CHAPTER XI

ON THE FACT OF SUPERNORMAL COMMUNICATION

"But he, the spirit himself, may come

Where all the nerve of sense is numb."

TENNYSON, _In Memoriam_

However it be accomplished, and whatever reception the present-day

scientific world may give to the assertion, there are many now who

know, by first-hand experience, that communication is possible across

the boundary--if there is a boundary--between the world apprehended

by our few animal-derived senses and the larger existence concerning

which our knowledge is still more limited.

Communication is not easy, but it occurs; and humanity has reason

to be grateful to those few individuals who, finding themselves

possessed of the faculty of mediumship, and therefore able to act as

intermediaries, allow themselves to be used for this purpose.

Such means of enlarging our knowledge, and entering into relations

with things beyond animal ken, can be abused like any other power: it

can be played with by the merely curious, or it can be exploited in

a very mundane and unworthy way in the hope of warping it into the

service of selfish ends, in the same way as old and long accessible

kinds of knowledge have too often been employed. But it can also be

used reverently and seriously, for the very legitimate purpose of

comforting the sorrowful, helping the bereaved, and restoring some

portion of the broken link between souls united in affection but

separated for a time by an apparently impassable barrier. The barrier

is turning out to be not hopelessly obdurate after all; intercourse

between the two states is not so impossible as had been thought;

something can be learnt about occurrences from either side; and

gradually it is probable that a large amount of consistent and fairly

coherent knowledge will be accumulated.

Meanwhile broken ties of affection have the first claim; and early

efforts at communication from the departed are nearly always directed

towards assuring survivors of the fact of continued personal

existence, towards helping them to realise that changed surroundings

have in no way weakened love or destroyed memory, and urging upon

their friends with eager insistence that earthly happiness need

not be irretrievably spoiled by bereavement. For purposes of this

kind many trivial incidents are recalled, such as are well adapted

to convince intimate friends and relatives that one particular

intelligence, and no other, must be the source from which the

messages ultimately spring, through whatever intermediaries they have

to be conveyed. And to people new to the subject such messages are

often immediately convincing.

Further thought, however, raises difficulties and doubts. The

gradually recognized possibility of what may be called normal

telepathy, or unconscious mind-reading from survivors, raises

hesitation--felt most by studious and thoughtful people--about

accepting such messages as irrefragable evidence of persistent

personal existence; and to overcome this curious and unexpected and

perhaps rather artificial difficulty, it is demanded that facts

shall be given which are unknown to anyone present, and can only

subsequently be verified. Communications of this occasional and

exceptional kind are what are called, by psychic investigators, more

specifically 'evidential': and time and perhaps good fortune may be

required for their adequate reception and critical appreciation.

For it is manifest that most things readily talked about between

two friends, and easily reproducible in hasty conversation, will

naturally be of a nature common to both, and on subjects well within

each other's knowledge.

The more recent development of an elaborate scheme of

'cross-correspondence,' entered upon since the death of specially

experienced and critical investigators of the S.P.R., who were

familiar with all these difficulties, and who have taken strong

and most ingenious means to overcome them, has made the proof,

already very strong, now almost crucial. The only alternative, in

the best cases, is to imagine a sort of supernormal mischievousness,

so elaborately misleading that it would have to be stigmatised as

vicious or even diabolical.

In most cases complete proof of this complicated and cold-blooded

kind is neither forthcoming nor is necessary: indeed it can hardly

be appreciated or understood by non-studious people. Effective

evidence is in most cases of a different kind, and varies with the

personality concerned. It often happens that little personal touches,

incommunicable to others in their full persuasiveness, sooner or

later break down the last vestiges of legitimate scepticism. What

goes on beyond that will depend upon personal training and interest.

With many, anything like scientific inquiry lapses at this point,

and communication resolves itself into emotional and domestic

interchange of ordinary ideas. But in a few cases the desire to

give new information is awakened; and when there is sufficient

receptivity, and, what is very important, a competent and suitable

Medium for anything beyond commonplace messages, instructive and

general information may be forthcoming. An explanation or description

of the methods of communication, for instance, as seen from their

side; or some information concerning the manner of life there;

and occasionally even some intelligent attempt to lessen human

difficulties about religious conceptions, and to give larger ideas

about the Universe as a whole,--all these attempts have been made.

But they always insist that their information is but little greater

than ours, and that they are still fallible gropers after truth,--of

which they keenly feel the beauty and importance, but of which they

realise the infinitude, and their own inadequacy of mental grasp,

quite as clearly as we do here.

These are what we call the 'unverifiable' communications; for we

cannot bring them to book by subsequent terrestrial inquiry in the

same way as we can test information concerning personal or mundane

affairs. Information of the higher kind has often been received, but

has seldom been published; and it is difficult to know what value to

put upon it, or how far it is really trustworthy.

I am inclined to think, however--with a growing number of serious

students of the subject--that the time is getting ripe now for

the production and discussion of material of this technically

unverifiable kind; to be scrutinised and tested by internal

consistency and inherent probability, in the same sort of way as

travellers' tales have to be scrutinised and tested. But until

humanity as a whole has taken the initial step, and shown itself

willing to regard such communications as within the range of

possibility, it may be unwise to venture far in this more ambitious

direction.

It has nevertheless been suggested, from a philosophic point of view,

that strict proof of individual survival must in the last resort

depend on examination and collation of these 'travellers' tales,'

rather than on any kind of resuscitation of the past; because, until

we know more about memory, it is possible to conjecture, as I think

Professor Bergson does, that all the past is potentially accessible

to a super-subliminal faculty for disinterring it. And so one might,

in a sceptical mood, when confronted with records of apparently

personal reminiscence, attribute them to an unconscious exercise of

this faculty, and say with Tennyson

"I hear a wind

Of memory murmuring the past."

I do not myself regard this impersonal memory as a reasonable

hypothesis, I think that the simpler view is likely to be the

truer one, so I attach importance to trivial reminiscences and

characteristic personal touches; but I do agree that abstention from

recording and publishing, however apologetically, those other efforts

has had the effect of making ill-informed people--_i.e._ people with

very little personal experience--jump to the conclusion that all

communications are of a trivial and contemptible nature.

Raymond; or, Life and Death With examples of the evidence for survival of memory and affection after death. · 第 11 / 17 章