant, are founded upon nothing. In

physics—I use this word in its etymological and primitive sense—a

being can only be defined by its properties. Definitions of this kind

state a fact, which is all we can require of them; they serve one

purpose, which is to avoid a long periphrase. Any other definition

would lead to the supposition, that the veritable knowledge of the

cause of the phenomena observed or of the properties recorded, was

known; now, it seems to me impossible to affirm the real cause of the

facts I have observed. I confine myself to stating them without forming

any hypotheses.

A medium is, therefore, a person in presence of whom ‘psychical’

phenomena can be observed. I use this word ‘psychical’ with regret,

because it implies a hypothesis.

As a rule it is necessary to experiment with mediums in order to

discover them. Their gifts are often latent, and only reveal themselves

if conditions favourable to their manifestation are supplied. This is

not always the case, and there is generally a chance of coming across

a medium when experimenting with persons in whose presence certain

irregular abnormal noises are heard, certain movements of furniture are

spontaneously produced. Such things are far from being as uncommon as

one would think. This assertion may seem paradoxical, but such is not

the case.

I have met with good mediums who were ignorant of the existence of

their faculties; yet, when I questioned them, I discovered that they

frequently heard little ‘raps’ upon the wood of their bed or upon their

night-table, without attaching any importance to it. Others have often

noticed the displacement of ordinary articles. Sometimes, but more

rarely, the facts observed are so intense that the house appears to

be haunted. We are often tempted to attribute to fraud the phenomena

of haunting. I believe accounts of this nature are not all false,

and I shall perhaps try and show this in a future work. We must not

reason like one of my friends, a man of vast erudition and superior

intelligence, who one day said to me: ‘A little girl from thirteen to

sixteen years old is always to be found in haunted houses—as soon as

the little girl is taken away the phenomena cease!’ Granted! Things

generally happen thus; only the little girl may not be the voluntary

cause of the phenomena: she may be the involuntary cause of them, a

medium in activity, producing supernormal phenomena of the nature of

those observed at spiritistic seances.

However, it must be admitted that it is very seldom we have the

opportunity of experimenting with these, so to speak, ready-made

mediums. As a rule we must try on patiently, until the longed-for

phœnix has been discovered.

At the same time, I ought to point out that the chances of encountering

a medium will be greater if we look for him among nervous people. It

seems to me that a certain impressionability—or nervous instability—is

a favourable condition for the effervescence of medianity. I use the

term ‘nervous instability’ for want of a better, but I do not use it

in an ill sense. Hysterical people do not always give clear, decided

phenomena; my best experiments have been made with those who were not

in any way hysterical.

Neurasthenics generally give no result whatever.

The nervous instability of which I speak is, therefore, neither

hysteria, nor neurasthenia, nor any nervous affection whatsoever. It

is a state of the nervous system such as appears in hypertension.

A lively impressionability, a delicate susceptibility, a certain

unequalness of temper, establish analogy between mediums and certain

neurotic patients; but they are to be distinguished from the latter

by the integrity of their sensibilities, of their reflex movements,

and of their visual range. As a rule, they have a lively intelligence,

are susceptible to attention, and do not lack energy; their artistic

sentiments are relatively developed; they are confiding and unreserved

with those who show them sympathy; are distrustful and irritable if not

treated gently. They pass easily from sadness to joy, and experience

an irresistible need of physical agitation: these two characteristics

are just the ones which made me choose the expression of nervous

instability.

I say instability, I do not say want of equilibrium. Many mediums whom

I have known have an extremely well-balanced mind, from a mental and

nervous point of view. My impression is that their nervous system is

even superior to that of the average.

This will, no doubt, surprise many well-informed people. Medical men

and psychologists, ill-disposed, as a rule, to the study of so-called

occult phenomena, have the habit of looking upon all mediums as

hysterics. It suffices to read the works of these savants to perceive

they have never been in the presence of veritable mediums. M. Paul

Janet, for example—in _L’Automatisme Psychologique_—propounds general

theories which cannot be applied to every case. It is a pity such an

eminent thinker should not have taken the trouble to make himself

better acquainted with the facts. Perhaps he has acted like the

celebrated Abbot Vertot.[2] According to M. Janet’s theories, all

mediums are on the high road to psychological disintegration: the

constituent parts of their personality are dissociated under the

influence of the weakening of the normal, personal activity.

[2] Vertot, an historian of the eighteenth century, failing to

receive, when he was ready for them, the documents upon which

he counted in order to write his _Siege of Rhodes_, finished

his work for all that; and when the documents were handed

to him, he contented himself with saying: ‘I am very sorry,

but I have finished my siege.’ He preferred leaving his work

imperfect to beginning it over again.

I am sure the individuals observed by M. Janet have been very

carefully studied by him; but I regret that my learned colleague has

not encountered a genuine medium. I share his opinion concerning most

spiritistic mediums; I have only found two interesting ones among them;

the hundred others which I have observed have only given me automatic

phenomena, more or less conscious; nearly all were the puppets of their

imagination. It is outside spiritistic circles that I have discovered

the best mediums.

M. Janet’s criticisms are only erroneous because they are too sweeping.

His conception of psychological disintegration is applicable to the

greater number of cases; but it does not apply to all. It is a very

different thing to study a crystal-vision, or an automatic writing

revealing nothing beyond the tenor of the sensitive’s memory, or

to observe a premonitory vision such as has been given me to do.

The indication of a future event cannot be explained by Janet’s

hypothesis. It reveals especial faculties that I can scarcely consider

pathological, unless I consider them as such in the same way as one

considers genius to be a sign of degeneration.

It is more reasonable to think that our nervous sensibility will become

more and more refined. It is rash to believe that the present human

type is the definite end of evolution. Our species is only one link in

the series of beings; the causes, which have led up to the improvement

of the human race, are still in activity, and it is logical to think

there are some natures above as well as below the average. The latter

represent ancestral types—a return to cast-off forms; the former are

perhaps precursors, possessing faculties which are abnormal to-day, but

which may become normal to-morrow.

I must pause, for I see I am forsaking the domain of facts for that of

hypotheses; I hasten to return thither. I have pointed out the signs

which permit us to suppose that a certain given person is a medium;

although these signs are not certain, they seem to me probable. In

reality, there is only one sure way of testing the faculties of a

medium: that is to experiment with him.

It has been observed that certain people do not obtain phenomena

when they operate alone, but obtain them, on the contrary, when with

another person. I myself have not had occasion to remark this fact,

but I have often noticed that the presence of certain people favoured

the attainment of results, while the presence of others troubled or

stopped it. I have no explanation to offer for this fact. Certainly

credulity or incredulity has no influence whatever on the results of an

experiment. I have seen people who were very little inclined to allow

themselves to be convinced make excellent auxiliaries. At the same

time, I have seen convinced spiritists make detestable co-operators.

It seems as if the faculty of giving forth this unknown force were

unequally distributed, that it constitutes a physical property of the

organism; that, in relation to it, some persons will be positive and

others negative, some will emit and others absorb it.

Hence the importance of the choice of co-operators—_of the composition

of the circle_. The number of experimenters is comparatively

unimportant; in principle, the more numerous the circle the greater

the force thrown out. But the presence of a large number of sitters is

a bad condition for observation; it also enhances the difficulty of

the realisation of, what spiritists call, the harmony of the circle.

But I ought to say that the finest luminous phenomena, which I have

seen, have been obtained when there were from fifteen to twenty people

present. On the other hand, I have had the opportunity of experimenting

several times alone with a non-professional medium, when I succeeded in

seeing faces which I recognised. Unfortunately, this medium—the only

one with whom I have obtained this phenomenon—wishes to retain his

incognito.

I think the most favourable number is from four to eight. I would urge

those who wish to try to experiment to compose their circle, as far as

possible, of an equal number of each sex; it is preferable to alternate

the masculine and feminine elements. These considerations lead us to

the examination of methods of operation, properly speaking.

III. METHODS OF OPERATION

Before discussing in detail those methods which appear to me to be

the surest, I think it well to make a few general recommendations.

The first relates to the state of mind in which it is necessary to

experiment. If interesting results are desired it is not advisable to

laugh, joke, or mock at those practices—however ridiculous they may

seem—with which I advise compliance. Act seriously, do not make light

of experiments, the exact import of which we are so ignorant of. I

think we should also avoid the other extreme, which we find in most

spiritistic groups, and which impart to these seances all the solemnity

of a religious service.

The foregoing might be considered a useless recommendation, which is

not the case. Spiritists, whose experience in such matters is not

to be disdained, insist on the necessity of harmony in the circle,

which is, they say, an essential condition of success. My personal

experience confirms their opinion on this point. I have often been

present at sittings which promised well in the beginning, and became

suddenly barren because of a futile discussion between the sitters.

The harmony recommended by spiritists is a kind of equilibrium between

the mental and emotional states of the sitters. Each sitter should be

animated by the same spirit—I do not use this word in its spiritistic

acceptation—and seek only the truth; for I take it for granted they

will operate as I have done. This unity of views, this uniformity of

desires, this harmony between brains and hearts ensures the synergy of

the forces which each member of the circle develops.

For there is no doubt that some kind of force is emitted, and that if

the medium throws off more than the other experimenters, an equilibrium

between him and the other sitters is nevertheless fairly quickly

established. The medium takes back from the latter the force he has

expended. The result is that after a successful seance, the sitters

are generally tired. I have noticed that certain persons give out this

force more readily than others, and this perhaps explains a medium’s

preference for certain experimenters as neighbours during the seance.

We must not attribute this choice to the greater facility, which

some people might offer for the execution of fraudulent phenomena.

I have frequently been thus chosen, and I beg my readers to believe

that I have a horror of fraud and imposture. I am also accustomed to

experimenting; I feel no emotion whatever; I keep cool and observe with

care. I am well acquainted with fraudulent methods, and I take good

care not to be imposed upon.

I repeat, it is a mistake to attribute to fraudulent intentions the

preference shown by the medium for such or such an experimenter. In

reality, it seems as though the medium, possessing an organism much

more sensitive than that of the majority, quickly recognises those

persons who the more easily throw off the force which he requires to

retrieve his losses. This more rapid emission may be the result of

habit, or may even depend upon individual constitution. Eusapia quickly

discerns people from whom she can easily draw the force she needs.

In the course of my first experiments with this medium, I found out

this vampirism to my cost. One evening, at the close of a sitting at

l’Agnélas, she was raised from the floor and carried on to the table

with her chair. I was not seated beside her, but, without releasing

her neighbours’ hands, she caught hold of mine while the phenomenon

was happening. I had a cramp in the stomach—I cannot better define my

sensation—and was almost overcome by exhaustion.

This, for me, extraordinary incident astonished me greatly, and since

then I have always carefully examined my sensations. This examination

has the fault of being purely subjective, but certain objective

realities have confirmed it. A special sensation accompanies the

emission of this nervous force, and with custom the passage of the

energy expended in a seance can be felt, just as the interruption of

its flow can be discerned. I have questioned several experimenters

about this, and their observations have often corroborated mine.

Therefore I think I may say that some kind of force is emitted by the

sitters, which is elaborated by the medium; that the latter restores

his losses at the expense of the experimenters, that certain people

more readily than others furnish the medium with the force he requires;

and that a certain sympathy of ideas, views, and sentiments between the

experimenters is favourable to the emission of this force.

I have no decided opinion upon the nature and origin of this force. I

think it is kindred to the energy which circulates in our nerves, and

which provokes the contraction of our muscles. Further on I shall give

the reasons which lead me to think so.

A second recommendation, no less important than the first, in my

opinion, is to treat seriously, and note carefully all communications

given through the table, through automatic writing or raps.

I now arrive at the examination of one of the most curious facts which

so-called ‘psychical’ experiences reveal. _To a certain extent_ the

manifesting force appears to be intelligent. Nothing permits me to

affirm or even to think, that the manifestations are due to an entity

distinct from that of the sitters. It is not my province to discuss

hypotheses: I confine myself to the relation of facts, and in the

course of my recital, I will point out in detail the circumstances,

which permit me to signalise the apparent individuality of the

manifesting force. As in such matters I have always thought it better

to preserve an expectant attitude, I have always been careful never

to slight the communications received through the phenomena. I have

imposed on myself the habit of treating these manifestations in the

manner desired by them. Every time I acted otherwise, the results were

indifferent.

Generally, the manifestations are attributed to a deceased person,

known or unknown to the sitters. This is not absolute, for I have

witnessed the table call itself the devil, or even pretend to be a man

still alive. Automatic writing has been signed by a Mahatma; but, as a

rule, it is the soul of a deceased person who claims to be manifesting.

This usual attribution explains spiritistic belief. I have good reason

for thinking, that the spirits of the dead have had nothing to do

with my experiments; but as, in reality, I am ignorant of the cause

of the phenomena which I have observed, I have politely accepted the

explanation these have given of themselves. It is thus we address

those whom we meet at table d’hôte, calling them by the name they give

themselves without concerning ourselves as to who they really are.

Therefore, whatever the changeable personification of the phenomena

may be, my advice is to accept it and to heed its observations. We must

not suppose the ideas expressed are due to the operators’ unconscious

movements; that may be true when the communications are obtained

through automatic writing, through a table or articles with which the

experimenters are in contact; but it is certainly not so when they are

obtained by raps given without any contact whatsoever, as I have been

able to prove many and many a time. As I confine myself to indicating

the results of my personal experience, it is perhaps enough to say

once more that the methods I recommend seem good to me. I have always

noticed the unhappy consequences of my refusal to take into account the

spontaneous advice of the personification.

The most frequently given advice concerns the placing of the

experimenters.

However, at the beginning of the sitting, the experimenters may seat

themselves as they please. I have already said it was generally

necessary to place the medium’s chair against the curtains of the

cabinet, and to alternate the sexes. The experimenters seated, the

experiment begins. It is a good plan to choose a manager. Nothing is

worse than the absence of direction. When every one wishes to direct

the proceedings, confusion reigns in the circle, and results are bad.

I have been present at seances where every one spoke at the same time,

each one demanding a different phenomenon. As a rule, on such occasions

nothing was received. Some one, therefore, ought to be appointed to

conduct the experiment, especially to converse with the personification

if it express a desire for conversation.

When the sitters wish to make a report of an experiment, it is

indispensable to intrust one of the experimenters with the task of

taking notes of the incidents as they occur. This experimenter ought to

form one of the circle.

It must not be thought that the circle can be modified with impunity.

My personal experience has shown me it is bad to frequently introduce

strangers into the circle. It should be arranged that a series of at

least six sittings will be held without modifying the group: that

no new experimenter will be admitted: and that none of the original

experimenters will miss even one seance. Then if at the end of six

sittings nothing has been obtained, my advice is to change the

circle, to eliminate certain elements, replacing them by others. It

is preferable to change the sitters one by one, and to make a few

experiments with the circle thus modified before making further changes.

If interesting results be forthcoming, and a desire be felt to show

them to other people, the new sitters must be introduced one by one,

and, I repeat, at intervals of three or four sittings. Otherwise there

would be a risk of compromising the success of the experiments.

The personification sometimes asks for the addition to the circle of

a certain person; it is then well to invite him to the sittings if

circumstances allow of it.

I now return to the seance which, I suppose, has begun. The sitters

put their hands on the table; it is not generally necessary to ‘form

the chain,’ that is to say, to establish contact between the sitters

by linking the little fingers. The hands in position, and the room

_well lighted up_, we wait. Talking or singing may be indulged in. The

emission of the voice, especially rythmical emission, is an excellent

condition: it is a good thing to play some music, organ-playing is

particularly effective. Why is the production of sonorous rythmical

waves favourable to these phenomena? I have no explanation to offer for

this fact, which I am not the only one to have observed.

At the end of a few minutes, the table often seems to be agitated.

If we are experimenting with spiritists or with people accustomed to

spiritistic proceedings, the table, raising itself, will be seen to

strike the floor with one of its legs. I advise asking the table if

it wishes to speak, and to arrange that two raps will mean ‘no,’ and

three raps ‘yes.’ Of course any other numbers or signs will do equally

well. The table, thus consulted, generally replies ‘yes.’ It can then

be asked, if the sitters are well placed: if it indicates any other

arrangement it is well to heed its advice.

We should then make known to the table what kind of results are

desired, and point out, particularly, that movements with contact,

failing to carry conviction, are undesirable. I have already said that

the personification—it is thus I call the entity, whatever it may be,

who claims to be manifesting—is generally very open to suggestion;

and it suffices to indicate, at the beginning of the experiment,

the objection that is made to movements with contact to be almost

completely rid of them.

There is no need to point out the object of the above suggestion. From

the special point of view of the observation of material facts, the

movement of a table upon which the hand rests means nothing at all.

I look upon these movements as loss of time; they are sufficiently

explained by our own unconscious and involuntary muscular contractions.

The phenomenon is only worthy of a serious man’s attention when it

is produced without contact, or without sufficient contact; as, for

example, when the table is completely raised from the ground, the

sitters’ hands resting on top of the table all the time. It is better

not to experiment than to lose one’s time in observing movements with

contact, unless, of course, we are seeking to analyse the tenor of

typtological messages.

I strongly recommend most carefully avoiding the production of

automatic movements. I have excellent reasons for believing, that the

agent which produces telekinetic phenomena only realises them, if it

has accumulated sufficient force to have acquired a certain given

tension. I have already pointed out the close connection—identity

perhaps—between this agent and that which causes our muscles to

contract; further on I shall indicate experiences which give weight to

this impression; at present it suffices to mention it, to understand

why I so earnestly recommend sitters to avoid yielding to more or less

subconscious movements from the very outset. If, as I think, the energy

which our nervous system elaborates is closely connected with that

energy, whose effects are seen in telekinetic phenomena, it is probable

that it will only produce these curious effects, in proportion as it

is able to acquire a sufficient tension for its emission. My knowledge

of physics is too rudimentary to allow me to draw precise comparisons

between this force and electricity. Nevertheless, it has seemed to

me to present some analogies with electricity, although the two are

certainly not identical; but the analogies are, perhaps, sufficient to

enable me by a comparison to make my meaning clearer.

An electrical conductor, charged with a given amount of electricity,

will have an electrical density of σ; if the amount increases, this

density will be σ´, and we will have σ´>σ; the tension in the

first case will be T = 2πσ², in the second T´ = 2πσ´²; T´ will be

greater than T.

The conductor will remain charged, as long as the tension does not

exceed the resistance which the surroundings offer to the emission

of electricity; as soon as this resistance becomes inferior to the

tension, there will be emission of electricity.

In the case of a medium, the charge of energy increases with time and

relative immobility. If by making unconscious or voluntary movements,

experimenters do not allow this energy to accumulate, it will never

reach the tension necessary for exteriorisation. There are, however,

some reservations to be made; for I have noticed, that when the tension

is sufficient, simulated or executed movements determine the production

of the motor phenomenon—just as if the execution of the movement

appeared to liberate a quantity of energy superior to that which was

utilised by the working of the muscle; the excess of force was then

apparently employed in the realisation of the telekinetic movement.

I have noticed that, every time we allow voluntary or involuntary

movements, telekinetic movements are difficult to obtain. One would

think, that the energy which determines them can only accomplish them

when it cannot find a normal outlet; it has a tendency to expend itself

normally in ordinary muscular movements: this tendency is one of the

most frequent causes of involuntary fraud, and the habitual occasion

of voluntary fraud. We must see that this tendency be checked: this

may call for some effort of attention at the beginning, but ‘habit is

second nature.’

Things being thus regulated, we wait. A first seance is generally

without apparent result, unless one has the good luck to meet with a

medium straight away—which is not always the case. Those who seriously

wish to understand these facts must have a great fund of indefatigable

patience. I can guarantee them success sooner or later, but I cannot

tell how many barren experiments may be made before that success

comes. They must not grow weary; let them progressively modify the

composition of the circle until the necessary element be met with.

They will then be rewarded for their trouble. I strongly advise them

to avoid professional mediums. Some of them are sincere, and I think

that Eusapia Paladino is of that number. It is true that sometimes

she produces suspicious phenomena, but it is puerile to conclude

therefrom that she constantly cheats. The suspicious cases I have

observed with Eusapia are interesting, if studied impartially. They

show the rôle which the subliminal conscience—impersonal or bound to a

second personality—plays in the phenomena, and give rise to attractive

psychological problems.

Spiritistic mediums, whose number is legion, form another category

with whom we should not experiment, except for purposes of especial

research. Some of these mediums are trustworthy, and one of them,

Madame Agullana of Bordeaux, has sometimes given me interesting

sittings. The phenomena I have observed with this medium differ

greatly from Eusapia’s; they are of an intellectual order, and raise

a very complicated problem. Madame Agullana’s medianity must not be

judged from seances with her groups. These seances have the religious

character of nearly all truly spiritistic meetings. It is difficult

there for an experimenter to observe at his ease; the curiosity of

those who seek only the objective demonstration of a fact may appear

impertinent and out of place at such meetings. The faithful have a

right to look upon such people as intruders. Convinced of the truth

of their doctrines, they ill brook the open discussion of them at

meetings, where discussion is not wanted. They prefer the discourses of

an entranced medium to the needless interference of the profane. Their

meetings, nearly always consecrated to the acquiring of communications,

have the serious defect of developing unconscious automatism in their

medium. For me this is a conclusive reason.

Madame Agullana, at some seances where only a few experimentalists took

part, gave proof of the possession of certain supernormal faculties,

which I have not observed in the same degree of intensity at the usual

sittings of her group. This medium is also entirely reliable, and of

praiseworthy disinterestedness. She never receives any remuneration—an

important consideration—for, mediums who take fees are more open to

suspicion.

My most convincing results have been obtained with persons unacquainted

with spiritism and ignorant of its practices. Once I discovered a

medium most unexpectedly. He sat down with me at a table, invited to

experiment for the first time in his life. He had scarcely seated

himself when violent knockings resounded on the floor; this person,

honourable, well-educated and intelligent, is one of the most

remarkable sensitives I have met with. But as he fears ridicule, has no

desire to be scoffed at in newspapers, and, moreover, dreads publicity

of any kind, he does not wish his name to be mentioned. These are the

results of the malevolent criticisms heaped upon experiments of this

nature.

I am sure the number of mediums is much more considerable than we

think; in a circle of from eight to ten people chosen under the

condition I have mentioned, it is seldom we do not find a medium.

Of whatever sex, to whatever social status he may belong, the medium

is a sensitive. This must never be forgotten; and we must never lose

sight of the fact, that the phenomena will be clearer and better in

proportion as the medium’s confidence and sympathy are won.

This statement will not surprise those who are familiar with hypnotic

experimentation, for they know how easy it is to induce sleep in a

person who lets himself go, and, on the contrary, how difficult it is

in one who resists or who mistrusts the operator. I am persuaded that

the impersonal strata of the consciousness play a rôle in psychical

phenomena similar to what they play in the phenomena of hypnotism.

Therefore, I insist on the necessity for due regard being paid to

the medium. I have had much practice, and in all mediums I have

met with extreme sensitiveness. Those who have come under the

refining influences of education, instruction, or rank, are the most

sensitive—‘touchy’; but this sensitiveness ought not to be interpreted

as a sign of degeneracy. Certain contemporary savants consider every

deviation from the normal state as a blemish! Such a way of thinking

implies a veritable _a priori_ judgment, a begging of the question,

which is detrimental to the true development of scientific thought. The

normal man is only a mean term; there are individuals who are inferior

to the mean, there are others who are superior to it. Nature knows

not equality. She offers us, everywhere, inequalities, discrepancies,

diversities. It is the illusory unity of our own personality, which

leads us to unify and to codify natural phenomena and even humanity

itself. It is one of the conditions of the organisation of our

Sciences, that they become intelligible only on condition of adapting

themselves to our particular form of understanding. Nothing authorises

our supposing that this form of understanding has any metaphysical

reality; it may only be a subjective condition of our perception.

It is by an analogous mental process, that we give reality to the

intellectual or physical type of the average man. Degeneracy, which is

often a sliding backwards, a relapse into inferior types, is a negative

deviation from the average man: genius is a positive variation. In

the same way, the nervous system of the imaginary average man is but

an abstraction; in reality, the sensibility of the nervous system

of the different human individualities varies immensely. A negative

variation will give beings who are less sensitive, less delicate

than those of the average type; a variation in the positive sense

will give individuals of a more sensitive and more delicate type. To

consider either as abnormal is only grammatically true: the former

are _infra_-normal, the latter are _supra_-normal. The first have not

reached the average level, the second have passed it.

Therefore, it is not astonishing that a more refined sensitivity of

the nervous system should have a correspondingly greater emotivity:

‘touchiness’ in itself is a function of emotivity. This seems to me

to explain a fact which appears certain—that the feelings of mediums

are very easily hurt. A discontented, irritated medium is a bad

instrument—as I have had occasion to prove with Eusapia and many other

mediums.

I have always noticed that discontent and moral discomfort, as well as

fatigue and physical discomfort in the medium brought about failure.

The advice I give is important to follow. Win the confidence and

sympathy of the medium by your own sympathy, your own deference, your

own loyalty. If you detect fraud, which seems voluntary to you, do not

hesitate—after the sitting and at the first favourable opportunity—to

tell him frankly your doubts and your impression. If you perceive an

involuntary fraud, put the medium on guard against himself, always

act toward him with sincerity, but at the same time with kindness and

courtesy.

As already pointed out, fatigue and physical discomfort produce the

same effects as moral discomfort. It is unwise therefore to experiment

with a sick medium. The results would be bad from an experimental

standpoint, and the medium’s health would suffer. Carefully avoid

experimenting too frequently with the medium. Even three sittings

a week are really more than is desirable. We may experiment three

times a week when operating with a medium in good form, and when the

experiments are not likely to last for more than two or three weeks.

It would be bad to experiment so often or for a longer period with

a young sensitive. Two sittings a week seem the safest number to

me; while only one ought to be made if the medium follows a trying

profession.

I have seen mediums become ill through experimenting too often. The

abuse of experimentation rapidly brings on nervous breakdown, and may

cause serious disorders, of which neurasthenia is the most frequent and

the _least serious_. Therefore I have made it an invariable rule to

experiment with non-professional mediums, only on condition that they

bind themselves to experiment with no other than my own circle as long

as our series of experiments lasts. I am as persuaded of the absolute

innocuousness of experiments prudently conducted, as I am positive of

the dangers of experimentation when frequent, prolonged, or conducted

by incompetent persons. I have no fear of assuming the responsibility

of the first, but for no consideration whatever would I endorse, even

indirectly, the second, and I cannot too strongly recommend the same

prudence to other experimenters.

A last recommendation remains to be made; experimentation with persons

of doubtful morality must be avoided. I have no need to enlarge upon

the many inconveniences to which such an imprudent collaboration may

expose experimenters.

To sum up the indications I have just given in perhaps too complete a

fashion, I will briefly recall to mind the conditions which have seemed

the best to me: sufficient light first of all—the personification

must not acquire the habit of operating in darkness, for the brighter

the light, the more convincing the experiment; a small room; a light

table with four legs, put together with wooden pegs rather than with

nails; a cabinet of soft thin curtains; the experimenters not to exceed

as a rule eight in number; the experimenters to agree to experiment

seriously, without turning into ridicule the practices to which they

submit themselves. It is a good plan to allow only one of their

circle to direct the seance, to converse with the personification, to

control the proceedings. They must try and keep up a spirit of good

understanding, and refrain from reciprocally accusing each other of

pushing the table—novices do this regularly. Discussion should be

relegated to the end, and should never be provoked during the sitting.

Finally, they should pay great attention to the susceptibility of the

medium—whoever he may be.

The greatest patience will be required; the circle should be modified

with prudence, and only after a certain number of sterile experiments.

IV. THE PERSONIFICATION

I think it will be useful to indicate what has seemed to me the best

way of treating the personification—for this point is important.

I give the name of ‘personification’ to the manifesting intelligence,

whatever this may be. As previously indicated, this intelligence, as a

rule, claims to be the soul of a deceased person. This is not absolute,

and the phenomena may personify God, the devil, angels, legendary

personages, fairies, etc. I need not say how far I am from believing in

the reality of the being thus manifesting, and I have, as I believe,

excellent reasons for doubting. I have noticed that the rôle played by

the personification varies with the composition of the circle. It will

always be the spirit of a dead or living person with spiritists. But

the rôles are more varied if the circle be composed of people who are

not spiritists; it then sometimes happens that the communications claim

to emanate from the sitters themselves. I am inclined to believe this

is the real origin of the communications, and that a sort of collective

consciousness is formed. I give my impression with the greatest

reserve, for, I repeat, I have no decided opinion upon the subject; but

the experiments I have made leave me that impression, in a general way.

This forms part of an—as yet—undeciphered chapter on the psychology of

crowds. I confess I have no explanation to give of the action which

such a collective consciousness appears to have upon matter; but this

difficulty seems to me less insurmountable than those attending the

spirit hypothesis. If we attribute the phenomena to a being distinct

from ourselves, having a will-power so much the more marked because

it emanates from a spiritual being more enlightened than ourselves, I

cannot understand the suggestibility of such a being. Now, I believe

the personification is, as a rule, extremely suggestible. I say ‘as

a rule,’ for there are occasions when it gives proof of remarkable

obstinacy: this is the exception, and I ought to say that when the

personification shows a decided will of its own, there is no struggling

against it. It is absolutely necessary to follow the directions it

gives, for, in such cases, there is a very good chance of obtaining

happy results, while certainly nothing will be obtained by spurning

those directions.

There are very few people among those unaccustomed to this kind of

experimentation, who have the courage to treat the personification as

it desires to be treated: this is a mistake. We must take a practical

view of the proceedings; we must lay aside all pride and vanity. I

am as well aware as any one of the comical aspect of a conversation

between a grave experimenter and a being non-existent, and I had much

difficulty in conquering the repugnance with which this manner of

proceeding inspired me. I saw therein a kind of jugglery unworthy of

a cultured intellect. Experience has clearly shown me I was wrong,

without, however, demonstrating the reality of the being personified.

Every time I looked upon the personification as something not to be

reckoned with, I have had bad or indifferent sittings.

This does not mean, that the results have always been in proportion

to the attention I have paid the personification. Far from it! The

personification is generally lavish of promises—excellent things in

their way, but it would be extremely naïve to put absolute faith

in what it says: we must trust only in ourselves. I do not know if

Socrates’ demon ever played him false: those of his species whom I

have interviewed struck me as being of doubtful sincerity. It would be

impossible to commit a greater imprudence than to put practical faith

in the advice of the personification, however good it may seem to have

always been.

My personal observations have generally brought me into connection with

personifications possessing more imagination and good-will than respect

for the truth. They have promised me marvellous demonstrations, which I

am still expecting, particularly complete materialisations. Perhaps I

am too hard to please, and ought to consider myself lucky to have seen

what I have seen. But we are never content with our lot, and Horace’s

time-honoured words are as true to-day as ever they were.[3]

[3] Qui fit, Mæcenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem

Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit, illa

Contentus vivat, laudet diversa sequentes?

Satyr, I. lib. i. 1.

If I strongly recommend people not to abandon the conduct of their

life or business affairs to the personification, I recommend just as

strongly treating the latter with the greatest possible attention. We

can only form hypotheses about its essence; and the scepticism which

my observations, taken as a whole, have instilled into me, may be

ill-founded; therefore it is better to treat it with the same courtesy

we show our fellow-experimenters. This attitude is prudent; it is

also the most profitable one. In practice, I have the same regard for

the personification as for the medium. I do not call it ‘dear spirit’

as spiritists do, but I find I do well to make it clearly understand

what I am seeking; whatever in reality the personification may be,

its co-operation seems to me to be indispensable. The resemblance

between the reaction of the personification and that of the subliminal

consciousness is so obvious, that I have no need to enlarge upon it.

In practice, the first manifestation of this—probably fictitious—being

will consist in a knocking on the floor with the leg of the table. It

is well to agree upon a code of signals. The simplest is two raps for

‘no,’ three for ‘yes,’ five for the alphabet.

At the beginning, it will be difficult to avoid these knockings. I

have already said it is desirable to discourage them and to induce

the personification to manifest itself otherwise. It would be well

to accept the typtological code of signals above mentioned for

the first conversations, but to abandon it as soon as it has been

clearly explained to the personification, that movements with contact

are unacceptable. I am, of course, speaking under the supposition

that telekinetic or parakinetic movements are desired. If the

personification, at the end of five or six seances of an hour each,

does not begin to produce the desired phenomena, the circle must

be modified in the manner already pointed out. These modifications

ought to be patiently continued, until a medium has been met with.

The personification might be asked to name the sitter who is to be

replaced, and, if possible, to designate his substitute. Such a

designation is often very useful. Once or twice I have seen the table

name persons whom, at the moment of the experiment, no one in our

midst had thought of—at least consciously. Various reasons prevented

the given indications from being followed, and the experiments were

discontinued.

Movements with contact can be eliminated by the process I have

mentioned; their elimination, made with the consent of the

personification, presents no inconvenience, unless it be done too

abruptly.

I have already said that the personification is generally very open

to suggestion. We must remember that this is a special kind of

suggestibility. In hypnotism a commanding tone of voice gives greater

force to the suggestion; it is not the same with the personification

in question, which shows itself rebellious to all imperative orders.

On the contrary, it readily yields to suggestions made with gentleness

and persistence. As a rule, I give the object I have in view, and my

reasons for setting aside all phenomena which can be explained by

unconscious muscular action. I repeat, I treat the personification

as a co-experimenter. It is seldom that, thus exhorted, it does not

willingly consent to abstain from phenomena devoid of interest, and

promise more demonstrative ones. I have already said too much faith

must not be put in such promises; at least nine out of ten experiments

will come to nothing, and will have to be worked out again on fresh

lines.

But the experimenter’s patience will not always be tried in vain.

Sooner or later he will meet with the indispensable medium; and his

observations will then be similar to mine.

The first supernormal phenomena are raps and oscillations without

contact. Sometimes the phenomenon, from the very outset, will manifest

itself with intensity; this is the exception; generally the noises

and movements, feeble in the beginning, will grow in intensity. As

soon as raps without contact have been obtained, certain signals must

be agreed upon. The simplest way, then, is to adopt the typtological

code of signals, _i.e._ two raps for ‘no,’ three for ‘yes,’ five for

the alphabet. The phenomena then become very interesting, for when the

raps are given without contact, the hypothesis of involuntary movements

becomes insufficient to explain them.

I have recently received very intelligent communications in this way.

We must not grow tired of having the words repeated. It often happens

that letters are left out, or that one letter is given instead of

another. This happens particularly with neighbouring letters. In

carefully noting down the letters a very clear sense will often be

found. For example, the raps will give MARTJN for Martin, HEORIETTE for

Henriette, etc. We must not give up as soon as the word seems to become

unintelligible. Wait until the sentence is finished, when it will

sometimes suddenly clear itself. It sometimes happens that the letters

are dictated backwards. When the sentence is incomprehensible, we

must begin all over again. Even in experiments whose aim is to obtain

material phenomena, we must not refuse to listen to demands for the

alphabet, for the personification will then often advise on the manner

of operating.

Very often the personification complains of too much light, and during

several sittings insists upon darkness. We must politely resist it, and

make it understand that psychical phenomena lose much of their value,

as soon as they cease to be visible. I never hesitate telling the

personification, that experiments of this kind are not convincing when

conducted in obscurity, since the good faith of the operators is then

open to suspicion, and, moreover, that phenomena can be obtained in

full light. These reasons often prevail on the personification not to

persist in asking for darkness.

In some cases, it is the personification itself who refuses to operate

in darkness. It is with personifications of this class that I have

obtained the finest results.

When the pseudo-entity asks one or other of the experimenters to leave

the circle, it is prudent to yield obedience to its behest, unless, for

various reasons, the required elimination be unacceptable. In that

case, it is as well to explain these reasons to the personification,

and then it rarely happens they are not accepted.

Such are the general rules which a fairly long experience has caused

me to adopt, and I have always had reason to be glad of having

followed them. In experiments conducted by me, I have never received

obscene or absurd communications of which certain people complain.

Reflecting, perhaps, my own state of mind, I have generally encountered

personifications with scientific and serious tendencies.

I have just exposed in detail, and perhaps too minutely, the

conclusions arrived at concerning the method of operation. I now

come to the indication of the results which I have obtained, and the

ascertainments I have been able to make.

I will examine in succession raps, movements without contact, luminous

phenomena, and finally, intellectual phenomena.