Fowler then came forward to Mrs. Smiley's left, while I returned to the
table. Taking both of Mrs. Fowler's hands in mine, and setting the toes
of my shoes upon hers, I awaited developments. At this moment, while
Fowler was pressing the psychic's imprisoned wrists, the cone banged
about most furiously, describing wide circles entirely out of Mrs.
Smiley's reach. This action was another perfectly convincing test of the
psychic's supernormal powers. As the same movement had taken place with
_each_ of us in control of the psychic, each was absolved from any
complicity in the matter; but I did not forget my further test. "Mrs.
Smiley," I said, "I want Mr. Fowler to return to his seat, and I want to
place my hand over your lips--or to muffle you in some way. _I must_
prove that you have nothing to do with the production of those voices.
Will you permit this test?"
"Certainly," she answered, with patient sweetness. "You may gag me in
any way you please. I am perfectly sure you can secure the proof you
want." Upon this hint I acted. Taking a large kerchief from my pocket, I
tied it tightly around her mouth, knotting it at the back, and then, in
growing excitement, challenged the ghostly voice: "Now, 'Wilbur,' let's
hear from you."
A moment later the voice came from the cone, but apparently very much
muffled and blurred. "You are not articulating well," I rather
sarcastically observed.
Instantly the voice came out clearly, more sharply than ever before.
"_I was fooling you!_" jeered "Wilbur."
We all applauded. "There, that's better," I said. "Your voice improved
wonderfully."
"Wilbur" chuckled with glee. "_I've taken a lozenge_," he whimsically
retorted, expressing a very human delight in our mystification.
Fowler then said: "Now let's consider this a moment, Garland. Suppose
Mrs. Smiley has been able to loosen the gag. How does she handle the
cone? We will suppose she is a marvellous ventriloquist. How does she
write on the pads on the table, and how does she whisk them away? You
see, it isn't the matter of one thing, but of all that has happened."
"Yes, I admit that everything points to an exercise of supernormal
force. It really looks, so far as anything in the dark can look, like
spirits, but I prefer to think Mrs. Smiley has the power to project her
will in some way."
"I don't see how we are going to escape the spirit hypothesis," replied
Fowler.
"'Mitchell,'" I said, addressing the phantom, "I want to examine that
gag, and I want to hold both hands of the psychic. Will you permit
that?"
There was no reply to this, and Fowler offered an explanation: "We had
that test at a previous sitting."
I explained to the invisible ones: "'Wilbur,' it is absolutely
essential that you should prove to me that your voice is not dependent
upon the vocal chords of the psychic. You see the importance of this, do
you not, Mrs. Smiley?"
"Indeed, I do," she earnestly answered, her voice sounding very faint
and muffled through the kerchief. "I am anxious for the test."
"Very well, then. Now I want you to sing a song, and while you are
singing I am going to insist on 'Wilbur's' speaking. Will you do that,
'Wilbur'?" The cone was drummed upon as if in vigorous promise of
success.
Mrs. Smiley sang, or rather hummed; but there was no response on the
part of the ghostly voices, and a moment later she called, faintly: "The
kerchief is slipping down, Mr. Garland."
I rose and went to her side. As I untied the kerchief, she said,
plaintively: "I am sorry we didn't get the voices. I am sure we can if
we try again. Please try again." And a vigorous drumming on the cone
seemed to second her plea.
However, it was getting very late, and I said: "I think we will postpone
further experiment to-night. What are your sensations now?"
"I am almost paralyzed, and still deaf, too, but that often happens. My
feet are as if they did not exist."
"But your mind is perfectly normal?"
"Yes, it seems to be."
Soon after this I returned to my seat; the cone was lifted high into the
air silently, broken apart, and then, with the small end jangling inside
the larger one, was carried over the table and back to the floor. It
fell with a bang that seemed final and decisive. "That is 'good-bye,'"
said Mrs. Smiley.
Upon lighting the gas we found our victim as before, sitting absolutely
as we had left her. The table edge was twenty-four inches from her
finger-tips. The place where the cone lay, which we had marked with
chalk when it was first drummed upon, was thirty-six inches from one
hand and forty inches from the other. But the most inexplicable of
all--the tangible, permanent record--was the seven sheets of paper which
were lying upon a couch six feet from Mrs. Smiley's left hand. _They
were all written upon legibly, and pinned together with a black pin,
which had been thrust through the writing._ "Wilbur" had scrawled his
name, Mrs. Fowler's father's name was signed to a message, and there
were other signatures unknown to any of us. The pencil was on the
carpet, forty inches from Mrs. Smiley's hand. The leaves of paper, at
the moment when they were grasped and lifted, were more than forty
inches from her finger-tips. How this was done I do not know: but of
this I am absolutely sure: the psychic did not remove them from the
table by means of her ordinary, material limbs. Barring the failure to
disassociate her voice from that of "Wilbur," she had met every demand
upon her. Her powers were truly magical. I cannot say I _saw_ the cone
move, but I have proven that the psychic did not surreptitiously touch
it or fraudulently write upon the papers during this sitting. I cannot
swear that Fowler was controlling his wife's hands while the cone was
floating (and while I held the psychic's imprisoned hands), but I
_believe_ he was. In short, barring the one sense of sight--an
all-important one, I admit--these happenings were convincing and fitted
in with phenomena which I had secured with other psychics.
Nevertheless, I was not satisfied. I wanted Brierly, or some other fifth
person, in the room, in order that _both_ of the psychic's hands could
be controlled at the same time that Mrs. Fowler's were secured. So long
as a single hand was left free, the doubter would be warranted in
questioning our results.
The next two or three sittings were partial failures--so much so that I
made no record of them. Possibly, conditions were not strict enough. At
any rate, the final and most conclusive sitting came three days later.
It was held in Fowler's house. We followed the conditions of the
previous sitting very closely--the same room, the same table, the same
fastenings as before.
There was present a friend of Fowler's, a young man who was possessed
of some psychic power. We will call him Frank. Fowler and I took entire
charge of the psychic, and her bonds were even more carefully nailed
than before. We began the seance, as before, by putting her to sleep.
Not long after "Maudie" spoke, saying: "_Mr. Mitchell wishes the thread
fastened to mama's hands in the way Mr. Garland desires._"
I fastened a strong thread to each wrist as I had done several times
before, passing the ends under the chair-arm in such wise that any
movement of the psychic would be plainly and instantly detected. We then
returned to our seats, and, though conditions seemed favorable, no
marked phenomena took place; the cone was lifted, it is true, but we
were used to this now, and accepted it as quite commonplace.
At six o'clock the voice of "Maudie" came: "_Please go down to supper.
Mr. Mitchell says he will be able to give you what you ask for after you
return._"
I did not ask to what he referred, but I had in mind the test to prove
the voices independent of the psychic's vocal organs, and at the dinner
we discussed methods by which this could be made clear.
"If they will let me put my hand over her mouth," I said to Fowler, "I
will be satisfied."
"Do you mean that you will believe in spirits?" he smilingly challenged
me.
"Oh, I won't go so far as to promise that, but I confess it would help
to prove their existence."
"We may be about to get something more conclusive than that."
"Let us fix our minds on two things: first, to get the writing, or at
least movement, with every hand controlled; and, second, the voices,
while one of us covers Mrs. Smiley's mouth with a hand."
"Very well," acquiesced Fowler. "But the unexpected is what usually
happens in these performances."
We were gone but twenty minutes, so eager were we for our demonstration.
We found everything quite as when we left: the psychic was asleep, the
fastenings undisturbed. Fowler and I regained our threads and resumed
our places at the sides of the table, while Frank and Mrs. Fowler sat
close together at the end opposite Mrs. Smiley. I ask the reader to
recall that the psychic's ankles were encircled with tape which was
nailed to the floor behind her chair. Two bands of tape, after being
sewn to her cuffs, had been tacked solidly to the chair, three strong
tacks were driven down through the hem of her dress, and, finally,
Fowler and I were holding the threads which, after encircling the
psychic's wrists, passed under the chair-arm.
And yet, in spite of all these bonds and precautions, the cone was
almost immediately lifted, and "Mitchell" spoke through it. In a deep,
clear, well-delivered, and decidedly masculine whisper, and with
stately periods, he promised the complete co-operation of the spirit
world in the great work to which I was devoting myself. He directed his
exhortation to me, as usual; and for the benefit of those who think the
spirits are always trivial or foolish, I wish to say that "Mitchell's"
remarks were dignified and very suggestive. He produced in my mind the
distinct impression of a serious man of seventy, ornate of rhetoric, but
never vague or wandering in his thought, and he never went outside the
circle of Mrs. Smiley's mind.
For fully a quarter of an hour he discussed with me the value of the
investigation which we were pursuing. "_I and my band_," he assured me,
"_are working as hard from our side as you are from yours, equally
intent upon opening up channels of communication between the two
worlds_." He solemnly urged me to proceed in this "_grand work_," and at
last said, "_Good-bye for the present_," and fell silent.
The cone was then deposited on the table, and "Maud" said: "_If Mr.
Garland and Mr. Fowler will go quietly up to mama's side, holding all
the time tightly to the threads, 'Mr. Mitchell' will do what Mr. Garland
so much desires. Please be very careful not to touch mama until I tell
you. Keep as far apart as you can as you go up to her. When you reach my
mama's side, you may put one hand on her head and one on her wrist.
'Mr. Mitchell' says please have Frank take Mrs. Fowler's hands, so that
every hand in the circle is accounted for._"
I was now very eager and very alert. I felt that at last, after many,
many requests and many trials, I was about to secure a clear, complete,
and satisfying demonstration. Surely no trickster would permit such
rigorous control as that toward which we were now invited. I was sorry
that Miller was not present to share with me the satisfaction of the
moment. My admiration went out toward this heroic little woman, who was
enduring so much pain and suspicion for the sake of science. "She
believes in herself," I thought. "If she succeeds, all honor to her."
Slowly we crept to her side, being careful to touch nothing until
directed by the voice of "Maud." At last the childish voice said: "_Mr.
Garland may put his right hand on top of mama's head and his left hand
on her wrist. Mr. Fowler may place his left hand above Mr. Garland's and
his right hand on mama's wrist. 'Mr. Mitchell' says he will then see if
the voices will not come._"
I then said aloud: "My right hand is on the psychic's head, my left is
on her wrist."
Fowler repeated: "My left hand is above Garland's right, which is on the
psychic's head, and my own right hand is on the right wrist of the
psychic. Now, 'Wilbur,' go ahead."
Our challenge was almost instantly caught up. While thus
double-safeguarding the psychic, the cone, which was resting on the
table a full yard away, rose with a sharp, metallic, scraping sound, and
remained in the air for fully half a minute, during which I called out,
sharply: "We are absolutely controlling the psychic; her hands are
motionless; Mrs. Fowler, be sure you are holding both of Frank's hands."
"I have both his hands in mine," she answered.
As the cone was gently returned to the carpet Fowler was moved to say:
"Garland, that was a supreme test of the psychic. She was absolutely not
concerned in any known way with that movement. Save for a curious
throbbing, wave-like motion in her scalp, she did not move. If she
lifted the horn, it was by the exercise of a force unrecognized by
science."
To this I was forced to agree. I here definitely declare that the
psychic was not concerned with the flight of the cone in any way known
to biology. If she produced the voices, they too must have been examples
of supernormal ventriloquism, for they came through the megaphone. Of
that I am as certain as one can be of an auditory impression.
A few moments later we returned to our seats, while "Wilbur" and
"Mitchell" and several other voices spoke to us. Fowler, now that I had
admitted telekinesis, wanted me to go further. "Is the psychic speaking
to us," he asked, "or are these voices independent of her?"
"An investigator is never satisfied," I answered. "I must have the
voices _through_ the cone while I am covering the psychic's mouth."
To this "Mitchell" replied: "_We are doing all we can, and we will yet
be able to meet every demand you make upon us._"
"I am anxious for conviction," I said. "I want to secure the voice of
the psychic and your voice at the same time, 'Mr. Mitchell.' Can you do
that for me?"
He seemed to hesitate, and at last said: "_We will try._" I perceived in
his tone a certain doubt and indecision. Again we were permitted to hold
the psychic's wrists, and, as before, the cone was lifted and drummed
upon as if to show its position high in the air; but no voices came.
Hidden forces seemed to be struggling for escape beneath our hands; the
woman's brain seemed a powerful dynamo. I could not rid myself of a
sense that there was an actual externalization of the psychic's nerve
force, and with this conviction I could well understand why the command
had so often been given not to touch her unbidden. Suppose the poor
naked "astral body" were abroad and a strong light were suddenly turned
upon it!
Now came on a singularly engrossing game of "hide-and-seek." Convinced
that Mrs. Smiley was innocent of any trick in the movement of the horn,
I tried every expedient to satisfy myself that "Wilbur's" voice was
independent of her own; but I did not succeed. Mrs. Smiley spoke
_almost_ at the same moment but never precisely synchronous with
Wilbur's whisper. She answered all my questions perfectly unconcerned
and unexcited, lending herself to my experiments. All in vain. At no
time did I succeed in getting "Wilbur's" voice at _precisely_ the same
moment with her own, though the whisper, following swiftly on her
speech, interjected remarks as if echoing her questions. There was
always an approximate interval between her voice and the spirit whisper.
This was to me very significant, and strengthened me in my belief that
the entire process, while inexplicable, was, after all, not the work of
spirits.
When the gas was lighted we found the cone had been placed on the table,
a distance of forty inches from the utmost reach of the psychic's hands.
Her feet were twenty-three inches from the nearest leg of the table. We
carefully examined the tapes which were sewed to her sleeves. They were
tied, and the doubled ends tacked precisely as described so many times,
and to remove the tacks we were forced to use a hammer. It is useless to
talk of a possible release of her arms during the phenomena of the cone.
As I was about to leave the house that night, Mrs. Smiley said: "I do
not feel able to sit any more for the present, Mr. Garland. I feel
myself growing weaker, and 'Mitchell' tells me I would better stop for
the present. I feel that my power belongs to the world, and I want to do
all I can to convince you of the truth of spiritualism, but I feel the
strain very greatly."
"I do not wonder at that," I responded, "and I cannot blame you for
demanding a rest. No one could have endured more uncomplainingly. You
have been a model subject, and we are deeply in your debt. I am sorry
Miller was not with us to-night; he would have been convinced of your
supernormal power at least. Have no fear of my report; for while I am
not convinced of the spirit hypothesis, I have found you honest and
patient and very brave. I thank you very sincerely for what you have
done."