* * * * *
"The known is finite, the unknown is infinite;
intellectually we stand on an islet in the midst of an
illimitable ocean of inexplicability. Our business in every
generation is to reclaim a little more land; to add
something to the extent and solidity of our
possessions."--_Huxley in "Reception of the 'Origin of
Species.'"_
Public attention at this time especially is being called to various
forms of psychic phenomena measurably through the efforts of the
Society for Psychical Research in investigating and sifting the
evidence for the stories of apparitions, hallucinations, forewarnings,
etc., but more because so many who have heretofore scoffed at and
doubted such stories, or who have been foiled in their efforts to
obtain for themselves any satisfactory evidence that such phenomena
really occur, are now able to testify from their own experience, in
one form or another, that such are real facts of our existence.
The questions raised by the class of facts already elicited through
this investigation are of supreme importance, and it becomes the duty
of every serious-minded enquirer who has had experience of this kind
to give the result of his investigations to the public, and thus aid
those searching for the underlying cause of all such phenomena.
Therefore after considerable hesitation, and with some inward
shrinking from an obvious duty, I have concluded to take the
consequences of publishing my own recent experience. A word of
personal explanation may here be necessary. A sincere believer in
Orthodox Christianity until my twentieth year, I have been led by
careful study and unfaltering love of truth to give up my belief in
Christian dogmas, and have for some years known no other name by which
to designate my state of mind in regard to religious belief than that
misunderstood and often misapplied term, agnostic. But at no stage in
my mental progress have I ever felt sure that I had reached any
conclusion which was final, and at no time have I been a believer in
spiritualism, or been convinced that we survive the present state of
being; while always I have felt an interest in every undecided
question in science and religion, and earlier have had some
"intimations of immortality," which have caused me to think seriously
on the subject and to long for more light. I have decided to lay the
simple facts of my most recent experience before the readers of THE
ARENA, and allow them to draw what conclusions they will without
offering any theory of my own. More than a year ago my interest in
psychic phenomena was awakened by reading the reports of the Society
for Psychical Research, but it has been my own personal experience
which has created a profound impression on my mind. If any one who
reads this will try to imagine in what spirit he would greet an entire
stranger or group of strangers, who through the telephone, for
instance, should send him genial messages full of commonsense,
philosophy, humor, and friendliness, giving him interesting details of
a strange land, he can partially understand the state of mind in
which, after many months of such intercourse, I find myself. Except on
two or three occasions no one has been present but my husband, B. F.
Underwood, and myself.
The _modus operandi_ is the simplest possible. As I remembered that
Mr. U. was rather averse to the planchette experiments of former
years, thinking them unwholesome and deteriorating in their tendency,
I at first said nothing to him of my new psychical experiments, though
these were made oftenest in his presence in the evening when we both
sat at one writing table, near each other, busied with our individual
literary work. As I experimented in his absence as well as in his
presence, I soon found that I got the most coherent writings when he
was present. Indeed I could get nothing coherent, and very frequently
nothing at all, when he was away, but when he was present the
communications began to grow strangely interesting, and as he was
called upon repeatedly, I felt obliged to invite his attention, when
the most surprising answers were given, which roused his curiosity and
interest. It has been explained that his presence is necessary for me
to obtain writing, as "blended power is best." Two or three times, at
the suggestion of this intelligence, we have asked two of our intimate
literary friends--non-spiritualists--to be present, but each time
with comparative failure; afterwards we were informed that the cause
of failure was the introduction of persons unused to the conditions,
who broke up the harmonious relations necessary to communication; in
time they could be of help.
It would take a volume to present all the interesting statements as to
an advanced stage of existence, only hidden from us because of the
inadequacy of our sense perceptions, and by the conditions imposed
upon us at this stage of our progress, which have been given from this
source. Explanations have been made why communication through the
agency of certain persons, though not through all, are possible. The
conditions, it is alleged, are not entirely dependent upon the
superior intelligence or morality of the persons with whom the
intelligences can become _en rapport_. These invisibles declare that
they are as seriously and anxiously experimenting on their side to
discover modes of untrammelled communication with us, as we on our
side ought to be, if what they write be true, and if such a thing is
possible. "Spirits" they persistently insist upon being called. In
this paper I can give only a statement of some things which do not
seem explicable on the hypothesis of mind-reading, thought
transference, hypnotism, or subconsciousness. In all these experiments
I have been in a perfectly normal state. The only physical indication
of any outside influence is an occasional slight thrill as of an
electric current from my shoulder to the hand which holds the waiting
pen. Step by step I have been taught a series of signals to aid me in
correctly reading the communications. I have no power to summon at
will any individual I wish. I have repeatedly, but in vain, tried to
get messages from some near and dear friends. It has been explained
that on their side, as on ours, certain "conditions" must exist in
order to get in "control." When "eh?" is written I know that the
operator at the other end of the line is ready to communicate. When in
the middle of a sentence or a word "gone" or "change" is written, I
understand that the connection is broken, and I must not expect the
completion of that message. When a line like this ---- is drawn, it is
a sign that that sentence is completed or the communication ended. So
with other things. Rhymes are often unexpectedly written, especially
if the "control" professes to be a poet, and they are dashed off so
rapidly that I do not understand their import until the close when I
can read them over. Impromptu rhyming is a feat utterly impossible to
either Mr. U. or myself. Names persistently recur which are unknown to
us. Many different handwritings appear, some of them far superior to
my own. When I first began to get communications I destroyed, in a day
or two after they were written, the slips of paper containing the
writing, but as the developments became more interesting, Mr. U.
suggested that they be preserved for reference. I acted on this
suggestion, and thus in the instances of facts given outside our own
knowledge, I am enabled to give the exact wording of each
communication. Our questions were asked _viva voce_, and as they were
often suggested by what had been previously written, I either at the
time or soon afterward wrote them just above the reply. I am not,
therefore, trusting at all to memory in the statements I shall make.
A gentleman of this city (whom I will call John Smith, but whose real
name was a more uncommon one) with whom Mr. U. had been acquainted
many years, but of whose family relations he knew little, died here
more than a year ago. Mr. U. had met him but once in the year previous
to his death, he having been away on account of failing health,
staying, we understood, with a daughter recently married, whose home
was in Florida. The first name of this married daughter, or of any of
Mr. Smith's daughters except one, was unknown to Mr. U. I had met one
of his daughters whose name I knew to be Jennie. I also knew that
there was another named Violet. I was not sure, however, whether this
was the name of the married one, or of another unmarried, but had the
impression that Violet was unmarried. One evening, while waiting for
automatic writing with no thought of Mr. Smith in my mind, and Mr. U.
sitting near me at the table with his thoughts concentrated on an
article he was preparing, this was written: "John Smith will now enter
into conversation with B. F. Underwood." I read this to Mr. U. who
laid aside his pen, and in order to test the matter, asked if Mr.
Smith remembered the last time they met, soon after his return from
the South, and a short time previous to his death. There was some
delay in the answer, but soon reply came "On Madison St." "Whereabouts
on Madison?" was asked. "Near Washington." "At what hour?" "About 10
A. M., raining." As it was rarely that Mr. U. was in that part of the
city at so early an hour, and especially on a rainy day, I doubted the
correctness of this reply, but Mr. U. recalled to my mind the unusual
circumstance which made it necessary for him to be in that vicinity on
the day and at the hour named, on which he and Mr. Smith, he
distinctly remembered, last met. Only a few words passed between them
on account of the rain. After this, writing, purporting to be from Mr.
Smith, came frequently. Very soon something was written which induced
Mr. U. half sportively to inquire whether there was anything which
troubled Mr. Smith, anything which he wished he had done but had
omitted, before his death. The answer came, "One thing--change deeds
on Violet's account. None of my wife's are at my daughter's disposal.
All in her own disposal." Mr. U. asked if it was meant that he had not
left his property--for he was a man of some wealth--as he now wished
he had. "You are right," was written, "want all my girls to share
alike." "Which daughter do you refer to?" was asked. "Went away from
her in Florida--Violet," was the answer. I remarked, "Why, I thought
Violet was one of the unmarried girls, but it must be that that is the
name of the married daughter." Then Mr. U. was strongly urged to call
on Mr. Smith's married son, James, with whom Mr. U. had a slight
acquaintance, and tell him of this communication. "Clearly state my
desire that my daughter Violet share equally with her sisters." Of
course this was utterly out of the question. At that time we had no
intention of informing any one of our psychic experience, and if we
had, Mr. James Smith would have thought us insane or impertinent to
come to him with so ridiculous a story, the truth of which we
ourselves strongly doubted. Pages were, however, written concerning
the matter in so earnest and pleading a manner that I came to feel
conscience-stricken at refusing to do what was asked, and to shrink
from seeing Mr. Smith's name appear. Once was written, "Say to James
that in my new position, and with my new views of life, I feel that I
did wrong to treat his sister Violet as I did. She was not to blame
for following out her own convictions, when I had inculcated
independent thought and action for all." This and other sentences of
the kind seemed to convey the idea that Violet had in some way
incurred his displeasure by doing according to her own will in
opposition to his. This was puzzling to us, as we knew that in her
marriage, at least, the daughter we thought to be Violet had followed
her father's wishes.
A few weeks later, however, came an unlooked-for verification of Mr.
Smith's messages. In a conversation between Mr. U. and a business
friend of Mr. Smith, who was well acquainted with all his affairs,
regret was expressed that so wealthy a man had left so little for a
certain purpose. Mr. U. then inquired as to what disposition had been
made of his property, and was told that he had left it mainly to his
wife and children--so much to this one, and that. "But Violet,"
continued Mr. U.'s informant, "was left only a small amount, as Mr.
Smith was angry because she married against his wishes." "Why,"
remarked Mr. U., "I understood that he approved of the match, and the
fact that he accompanied herself and husband to Florida, and remained
with them some time, would seem to indicate that." "Oh, you are
thinking of Lucy, the eldest girl; her marriage was all right, but
Violet, one of the younger daughters, going to Florida with her
husband, fell in love with a young man of whom her father did not
approve, so she made a runaway marriage, and on account of his
displeasure, Mr. Smith left her only a small sum." The intelligence
writing was aware of facts unknown, to either Mr. U. or myself, and no
other persons were in the room when these communications were given.
One evening one of us spoke of the frequently false and mischievous
statements purporting to come from spirits--predictions which did not
come to pass, descriptions which were wholly wrong, and sending
credulous believers on wild-goose chases after hidden treasure, etc.,
the occasion being an untrue statement made to us in regard to the
death of a friend who was alive and well. We asked if this unseen
intelligence would explain why this was allowed. Reply came promptly,
"Rather tough problem. There are certain phases of our existence here
which are not explainable to you on your plane, and the test we were
obliged to make of your credulity was one of these." We protested
against such tests, and I declared that I would not try to receive
communications if they practised deception. "Why do you protest," was
written, "when you already know you are but a tyro in this phase of
being? You don't now willingly do the work assigned you, and B. F. U.
is still harder to manage." Thereupon Mr. U. suggested "that without
sense organs and a material environment, conditions would be such,
perhaps, that they could not be expressed in terms known to us, nor be
even conceived by us." Immediately was written: "Many wish to answer
B. F. U.'s clear statement of the difficulties in the way of spirit
intercourse with those still in the flesh, but now comes the one soul
capable of clear answer. Blessed be they who question--gone." Next
came this--"Boehme wants to reply." Here I have to confess that never
having paid much attention to occult or mystical literature the name
Boehme was utterly unknown to me, and at this point I asked Mr. U.,
"Did you ever hear of anyone by the name of B-o-e-h-m-e?" spelling the
word. "Certainly," he replied, "Jacob Boehme, he was a German thinker
who died--" my hand began to move just then, and he paused, and while
the following was being written my mind reverted hazily to a German
philosophical writer, who had died within a few years, and of whose
life one of our friends had written a sketch. His name began with B,
and I thought he was the one Mr. U. referred to, as I had forgotten
what the full name was. I say this to explain that there could be no
thought-transference in this instance from Mr. U.'s mind to mine. This
was written rapidly. "Death and life are but two phases of one truth,
and when what mankind calls death comes, it is as we experience the
change that all our circumscribed relations to banded universalities
become clear; but when we try to explain to those not yet beyond man's
sphere we find ourselves at a loss because there is nothing parallel
in this state of existence with your knowledge." Afterwards Mr. U.
showed me in the encyclopædia a sketch of him (the name spelled Bohme,
and in several other ways) in which it was stated "he had a very
fertile imagination, and a remarkable faculty of intuition, and
professed to be divinely inspired," and that he died in 1624. Since
then I have found another sketch of his life which says that "owing to
the fantastic terminology he thought fit to adopt, his writings are
condemned by many as utterly unintelligible." This may explain the
"Banded Universalities," a phrase I never in my life saw before, and
only dimly understand now; I had never to my knowledge read a word of
his writings. In my case, as in that of many who profess to give
spirit messages, frequently names of dead thinkers and heroes are
signed. I protested against this, saying I did not believe that these
individuals were the ones who communicated, and asked for some
explanation. Immediately this answer was written: "Elaine and
Guinevere were not real beings but types--so somewhere in our sphere
are spirits who embody cleverness in creations of their fancy, and
adopt names suited to their ideas." Since this explanation was given,
I have had more patience with the communications signed by great
names, since I have imagined that these are types aspired to by the
real writers. But their "cleverness in creations of their fancy"
extends sometimes to fair imitations of the thought and style of those
whose names they borrow. For instance, since Elizabeth Barrett
Browning is one of my favorite poets, it is not at all strange that
her name and that of her husband might be suggested by my own mind; my
own mind ought also to suggest the thought of the following, written
as from Mrs. Browning, though the phraseology is not mine. "Robert
gave me life. He gave me to Love. He and I are but two sides of one
individuality. We both understand this, as you understand it." But
then followed without any apparent pause for a word, this:--
"Let your own hearts deeply feel
The sweet songs of older lovers,
So shall song and sense appeal
To all that true emotion covers."
I never saw these lines anywhere, and I doubt whether anyone has seen
them before, while I am confident that I did not compose them. I had
not then read Browning's "One Word More," but two days later in a
magazine article I came across a quotation from that poem in which
occurs the phrase "older lovers," the magazine having been brought to
the house that day, and two days after the verse was written. A day or
two later at the close of a communication from an entirely different
source, and one in no way suggestive of Browning, the words, "One Word
More" were rapidly written, followed by this verse:--
"Round goes the world as song-birds go,
There comes an age of overthrow--
Strange dreams come true, yet still we dream
Of deeper depths in Life's swift stream."
This I did not compose, nor had I ever heard or seen it before.
One evening it was promised that "Brain workers of philosophical bent"
would answer our questions. The first question asked was, "From your
standpoint do you consider death the end of conscious existence?"
_Ans._--"Death we know only as a phrase used to indicate change of
environment."
_Ques._--"Is death expected on your plane as on ours, or do all
understand that the next change is progressive?"
_Ans._--"Slow are even those on our plane to understand the law of
unending evolution."
_Ques._--"But we may apprehend what we do not fully understand or
comprehend?"
_Ans._--"Comprehension sees farther than understanding. Comprehend
means complete understanding."
_Ques._--"Do you mean that comprehension is a word of wider
significance than understanding?"
_Ans._--"You are right."
I had never given any thought to the difference between the words
"understanding" and "comprehending," and when this was written was not
satisfied in my own mind that comprehend did mean more than
understand. On the following day I consulted Worcester's Unabridged
Dictionary and to my surprise, under the word "comprehend" found this
note: "Comprehend has a more extensive meaning than understand or
apprehend." So in this case, as in several others I have not time to
cite here, the intelligence which moved my hand to write gave me
knowledge which I did not myself possess. Very often in place of
writing, all I could get from them would be spiral lines. Sometimes a
page would be crossed and recrossed with these lines as if with some
definite purpose. This suggested to me the possibility that such lines
held some meaning unknown to me, and I put the question. The answer
was given, "We have different modes of thought from yours--and the
spiral signs are most in use with us: Some of our less advanced
scientists forget that on your plane our mode of control is not
understood by you. Lines are made of such esoteric meaning that, while
we understand at a glance, it is impossible for those on your plane to
perceive any words." Mr. Underwood here remarked: "There are numerous
spirals--all modifications of the primary straight line."
_Ans._--"Yes, the spiral is a primal law, simple yet complex, which we
who understand life's manifold ascensions grow to symbolize in our
thought, language, and writing."
I am warned by the length of this paper that I must close without
being able to give one tenth part of the many strange and surprising
revelations, or statements, philosophical and other, which we have
gained from this strange source. I have confined myself to those which
show most strongly evidence of an intelligence outside of Mr. U. or
myself, the only two persons who have been concerned in obtaining
them. To me personally these are _not_ the most wonderful phases of
this influence. The reasonable explanations given of the laws
governing another state of human existence, but very little different
from this except in being a step forward in the direction of
Mind--that is to me the most wonderful, but of that I cannot speak
here.
I know that my experience at this time is by no means exceptional.
Before I had ever said one word to any human being except Mr. U. in
regard to it, there came to me a confidential letter from a valued
friend in another State, a lady of intellect and culture, confessing
that like, but far more varied, phenomena were occurring through her.
Like myself her position had been that of an agnostic, and the
communications to her are very similar to those I have obtained. I had
not heard from her in a year previous to the receipt of this letter. I
have been told of two or three other cases, so far unknown to the
public, all occurring within the year, and to non-spiritualists. And I
judge from magazine articles written by such well-known people as O.
B. Frothingham, Elizabeth Phelps Ward, and M. J. Savage, as well as
from public utterances of Mrs. Livermore and others, that this wave of
communication from some not fully understood source is far more
extensive than is generally suspected. It is, therefore, time that all
whose opinions may have weight, who have personal knowledge of such
phenomena, relate what they have seen or experienced in order that
these experiences may be compared, and the real source from which they
emanate may be discovered, if possible.
One other strange experience in this line came to me a few years ago
at the bedside of a dear friend at the point of death, which, perhaps,
may be related in this connection. It was near midnight; death was
momentarily expected. All the other watchers, exhausted by days of
grief and care, were snatching an hour of rest; and I stood alone
looking at the unconscious face before me which was distinctly
visible, though the light was heavily shaded to keep the glare from
the dying eyes. All her life my friend had been a Christian believer,
with an unwavering faith in a life beyond this, and for her sake a
bitter grief came upon me because, so far as I could see, there were
no grounds for that belief. I thought I could more easily let her go
out into the unknown if I could but feel that her hope would be
realized, and I put into words this feeling. I pleaded that if there
were any of her own departed ones present at this supreme moment could
they not and would they not give me some least sign that such was the
fact, and I would be content. Slowly over the dying one's face spread
a mellow radiant mist--I know no other way to describe it. In a few
moments it covered the dying face as with a veil, and spread in a
circle of about a foot beyond, over the pillow, the strange
yellowish-white light all the more distinct from the partial darkness
of the room. Then from the centre of this, immediately over the hidden
face, appeared an apparently living face with smiling eyes which
looked directly into mine, gazing at me with a look so full of
comforting assurance that I could scarcely feel frightened. But it was
so real and so strange that I wondered if I were temporarily crazed,
and as it disappeared I called a watcher from another room, and went
out into the open air for a few moments to recover myself under the
midnight stars. When I was sure of myself I returned and took my place
again alone. Then I asked that, if that appearance were real and not
an hallucination, would it be made once more manifest to me; and again
the phenomenon was repeated, and the kind, smiling face looked up at
me--a face new to me yet wondrously familiar. Afterwards I recalled my
friend's frequent description of her dead father whom she dearly
loved, but whom I had never seen, and I could not help the impression
that it was his face I saw the hour that his daughter died.