mentioned violent motions, especially when they are revolving, as is the
case with the Shamans of the Laplanders and the dancing Dervishes of the
East; self-inflicted wounds, such as the priests of Baal caused in order
to excite their power of divination, and long-continued imprisonment, as
illustrated in the well-known cases of Benvenuto Cellini and Silvio
Pellico. The latter was constantly tormented by sighs or suppressed
laughter which he heard in his dungeon; then by invisible hands pulling
at his dress, knocking down his books or trying to put out his light,
till he began seriously to suspect that he might be the victim of
invisible malignant powers. Fortunately all these phenomena disappeared
at break of day, and thus his vigorous mind, supported by true piety,
was enabled to keep his judgment uninjured.
Diseases of every kind are a fruitful source of visions and some are
rarely without them; but the character of visions differs according to
the nature of the affections. Persons who suffer with the liver have
melancholy, consumptive patients have cheerful visions. Epileptics often
see fearful spectres during their paroxysms, and persons bitten by mad
dogs see the animal that has caused their sufferings. The case of the
bookseller Nicolai in Berlin is well known; the disease of which he
suffered, is not only very common in some parts of Russia, but
productive of precisely the same symptoms. The patients experience first
a sensation of great despondency, followed by a period of profound
melancholy, during which they see themselves surrounded by a number of
persons, with whom they converse and quarrel, half conscious of their
own delusion and yet not able to master it wholly. They are generally
bled, whereupon the images become transparent and shrink into smaller
and smaller space, till they finally disappear entirely. Affections of
the heart and the subsequent unequal distribution of the blood through
the system are apt to produce peculiar sounds, which at times fashion
themselves into loud and harmonious pieces. The excitement usually
attendant upon specially fatal plagues and contagious diseases increases
the tendency which the latter naturally have to cause hallucinations.
During a plague in the reign of Justinian, men were seen walking through
the crowd and touching here and there a person; the latter were at once
attacked by the disease and invariably succumbed. Upon another such
occasion marks and spots appeared on the clothing of those who had
caught the contagion, as if made by invisible hands, the sufferers began
next to see a number of spectres and died in a short time. The same
symptoms have accompanied the cholera in modern times, and more than
once strange, utterly unknown persons were not only seen but heard, as
they were conversing with others; what they said was written down in
many cases, and proved to be predictions of approaching visits of the
dread disease to neighboring houses. A magic power of foresight seems in
these cases to be developed by the extreme excitement or deep anxiety,
but the unconscious clairvoyance assumes the form of persons outside of
their own mental sphere, within which they alone existed.
By far the most frequent causes of visions are, however, those of
psychical nature, like fixed ideas, intense passions, or deep-rooted
prejudices, and concealed misdeeds. When they are produced by such
causes they have often the appearance of having led to the commission of
great crimes. Thus Julian the Apostate, who had caused the image of his
guardian angel to be put upon all his coins and banners, naturally had
this form deeply impressed upon his mind. In the night before a decisive
battle, he saw, according to Ammianus Marcellinus, this protecting
genius in the act of turning away from him, and this vision made so deep
an impression upon his mind that he interpreted it as an omen of his
impending death. On the following day he fell in battle. The fearful
penalty inflicted upon Charles IX. by his own conscience is well known;
after the massacre of St. Bartholomew he saw, by day and by night, the
forms of his victims around him, till death made an end to his
sufferings. On our own continent, one of the early conquerors gave a
striking instance of the manner in which such visions are produced. He
was one of the adventurers who had reached Darien, and was on the point
of plundering a temple; but, a few days before, an Indian woman had told
him that the treasures it held were guarded by evil spirits, and if he
entered it the earth would open and swallow up the temple and the
conquerors alike. Nothing daunted, he led his men to the attack; but, as
they came in sight, he suddenly saw, in the evening light, how the
colossal building rocked to and fro as in a tempest, and thoroughly
intimidated he rode away with his followers, leaving the temple and its
treasures unharmed. That visions are apt to precede atrocious crimes is
quite natural, since they are in such cases nothing but the product of
the intense excitement under which murders are often committed; but, it
would be absurd to look upon them as motive causes. Ravaillac had
constant visions of angels, saints, and demons, while preparing his mind
for the assassination of Henry IV., and the young student who attempted
the murder of Napoleon at Schoenbrunn repeatedly saw the genius of
Germany, which appeared to him and encouraged him to free his country
from the usurper. Persons who attempt to summon ghosts are very apt to
see them, because their mind is highly wrought up by their proceedings
and they confidently expect to have visions. But some men possess a
similar power without making any special effort or peculiar
preparations, their firm volition sufficing for the purpose. Thus Talma
could at all times force himself to see, in the place of the actual
audience before whom he was acting, an assembly of skeletons, and he is
said never to have acted better than when he gave himself up to this
hallucination. Painters, also, frequently have the power to summon
before their mind's eye the features of those whose portrait they are
painting; Blake, for instance, was able actually to finish likenesses
from images he saw sitting in the chair where the real persons had been
seated.
While visions are quite common, delusions of the other senses are less
frequent. The insane alone hear strange conversations. Hallucinations of
the taste cause patients to enjoy delightful dishes, or to partake of
spoiled meat and other unpalatable viands, which have no existence.
Sweet smells and incense are often perceived, bad odors much less
frequently. The touch is of all senses the least likely to be deceived;
still deranged people occasionally feel a slight touch as a severe blow,
and persons suffering from certain diseases are convinced that ants,
spiders, or other insects are running over their bodies.
The favorite season of visions is night--mainly the hour about
midnight--and in the whole year, the time of Advent, but also the nights
from Christmas to New Year. This is, of course, not a feature of
supernatural life, but the simple effect of the greater quiet and the
more thoughtful, inward life, which these seasons are apt to bring to
busy men. The reality of our surroundings disappears with the setting
sun, and in deep night we are rendered almost wholly independent of the
influence exercised in the day by friends, family, and even furniture.
All standards of measurement, moreover, disappear, and we lose the
correct estimate of both space and time. Turning our thoughts at such
times with greater energy and perseverance inward, our imagination has
free scope, and countless images appear before our mind's eye which are
not subject to the laws of real life. Darkness, stillness, and solitude,
the three great features of midnight seasons, all favor the full
activity of our fancy, and set criticism at defiance by denying us all
means of comparison with real sounds or sights. At the same time, it is
asserted, that under such circumstances men are also better qualified to
perceive manifestations which, during the _turba_ of daily life, are
carelessly ignored or really imperceptible to the common senses. So long
as the intercourse with the world and its exigencies occupy all our
thoughts, and self-interest makes us look fixedly only at some one great
purpose of life, we are deaf and blind to all that does not clearly
belong to this world. But when these demands are no longer made upon us,
and especially when, as in the time of Advent, our thoughts are somewhat
drawn from earthly natures, and our eyes are lifted heavenward, then we
are enabled to give free scope to our instincts, or, if we prefer the
real name, to the additional sense by which we perceive intangible
things. A comparison has often been drawn between the ability to see
visions and our power to distinguish the stars. In the day, the
brilliancy of the sun so far outshines the latter, that we see not a
single one; at night they step forth, as it were, from the dark, and the
deeper the blackness of the sky, the greater their own brightness. Are
they, on that account, nothing more than creatures of our imagination,
set free by night and darkness?
As for the favorite places where visions most frequently are seen, it
seems that solitudes have already in ancient times always been looked
upon as special resorts for evil spirits. The deserts of Asia, with
their deep gullies and numerous caves, suggested a population of shy and
weird beings, whom few saw and no one knew fully. Hence the fearful
description of Babylon in her overthrow, when "Their houses shall be
full of doleful creatures, and owls shall dwell there and satyrs shall
dance there." (Isaiah xiii. 21). The New Testament speaks in like manner
of the deserts of Palestine as the abode of evil spirits, and in later
days the Faroe Islands were constantly referred to as peopled with weird
and unearthly beings. The deserts of Africa are full of Djinns, and the
vast plains of the East are peopled with weird apparitions. The
solitudes of Norwegian mountain districts abound with gnomes and
sprites, and waste places everywhere are no sooner abandoned by men than
they are occupied by evil spirits and become the scenes of wild and
gruesome visions.
Well-authenticated cases of visions are recorded in unbroken succession
from the times of antiquity to our own day, and leave no doubt on the
mind that they are not only of common occurrence among men, but
generally, also, accompanied by magic phenomena of great importance. The
ancients saw, of course, most frequently their gods; the pagans, who had
been converted to Christianity, their former idols threatening them with
dire punishment; and Christians, their saints and martyrs, their angels
and demons. Thus all parties are supported by authorities in no way
peculiar to one faith or another, but common to all humanity; and the
battle is fought, for a time at least, between faith and faith, and
between vision and vision. A famous rhetor, Aristides, who is mentioned
in history as one of the mightiest champions polytheism ever has been
able to raise against triumphant Christianity, saw, in his hours of
exaltation, the great AEsculapius, who gave him directions how to carry
on his warfare. At such times his public addresses became so attractive
that thousands of enthusiastic hearers assembled to hang upon his lips.
The story of the genius of Socrates is well known; Aulus Gellius tells
us how the great sage was seen standing motionless for twenty-four hours
in the same place, before joining the expedition to Potidea, so absorbed
in deep thought that it seemed as if his soul had left the body. Dion,
Plato's most intimate friend, saw a huge Fury enter his house and sweep
it with a broom; a conspiracy broke out, and he was murdered, after
having lost his only son a few days before. (Plutarch's "Life of Dion,"
55.) The same Simonides, who according to Valerius Maximus (_De
Somniis_, l. i. ch. 5), had escaped from shipwreck by the timely warning
of a spirit, was once dining at the magnificent house of Skopas at
Cranon, in Thessaly, when a servant entered to inform him that two
gigantic youths were standing at the door and wished to see him
immediately. He went out and found no one there; but, at the same
moment, the roof and the walls of the dining-room fell down, burying all
the guests under the ruins (Phaedrus' Fab., iv. 24). The ancients looked
upon the vision, in both cases, as merely effects of the prophetic power
of the poet, which saved him from immediate death; once in the form of a
spirit and the second time in the form of the Dioscuri. For, as
Simonides had shortly before written a beautiful poem in honor of Castor
and Pollux, his escape and the friendly warning were naturally
attributed to the heroic youths, who constantly appear in history as
protective genii. In Greece they were known to have fought, dressed in
their purple cloaks and seated on snow-white horses, on the side of the
Locri, and to have announced their victory on the same day in Olympia,
and Sparta, in Corinth, and in Athens (Justin, ix. 3). In Rome they were
credited with the victory on the banks of Lake Regillus, and reported to
have, as in Greece, dashed into the city, far ahead of all messengers,
to proclaim the joyful news. During the Macedonian war they met Publius
Vatinius on his way to Rome and informed him that, on the preceding day,
AEmilius Paulus had captured Perseus. Delighted with the news, the
prefect hastens to the Senate; but is discredited and actually sent to
jail on the charge of indulging in idle gossip, unworthy of his high
office. It was only when at last messengers came from the distant army
and confirmed the report of Perseus' captivity, that the unlucky prefect
was set free again and honored with high rewards.
In other cases the warning genius was seen in visions of different
nature. Thus Hannibal was reported to have traced in his sleep the whole
course and the success of all his plans, by the aid of his genius, who
appeared to him in the shape of a child of marvelous beauty, sent by the
great Jupiter himself to direct his movements, and to make him master of
Italy. The child asked him to follow without turning to look back, but
Hannibal, yielding to the innate tendency to covet forbidden fruit,
looked behind him and saw an immense serpent overthrowing all
impediments in his way. Then came a violent thunderstorm with fierce
lightnings, which rent the strongest walls. Hannibal asked the meaning
of these portents, and was told that the storm signified the total
subjection of Italy, but that he must be silent and leave the rest to
fate. That the vision was not fully realized, was naturally ascribed to
his indiscretion. The genius of the two Consuls, P. Decius and Manlius
Torquatus, assumed, on the contrary, the shape of a huge phantom which
appeared at night in their camp at the foot of Vesuvius, and announced
the decision that one leader must fall in order to make the army
victorious. Upon the strength of this vision the two generals decided
that he whose troops should first show signs of yielding, should seek
death by advancing alone against the Latin army. The legions of Decius,
therefore, no sooner began to fall back, than he threw himself, sword in
hand, upon the enemy, and not only died a glorious death for his
country, but secured a brilliant victory to his brethren.
At a later period a genius saved the life of Octavian, when he and
Antony were encamped at Philippi, on the eve of the great battle against
Brutus and Cassius. The vision appeared not to himself, however, but to
another person, his own physician, Artorus, who, in a dream, was ordered
to advise his master to appear on the battle-field in spite of his
serious indisposition. Octavian followed the advice and went out, though
he had to be carried by his men in a litter; during his absence the
soldiers of Brutus entered the camp and actually searched his tent, in
which he would have perished inevitably without the timely warning. Of a
very different nature was the vision of Cassius, the lieutenant of
Antony, who, during his flight to Athens, saw at night a huge black
phantom, which informed him that he was his evil spirit. In his terror
he called his servants and inquired what they had seen, but they had
noticed nothing. Thus tranquilized, he fell asleep again, but the
phantom returned once more, and disturbed his mind so painfully that he
remained awake the rest of the night, surrounded by his guards and
slaves. The vision was afterwards interpreted as an omen of his
impending violent death.
The Emperor Trajan was saved from death during a fearful earthquake by a
man of colossal proportions, who came to lead him out of his palace at
Antioch; and Attila, who, to the surprise of the world, spared Rome and
Italy at the request of Pope Leo the Great, mentioned as the true motive
of his action the appearance of a majestic old man in priestly garments,
who had threatened him, drawing his sword, with instant death if he did
not grant all that the Roman high-priest should demand.
In other cases, which are as numerous as they are striking, the genius
assumes the shape of a woman. Thus Dio Cassius ("Hist. Rome," l. lv.),
as well as Suetonius ("Claudius," l. i), relate that when Drusus had
ravaged Germany, and was on the point of crossing the Elbe, the
formidable shape of a gigantic woman appeared to him, who waded up to
the middle of the stream and then called out: "Whither, O Drusus? Canst
thou put no limit to thy thirst of conquest? Back! the end of thy deeds
and of thy life is at hand!" History records that Drusus fell back
without apparent reason, and that he died before he reached the banks of
the Rhine. Tacitus tells us, in like manner, a vision which encouraged
Curtius Rufus at the time when he, a gladiator's son, and holding a most
humble position, was accompanying a quaestor on his way to Africa. As he
walked up and down a passage in deep meditation, a woman of unusual
size appeared to him and said: "Thou, O Rufus, shalt be proconsul of
this province!" The young man, perhaps encouraged and supported by a
vision which was the result of his own ambitious dreams, rose rapidly by
his eminent ability, and after he had reached the consulate, really
obtained the province of Africa (Ann., xi. 21). The younger Pliny, who
tells the same story in his admirable letter to Sura on the subject of
magic, adds that the genius appeared a second time to the great
proconsul, but remained silent. The latter saw in this silence a warning
of approaching death, and prepared for his end, which did not fail soon
to close his career.
It is very striking to see how in these visions also the inner life of
man was invariably clearly and distinctly reflected. The ambitious youth
saw his good fortune personified in the shape of a beautiful woman,
which his excited imagination called Africa, and which he hoped some
time or other to call his own. Brutus, on the contrary, full of
anticipations of evil, and suffering, and perhaps unconsciously, bitter
remorse on account of Caesar's murder, saw his sad fate as a hideous
demon. The army, also, sharing, no doubt, their leader's dark
apprehensions, looked upon the black AEthiopian who entered the camp as
an evil omen. The appointed meeting at Philippi was merely an evidence
of the superior ability of Brutus, who foresaw the probable course of
the war and knew the great strategic importance of the famous town.
In the same manner a tradition was long cherished in Augsburg of a
fanatic heroine on horseback, who appeared to Attila when he attempted
to cross the river Lech on his way from Italy to Pannonia. She called
out to him: "Back!" and made a deep impression upon his mind. The
picture of the giant woman was long preserved in a Minorite convent in
the city, and was evidently German in features and in costume. It is by
no means impossible that the lofty but superstitious mind of the
ruthless conqueror, after having long busied itself with his approaching
attack upon a mighty, unknown nation, personified to himself in a
momentary trance the genius of that race in the shape of a majestic
woman.
This was all the more probable as Holy Writ also presents to us a whole
series of mighty women who exercised at times a lasting influence on the
fate of the chosen people, and the world's history abounds with similar
instances. There was Deborah, "a prophetess who judged Israel at that
time," and went to aid in the defeat of Sisera, and there was Huldah,
the prophetess, who warned Josiah, king of Judah. We have the same grand
images in Greek and in Roman history, and German annals mention more
than one Jettha and Velleda. The series of warnings given by the more
tender-hearted sex runs through the annals of modern races from the
oldest times to our own day. One of the latest instances happened to a
king well known for his sneering skepticism and his utter disbelief of
all higher powers. This was Bernadotte, who forsook his benefactor in
order to mount the throne of Sweden, and turned his own sword against
his former master. Long years after the fall of Napoleon, he was on the
point of sending his son Oscar with an army against Norway, and met with
much opposition in the Council of State. Full of impatience and
indignation, he mounted his horse and rode out to cool his heated mind;
as he approached a dark forest near Stockholm, he saw an old woman
sitting by the wayside, whose quaint costume and wild, disheveled hair
attracted his attention. He asked her roughly what she was doing there?
Her reply was: "If Oscar goes into the war which you propose, he will
not strike but receive the first blow." The king was impressed by the
warning and returned, full of thoughts, to his palace; after a sleepless
night he informed the Council of State that he had changed his views,
and would not send the prince to Norway (_La Presse_, May 4, 1844). Even
if we accept the interview with the woman as a mere vision, the effect
of the king's long and anxious preoccupation with an important plan upon
the success of which the security of his throne and the continuation of
his dynasty might depend, the question still remains, why a man of his
tastes and haughty skepticism should have clothed his doubts in words
uttered by an old woman, dressed in fancy costume?
The number of practical, sensible men who have, even in recent times,
believed themselves under the special care and protection of a genius
or guardian angel, is much larger than is commonly known. The ancients
looked upon a genius as a part of their mythology; and modern
Christians, who cherish this belief, refer to the fact that the Saviour
said of little children: "In heaven their _angels_ do always behold the
face of my Father" (Matt. xviii. 10). These visions--for so they must be
called--vary greatly in different persons. To some men they appear only
when great dangers are threatening or sublime efforts have to be made;
while in others, they assume, by their frequency, a more or less
permanent form, and may even be inherited, becoming tutelary deities of
certain houses, familiar spirits, or specially appointed guardian angels
of the members of a family or single individuals. Hence, the well-known
accounts of the genius of Socrates and the familiar spirits of the
Bible, in ancient times. Hence, also, the almost uninterrupted line of
similar accounts through the Middle Ages down to our own day. Thus,
Campanella stated that whenever he was threatened with misfortune, he
fell into a state half way between waking and sleeping, in which he
heard a voice say: "Campanella! Campanella!" and several other words,
without ever seeing a person. Calignan, Chancelor of Navarre, heard in
Bearn, his name called three times, and then received a warning from the
same voice to leave the town promptly, as the plague was to rage there
fearfully. He obeyed the order, and escaped the ravages of the terrible
disease (Beaumont, "Tractat.," etc., p. 208). The Jesuit Giovanni
Carrera had a protecting genius, whom he frequently consulted in cases
of special difficulty. He became so familiar with him, that he had
himself waked every night for his prayers, but when at times he
hesitated to rise at once, the spirit abandoned him for a time, and
Carrera could only induce him to come back by long-continued praying and
fasting ("Hist. S. J.," iii. p. 177).