Bias in belief. Difficulty of examining problems in which unknown
personal conditions are dominant. Comte Agenor de Gasparin on
table-turning. The rise of modern table-turning. Rapping. French
examples. A lady bitten by a spirit. Flying objects. The 'via
media' of M. de Gasparin. Tables are turned by recondite physical
causes: not by muscular or spiritual actions. The author's own
experiments. Motion without contact. Dr. Carpenter's views.
Incredulity of M. de Gasparin as to phenomena beyond his own
experience. Ancient Greek phenomena. M. de Gasparin rejects
'spirits'. Dr. Carpenter neglects M. de Gasparin's evidence.
Survival and revival. Delacourt's case. Home's case. Simon Magus.
Early scientific training. Its results. Conclusion.
While reason is fondly supposed to govern our conduct, and direct
our conclusions, there is no doubt that our opinions are really
regulated by custom, temperament, hope, and fear. We believe or
disbelieve because other people do so, because our character is
attracted to, or repelled by the unusual, the mysterious; because,
from one motive or another, we wish things to be thus, or fear that
they may be thus, or hope that they may be so, and cannot but dread
that they are otherwise. Again, the laws of Nature which have been
ascertained are enough for the conduct of life, and science
constantly, and with excellent reason, resists to the last gasp
every attempt to recognise the existence of a new law, which, after
all, can apparently do little for the benefit of mankind, and may
conceivably do something by no means beneficial. Again, science is
accustomed to deal with constant phenomena, which, given the
conditions, will always result. The phenomena of the marvellous are
not constant, or, rather, the conditions cannot be definitely
ascertained. When Mr. Crookes made certain experiments on Home's
power of causing a balance to move without contact he succeeded; in
the presence of some Russian savants a similar experiment failed.
Granting that Mr. Crookes's tests were accurate (and the lay mind,
at least, can see no flaw in them), we must suppose that the
personal conditions, in the Russian case, were not the same.
Now an electric current will inevitably do its work, if known and
ascertained conditions are present; a personal current, so to speak,
depends on personal conditions which are unascertainable. It is
inevitable that science, accustomed to the invariable, should turn
away from phenomena which, if they do occur, seem, so far, to have a
will of their own. That they have a will of their own is precisely
their attraction for another class of minds, which recognises in
them the action of unknown intelligences. There are also people who
so dislike our detention in the prison house of old unvarying laws,
that their bias is in favour of anything which may tend to prove
that science, in her contemporary mood, is not infallible. As the
Frenchman did not care what sort of scheme he invested money in,
'provided that it annoys the English,' so many persons do not care
what they invest belief in, provided that it irritates men of
science. Just as rationally, some men of science denounce all
investigation of the abnormal phenomena of which history and rumour
are so full, because the research may bring back distasteful
beliefs, and revive the 'ancestral tendency' to superstition. Yet
the question is not whether the results of research may be
dangerous, but whether the phenomena occur. The speculations of
Copernicus, of Galileo, of the geologists, of Mr. Darwin, were
'dangerous,' and it does not appear that they have added to the sum
of human delight. But men of science are still happiest when
denouncing the 'obscurantism' of those who opposed Copernicus, Mr.
Darwin, and the rest, in dread of the moral results. We owe the
strugforlifeur of M. Daudet to Mr. Darwin and Mr. Alfred Wallace,
and the strugforlifeur is as dangerous and disagreeable as the half-
crazy spiritualist. Science is only concerned with truth, not with
the mischievous inferences which people may draw from truth. And
yet certain friends of science, quite naturally and normally, fall
back on the attitude of the opponents of Copernicus: 'These
things,' they say, 'should not even be examined'.
Such are the hostile and distracting influences, the contending
currents, in the midst of which Reason has to operate as well as she
can. Meanwhile every one of us probably supposes himself to be a
model of pure reason, and if people would only listen to him, the
measure of the universe. This happy and universal frame of mind is
agreeably illustrated in a work by the late Comte Agenor de
Gasparin, Les Tables Tournantes (Deuxieme edition: Levy, Paris,
1888). The first edition is of 1854, and was published at a time of
general excitement about 'table-turning' and 'spirit-rapping,' an
excitement which only old people remember, and which it is amazing
to read about.
Modern spirit-rapping, of which table-turning is a branch, began, as
we know, in 1847-48. A family of Methodists named Fox, entered, in
1847, on the tenancy of a house in Hydesville, in the State of New
York. The previous occupants had been disturbed by 'knocking,' this
continued in the Fox regime, one of the little girls found that the
raps would answer (a discovery often made before) a system of
alphabetic communication was opened, and spiritualism was launched.
{307} In March, 1853, a packet of American newspapers reached
Bremen, and, as Dr. Andree wrote to the Gazette d'Augsbourg (March
30, 1853), all Bremen took to experiments in turning tables. The
practice spread like a new disease, even men of science and
academicians were puzzled, it is a fact that, at a breakfast party
in Macaulay's rooms in the Albany, a long and heavy table became
vivacious, to Macaulay's disgust, when the usual experiment was
tried. Men of science were, in some cases, puzzled, in others
believed that a new force must be recognised, in others talked of
unconscious pushing or of imposture. M. Babinet, a member of the
Institute, writing in the Revue des Deux Mondes (May, 1854),
explained the 'raps' or percussive noises, as the result of
ventriloquism! A similar explanation was urged, and withdrawn, in
the case of the Cock Lane ghost, and it does not appear that M.
Babinet produced a ventriloquist who could do the trick. Raps may
be counterfeited in many ways, but hardly by ventriloquism. The
raps were, in Europe, a later phenomenon than the table-turning, and
aroused far more interest. The higher clergy investigated the
matter, and the Bishop of Mans in a charge, set down the phenomena
to the agency of some kind of spirits, with whom Christian men
should have no commerce. Granting the facts, the bishop was
undeniably right.
There was published at that time a journal called La Table Parlante,
which contained recitals of phenomena, correspondence, and so forth.
Among the narratives, that of a M. Benezet was typical, and is
curious. In recent years, about 1872-80, the Rev. Mr. Stainton
Moses, a clergyman and scholar of the best moral reputation,
believed himself to be the centre of extraordinary, and practically
incredible, occurrences, a belief shared by observers among his
friends. M. Benezet's narrative is full of precisely parallel
details. M. Benezet lived at Toulouse, in 1853; and his experiences
had for their scene his own house, and that of his relations, M. and
Mme. L. The affair began in table-turning and table-tilting: the
tilts indicated the presence of 'spirits,' which answered questions,
right or wrong: under the hands of the L.'s the table became
vivacious, and chased a butterfly. Then the spirit said it could
appear as an old lady, who was viewed by one of the children. The
L.'s being alarmed, gave up making experiments, but one day, at
dinner, thumps were struck on the table. M. Benezet was called in,
and heard the noises with awe. He went away, but the knocks sounded
under the chair of Mme. L., she threw some holy water under the
chair, when _her thumb was bitten_, and marks of teeth were left on
it. Presently her shoulder was bitten, whether on a place which she
could reach with her teeth or not, we are not informed. Raps went
on, the L.'s fled to M. Benezet's house, which was instantly
disturbed in the same fashion. Objects were spirited away, and
reappeared as oddly as they had vanished. Packets of bonbons turned
up unbeknown, sailed about the room, and suddenly fell on the table
at dinner. The L.'s went back to their own house, where their hats
and boots contracted a habit of floating dreamily about in the air.
Things were hurled at them, practical jokes were played, and in
September these monstrous annoyances gradually ceased. The most
obvious explanation is that Mme. L. demoralised by turning tables,
took, consciously or unconsciously, to imitating the tricks of which
history and legend are full. Her modus, operandi, in some
phenomena, is difficult to conjecture.
While opinion was agitated by these violent events, and contending
hypotheses, while La Table Parlante took a Catholic view, and
Science a negative view, M. Agenor de Gasparin, a Protestant, chose
a via media.
M. de Gasparin, the husband of the well-known author of The Near and
the Heavenly Horizons, was a table-turner, without being a
spiritualist. His experiments were made in Switzerland, in 1853; he
published a book on them, as we said; M. Figuier attacked it in Les
Mysteres de la Science, after M. de Gasparin's death, and the widow
of the author replied by republishing part of the original work. M.
de Gasparin, in the early Empire, was a Liberal, an anti-Radical, an
opponent of negro slavery, a Christian, an energetic honest man,
absolu et ardent, as he confesses.
His purpose was to demonstrate that tables turn, that the phenomenon
is purely physical, that it cannot be explained by the mechanical
action of the muscles, nor by that of 'spirits'. His allies were
his personal friends, and it is pretty clear that two ladies were
the chief 'agents'. The process was conducted thus: a 'chain' of
eight or ten people surrounded a table, lightly resting their
fingers, all in contact, on its surface. It revolved, and, by
request, would raise one of its legs, and tap the floor. All this,
of course, can be explained either by cheating, or by the
_unconscious_ pushes administered. If any one will place his hands
on a light table, he will find that the mere come and go of pulse
and breath have a tendency to agitate the object. It moves a
little, accompanying it you unconsciously move it more. The
experiment is curious because, on some days, the table will not
budge, on others it instantly sets up a peculiar gliding movement,
in which it almost seems to escape from the superimposed hands,
while the most wakeful attention cannot detect any conscious action
of the muscles. If you try the opposite experiment, namely
conscious pushing of the most gradual kind, you find that the
exertion is very distinctly sensible. The author has made the
following simple experiment.
Two persons for whom the table would _not_ move laid their hands on
it firmly and flatly. Two others (for whom it danced) just touched
the hands of the former pair. Any pressure or push from the upper
hands would be felt, of course, by the under hands. No such
pressure was felt, yet the table began to rotate. In another
experiment with another subject, the pressure _was_ felt (indeed the
owner of the upper hands was conscious of pressing), yet the table
did _not_ move. These experiments are, physiologically, curious,
but, of course, they demonstrate nothing. Muscles can move the
table, muscles can apparently act without the consciousness of their
owner, therefore the movement is caused, or may be irrefutably said
to be caused, by unconscious muscular action.
M. de Gasparin, of course, was aware of all this; he therefore aimed
at producing movement _without_ contact. In his early experiments
the table was first set agoing by contact; all hands were then
lifted at a signal, to half an inch above the table, and still the
table revolved. Of course it will not do this, if it is set agoing
by conscious muscular action, as any one may prove by trying. As it
was possible that some one might still be touching the table, and
escaping in the crowd the notice of the observers outside the
circle, two ladies tried alone. The observer, Mr. Thury, saw the
daylight between their hands and the table, which revolved four or
five times. To make assurance doubly sure, a thin coating of flour
was scattered over the whole table, and still it moved, while the
flour was unmarked. M. de Gasparin was therefore convinced that the
phenomena of movement without mechanical agency were real. His
experiments got rid of Mr. Faraday's theory of unconscious pressure
and pushing, because you cannot push with your muscles what you do
not touch with any portion of your body, and De Gasparin had assured
himself that there was _no_ physical contact between his friends and
this table.
M. de Gasparin now turned upon Dr. Carpenter, to whom an article in
the Quarterly Review, dealing with the whole topic of abnormal
occurrences, was attributed. Dr. Carpenter, at this time, had
admitted the existence of the hypnotic state, and the amenability of
the hypnotised person to the wildest suggestions. He had also begun
to develop his doctrine of 'unconscious cerebration,' that is, the
existence of mental processes beneath, or apart from our
consciousness. {312} An 'ideational change' may take place in the
cerebrum. The sensorium is 'unreceptive,' so the idea does not
reach consciousness. Sometimes, however, the idea oozes out from
the fingers, through muscular action, also unconscious. This moves
the table to the appropriate tilts. These two ideas are capable, if
we admit them, of explaining many singular psychological facts, but
they certainly do not explain the movements of tables which nobody
is touching. In face of M. de Gasparin's evidence, which probably
was not before him, Dr. Carpenter could only have denied the facts,
or alleged that the witnesses, including observers outside the
chaine, or circle, were all self-hypnotised, all under the influence
of self-suggestion, and all honestly asserting the occurrence of
events which did not occur. His essay touched but lightly on this
particular marvel. He remarked that 'the turning of tables, and the
supposed communications of spirits through their agency' are due 'to
the mental state of the performers themselves'. Now M. de Gasparin,
in his via media, repudiated 'spirits' energetically. Dr. Carpenter
then explained witchcraft, and the vagaries of 'camp-meetings' by
the 'dominant idea'. But M. de Gasparin could reply that persons
whose 'dominant idea' was incredulity attested many singular
occurrences. At the end of his article, Dr. Carpenter decides that
table-turners push unconsciously, as they assuredly do, but they
cannot push when not in contact with the object. The doctor did not
allege that table-turners are 'biologised' as he calls it, and under
a glamour. But M. de Gasparin averred that no single example of
trance, rigidity, loss of ordinary consciousness, or other morbid
symptoms, had ever occurred in his experiments. There is thus, as
it were, no common ground on which he and Dr. Carpenter can meet and
fight. He dissected the doctor's rather inconsequent argument with
a good deal of acuteness and wit.
M. de Gasparin then exhibited some of the besetting sins of all who
indulge in argument. He accepted all his own private phenomena, but
none of those, such as 'raps' and so forth, for which other people
were vouching. Things must occur as he had seen them, and not
otherwise. What he had seen was a chaine of people surrounding a
table, all in contact with the table, and with each other. The
table had moved, and had answered questions by knocking the floor
with its foot. It had also moved, when the hands were held close to
it, but not in contact with it. Nothing beyond that was orthodox,
as nothing beyond hypnotism and unconscious cerebration was orthodox
with Dr. Carpenter. Moreover M. de Gasparin had his own physical
explanation of the phenomena. There is, in man's constitution, a
'fluid' which can be concentrated by his will, and which then, given
a table and a chaine, will produce M. de Gasparin's phenomena: but
no more. He knows that 'fluids' are going out of fashion in
science, and he is ready to call the 'fluid' the 'force' or
'agency,' or 'condition of matter' or what you please. 'Substances,
forces, vibrations, let it be what you choose, as long as it is
something.' The objection that the phenomena are 'of no use' was
made, and is still very common, but, of course, is in no case
scientifically valid. Electricity was 'of no use' once, and the
most useless phenomenon is none the less worthy of examination.
M. de Gasparin now examines another class of objections. First, the
phenomena were denied; next, they were said to be as old as history,
and familiar to the Greeks. We elsewhere show that this is quite
true, that the movement of objects without contact was as familiar
to the Greeks as to the Peruvians, the Thibetans, the Eskimo, and in
modern stories of haunted houses. But, as will presently appear,
these wilder facts would by no means coalesce with the hypothesis of
M. de Gasparin. To his mind, tables turn, but they turn by virtue
of the will of a 'circle,' consciously exerted, through the means of
some physical force, fluid, or what not, produced by the imposition
of hands. Now these processes do not characterise the phenomena
among Greeks, Thibetans, Eskimo, Peruvians, in haunted houses, or in
presence of the late Mr. Home,--granting the facts as alleged. In
these instances, nobody is 'circling' round a chair, a bed, or what
not, yet the chair or bed moves, as in the story of Monsieur S. at
St. Maur (1706), and in countless other examples. All this would
not, as we shall see, be convenient for the theory of M. de
Gasparin.
His line of argument is that the Greek and Latin texts are
misunderstood, but that, if the Greeks did turn tables, that is no
proof that tables do not turn, but rather the reverse. A favourite
text is taken from Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xxix. ch. i. M. de
Gasparin does not appear to have read the passage carefully. About
371 A.D. one Hilarius was tortured on a charge of magical operations
against the Emperor Valens. He confessed. A little table, made of
Delphic laurel, was produced in court. 'We made it,' he said, 'that
confounded little table, under strange rites and imprecations, and
we set it in movement, thus: it was placed in a room charged with
perfumes, above a round plate fashioned of various metals. The edge
of the plate was marked with the letters of the alphabet separated
by certain spaces. A priest, linen clad, bowed himself over the
table, balancing a ring tied to a thin thread. The ring, bounding
from letter to letter, picks out letters forming hexameters, like
those of Delphi.' This is confusing. Probably the movements of the
table, communicated to the thread, caused the bounds of the ring,
otherwise there was no use in the table moving. At all events the
ring touched THEO (which is not a word that could begin a hexameter)
when they asked who was to succeed Valens. Some one called out
'Theodore' and they pursued the experiment no farther. A number of
Theodores and Theophiles were put to death, but when Theodosius was
joined with Gratian in the Empire, the believers held that the table
had been well inspired. Here there was no chaine, or circle, the
table is not said to lever le pied legerement, as the song advises,
therefore M. de Gasparin rules the case out of court. The object,
however, really was analogous to planchette, Ouija, and other modern
modes of automatic divination. The experiment of Hilarius with the
'confounded little table' led to a massacre of Neoplatonists,
martyrs of Psychical Research! In Hilarius's confession we omit a
set of ritual invocations; as unessential as the mystic rites used
by savages in making curari.
The spiritus percutiens, 'rapping spirit' (?) conjured away by old
Catholic formulae at the benediction of churches, was brought
forward by some of M. de Gasparin's critics. As _his_ tables did
not rap, he had nothing to do with the spiritus percutiens, who
proves, however, that the Church was acquainted with raps, and
explained them by the spiritualistic hypothesis. {317}
A text in Tertullian's Apologetic was also cited. Here tabulae and
capae, 'tables and she-goats,' are said to divine. What have she-
goats to do in the matter? De Morgan wished to read tabulae et
crepae, which he construes 'tables and raps,' but he only finds
crepae in Festus, who says, that goats are called crepae, quod
cruribus crepent, 'because they rattle with their legs'. De
Morgan's guess is ingenious, but lacks confirmation. We are not, so
far, aware of communication with spirits by raps before 856 A.D.
Finally, M. de Gasparin denies that his researches are
'superstitious'. Will can move my limbs, if it also moves my table,
what is there superstitious in that? It is a new fact, that is all.
'Tout est si materiel, si physique dans les experiences des tables.'
It was not so at Toulouse!
Meanwhile M. de Gasparin, firm in his 'Trewth,'--the need of a
chaine of persons, the physical origin of the phenomena, the entire
absence of spirits,--was so unlucky, when he dealt with 'spirits,'
as to drop into the very line of argument which he had been
denouncing. 'Spirits' are 'superstitious,'--well, his adversaries
had found superstition in his own experiments and beliefs. To
believe that spirits are engaged, is 'to reduce our relations with
the invisible world to the grossest definition'. But why not, as we
know nothing about our relations with the invisible world? The
theology of the spirits is 'contrary to Scripture'; very well, your
tales of tables moved without contact are contrary to science. 'No
spiritualistic story has ever been told which is not to be classed
among the phenomena of animal magnetism. . . . ' This, of course,
is a mere example of a statement made without examination, a sin
alleged by M. de Gasparin against his opponents. Vast numbers of
such stories, not explicable by the now rejected theory of 'animal
magnetism,' have certainly been _told_.
In another volume M. de Gasparin demolished the tales, but he was
only at the beginning of his subject. The historical and
anthropological evidence for the movement of objects without
contact, not under his conditions, is very vast in bulk. The modern
experiments are sometimes more scientific than his own, and the
evidence for the most startling events of all kinds is quite as good
as that on which he relies for his prodigies, themselves
sufficiently startling. His hypothesis, at all events, of will
directing a force or fluid, by no means explains phenomena quite as
well provided with evidence as his own. So M. de Gasparin disposes
of the rival miracles as the result of chance, imposture, or
hallucination, the very weapons of his scientific adversaries. His
own prodigies he has seen, and is satisfied. His opponents say:
'You cannot register your force sur l'inclinaison d'une aiguille'.
He could not, but Home could do so to the satisfaction of a
scientific expert, and probably M. de Gasparin would have believed
it, if he had seen it. M. de Gasparin is horrified at the idea of
'trespassing on the territory of acts beyond our power'. But, if it
were possible to do the miracles of Home, it would be possible
because it is _not_ beyond our power. 'The spiritualistic opinion
is opposed to the doctrine of the resurrection: it merely announces
the immortality of the soul.' But that has nothing to do with the
matter in hand.
The theology of spirits, of course, is neither here nor there. A
'spirit' will say anything or everything. But Mr. C. C. Massey when
he saw a chair move at a word (and even without one), in the
presence of such a double-dyed impostor as Slade, had as much right
to believe his own eyes as M. de Gasparin, and what he saw does not
square with M. de Gasparin's private 'Trewth'. The chair in Mr.
Massey's experience, was 'unattached' to a piece of string; it fell,
and, at request, jumped up again, and approached Mr. Massey, 'just
as if some one had picked it up in order to take a seat beside me'.
{319a}
Such were the idola specus, the private personal prepossessions of
M. de Gasparin, undeniably an honourable man. Now, in 1877, his old
adversary, Dr. Carpenter, C.B., M.D., LL.D, F.R.S., F.G.S.,
V.P.L.S., corresponding member of the Institute of France, tout ce
qu'il y a de plus officiel, de plus decore, returned to the charge.
He published a work on Mesmerism, Spiritualism, etc. {319b} Perhaps
the unscientific reader supposes that Dr. Carpenter replied to the
arguments of M. de Gasparin? This would have been sportsmanlike,
but no, Dr. Carpenter firmly ignored them! He devoted three pages
to table-turning (pp. 96, 97, 98). He exhibited Mr. Faraday's
little machine for detecting muscular pressure, a machine which
would also detect pressure which is _not_ muscular. He explained
answers given by tilts, answers not consciously known to the
operators, as the results of unconscious cerebration. People may
thus get answers which they do expect, or answers which they do not
expect, as may happen. But not one word did Dr. Carpenter say to a
popular audience at the London Institution about M. de Gasparin's
assertion, and the assertion of M. de Gasparin's witnesses, that
motion had been observed without any contact at all. He might, if
he pleased, have alleged that M. de Gasparin and the others fabled;
or that they were self-hypnotised, or were cheated, but he
absolutely ignored the evidence altogether. Now this behaviour, if
scientific, was hardly quite _sportsmanlike_, to use a simple
British phrase which does credit to our language and national
character. Mr. Alfred Wallace stated a similar conclusion as to Dr.
Carpenter's method of argument, in language of some strength. 'Dr.
Carpenter,' he said, 'habitually gives only one side of the
question, and completely ignores all facts which tell against his
theory.' {320} Without going so far as Mr. Wallace, and alleging
that what Dr. Carpenter did in the case of M. de Gasparin, he did
'habitually,' we may briefly examine some portions of his book
which, perhaps, leave something to be desired. It is written with
much acuteness, with considerable fairness, and is certainly
calculated to convince any reader who has not been perplexed by
circumstances on which Dr. Carpenter throws little light.
Our own chief perplexity is the continuity and uniformity of the
historical and anthropological evidence for certain marvels. We
have already shown the difficulty of attributing this harmony of
evidence, first to savage modes of thought, and then to their
survival and revival. The evidence, in full civilisation, ancient
and modern, of educated and even sceptical witnesses to phenomena,
which are usually grotesque, but are always the same everywhere, in
every age and land, and the constant attendance of these phenomena
on persons of a peculiar temperament, are our stumbling-blocks on
the path to absolute negation. Epilepsy, convulsions, hysterical
diseases are startling affairs, we admit. It was natural that
savages and the ignorant should attribute them to diabolical
possession, and then look out for, and invent, manifestations of the
diabolical energy outside the body of the patient, say in movements
of objects, knocks, and so forth. As in these maladies the patient
may be subject to hallucinations, it was natural that savages or
ignorant men, or polytheists, or ardent Catholics, or excitable
Covenanters, should regard these hallucinations as 'lucid' or
'clairvoyant'. A few lucky coincidences would establish this
opinion among such observers as we have indicated, while failures of
lucidity would not be counted. The professional epileptic medicine-
man, moreover, would strengthen his case by 'prophesying on velvet,'
like Norna of the Fitful Head, on private and early information.
Imposture would imitate the 'spiritual' feats of 'raps,' 'physical
movements of objects,' and 'luminous forms'. All this would
continue after savagery, after paganism, after 'Popery' among the
peasants who were for so long, and in superstition are even now, a
conservative class.
All that 'expectancy,' hysterics, 'the dominant idea' and rude
hypnotism, 'the sleep of the shadow,' could do, would be done, as
witch trials show. All these elements in folklore, magic and belief
would endure, in the peasant class, under the veneer of
civilisation. Now and again these elements of superstition would
break through the veneer, would come to the surface among the
educated classes, and would 'carry silly women captive,' and silly
men. They, too, though born in the educated class, would attest
impossible occurrences.
In all this, we might only see survival, wonderfully vivacious, and
revival astonishingly close to the ancient savage lines.
We are unable to state the case for survival and revival more
strenuously, and the hypothesis is most attractive. This hypothesis
appears to be Dr. Carpenter's, though he does not, in the limits of
popular lectures, unfold it at any length. After stating (p. 1)
that a continuous belief in 'occult agencies' has existed, he adds:--
'While this very continuity is maintained by some to be an evidence
of the real existence of such [occult] agencies, it will be my
purpose to show you that it proves nothing more than the wide-spread
diffusion, alike amongst minds of the highest and lowest culture, of
certain tendencies to thought, which have either created ideal
marvels possessing no foundation whatever in fact, or have, by
exaggeration and distortion, invested with a preternatural character
occurrences which are perfectly capable of a natural explanation'.
Here Dr. Carpenter does not attempt to show cause why the
'manifestations' are always the same, for example, why spirits rap
in the Australian Bush, among blacks not influenced by modern
spiritualism: why tables moved, untouched, in Thibet and India,
long before 'table-turning' was heard of in modern Europe. We have
filled up the lacuna in the doctor's argument, by suggesting that
the phenomena (which are not such as a civilised taste would desire)
were invented by savages, and handed on in an unbroken catena, a
chain of tradition.
But, in following Dr. Carpenter, we are brought up short at one of
our old obstacles, we trip on one of our old stumbling-blocks.
Granting that an epileptic patient made strange bounds and springs,
we can conceive savages going farther in fancy, and averring that he
flew, or was levitated, or miraculously transported through space.
Let this become matter of traditional belief, as a thing possible in
epilepsy, i.e., in 'diabolical,' or 'angelical possession'. Add the
honest but hallucinatory persuasion of the patient that he was so
levitated, and let him be a person of honour and of sanctity, say
St. Theresa, St. Francis, or St. Joseph of Cupertino. Granting the
survival of a savage exaggeration, granting the hallucinated saint,
we may, perhaps, explain the innumerable anecdotes about miraculous
levitation of which a few are repeated in our paper on 'Comparative
Psychical Research.' The witnesses in witch trials, and in
ecclesiastical inquiries, and Lord Orrery, and Mr. Greatrakes, and
the Cromwellian soldiery in Scotland, the Spanish in Peru, Cotton
Mather in New England, saw what they expected to see, what tradition
taught them to look for, in the case of a convulsionary, or a saint,
or a catechumen. The consensus in illusion was wonderful, but let
us grant, for the sake of argument, that it was possible. Let us
add another example, from Cochin China.
The witness and narrator is Delacourt, a French missionary. The
source is a letter of his of November 25, 1738, to Winslow the
anatomist, Membre de l'Academie des Sciences a Paris. It is printed
in the Institutiones Theologicae of Collet, who attests the probity
of the missionary. {324}
In May or June, 1733, Delacourt was asked to view a young native
Christian, said by his friends to be 'possessed'.
'Rather incredulous,' as he says, Delacourt went to the lad, who had
communicated, as he believed, unworthily, and was therefore a prey
to religious excitement, which, as Bishop Callaway found among his
Zulu converts, and as Wodrow attests among 'savoury Christians,'
begets precisely such hallucinations as annoyed the early hermits
like St. Anthony. Delacourt addressed the youth in Latin: he
replied, Ego nescio loqui Latine, a tag which he might easily have
picked up, let us say. Delacourt led him into church, where the
patient was violently convulsed. Delacourt then (remembering the
example set by the Bishop of Tilopolis) ordered the demon _in
Latin_, to carry the boy to the ceiling. 'His body became stiff, he
was dragged from the middle of the church to a pillar, and there,
his feet joined, his back fixed (colle) against the pillar, he was
transported in the twinkling of an eye to the ceiling, like a weight
rapidly drawn up, without any apparent action on his part. I kept
him in the air for half an hour, and then bade him drop without
hurting himself,' when he fell 'like a packet of dirty linen'.
While he was up aloft, Delacourt preached at him in Latin, and he
became, 'perhaps the best Christian in Cochin China'.
Dr. Carpenter's explanation must either be that Delacourt lied; or
that a tradition, surviving from savagery, and enforced by the
example of the Bishop of Tilopolis, made a missionary, un peu
incredule, as he says, believe that he saw, and watched for half an
hour, a phenomenon which he never saw at all. But then Dr.
Carpenter also dismisses, with none but the general theory already
quoted, the experience of 'a nobleman of high scientific
attainments,' who 'seriously assures us' that he saw Home 'sail in
the air, by moonlight, out of one window and in at another, at the
height of seventy feet from the ground.' {326}
Here is the stumbling-block. A nobleman of high scientific
attainment, in company with another nobleman, and a captain in the
army, all vouched for this performance of Home. Now could the
savage tradition, which attributes flight to convulsive and
entranced persons, exercise such an influence on these three
educated modern witnesses; could an old piece of folklore, in
company with 'expectancy,' so wildly delude them? Can 'high
scientific attainments' leave their possessor with such humble
powers of observation? But, to be sure, Dr. Carpenter does not tell
his readers that there were _three_ witnesses. Dr. Carpenter says
that, if we believe Lord Crawford (and his friends), we can 'have no
reason for refusing credit to the historical evidence of the
demoniacal elevation of Simon Magus'. Let us point out that we have
no contemporary evidence at all about Simon's feat, while for
Home's, we have the evidence of three living and honourable men,
whom Dr. Carpenter might have cross-examined. The doings of Home
and of Simon were parallel, but nothing can be more different than
the nature of the evidence for what they are said to have done.
This, perhaps, might have been patent to a man like Dr. Carpenter of
'early scientific training'. But he illustrated his own doctrine of
'the dominant idea'; he did not see that he was guilty of a fallacy,
because his 'idea' dominated him. Stumbling into as deep a gulf,
Dr. Carpenter put Lord Crawford's evidence (he omitted that of his
friends) on a level with, or below, the depositions of witnesses as
to 'the aerial transport of witches to attend their demoniacal
festivities'. But who ever swore that he _saw_ witches so
transported? The evidence was not to witnessed facts, but only to a
current belief, backed by confessions under torture. No testimony
could be less on a par with that of a living 'nobleman of high
scientific attainments,' to his own experience.
In three pages Dr. Carpenter has shown that 'early scientific
training' in physiology and pathology, does not necessarily enable
its possessor to state a case fully. Nor does it prompt him to
discriminate between rumours coming, a hundred and fifty years after
the date of the alleged occurrences, from a remote, credulous, and
unscientific age: and the statements of witnesses all living, all
honourable, and, in one case, of 'high scientific attainments.'
{327}
It is this solemn belief in his own infallibility as a judge of
evidence combined with his almost incredible ignorance of what
evidence is, that makes Dr. Carpenter such an amusing
controversialist.
If any piece of fact is to be proved, it is plain that the
concurrent testimony of three living and honourable men is worth
more than a bit of gossip, which, after filtering through a century
or two, is reported by an early Christian Father. In matters wholly
marvellous, like Home's flight in the air, the evidence of three
living and honourable men need not, of course, convince us of the
fact. But this evidence is in itself a fact to be considered--'Why
do these gentlemen tell this tale?' we ask; but Dr. Carpenter puts
the testimony on the level of patristic tattle many centuries old,
written down, on no authority, long after the event. Yet the worthy
doctor calmly talks about 'want of scientific culture preventing
people from appreciating the force of scientific reasoning,' and
that after giving such examples of 'scientific reasoning' as we have
examined. {328} It is in this way that Science makes herself
disliked. By aid of ordinary intelligence, and of an ordinary
classical education, every one (however uncultivated in 'science')
can satisfy himself that Dr. Carpenter argued at random. Yet we do
not assert that 'early scientific training' _prevents_ people from
understanding the nature of evidence. Dr. Carpenter had the
training, but he was impetuous, and under a dominant idea, so he
blundered along.
Dr. Carpenter frequently invoked for the explanation of marvels, a
cause which is vera causa, expectancy. 'The expectation of a
certain result is often enough to produce it' (p. 12). This he
proves by cases of hypnotised patients who did, or suffered, what
they expected to be ordered to suffer or do, though no such order
was really given to them. Again (p. 40) he urges that imaginative
people, who sit for a couple of hours, 'especially if in the dark,'
believing or hoping to see a human body, or a table, rise in the
air, probably 'pass into a state which is neither sleeping nor
waking, but between the two, in which they see, hear, or feel by
touch, anything they have been led to expect will present itself.'
This is, indeed, highly probable. But we must suppose that _all_
present fall into this ambiguous state, described of old by
Porphyry. One waking spectator who sees nothing would make the
statements of the others even more worthless than usual. And it is
certain that it is not even pretended that all, always, see the same
phenomena.
'One saw an arm, and one a hand, and one the waving of a gown,' in
that seance at Branxholme, where only William of Deloraine beheld
all,
And knew, but how it mattered not,
It was the wizard, Michael Scott. {329}
Granting the ambiguous state, granting darkness, and expectancy,
anything may seem to happen. But Dr. Carpenter wholly omits such
cases as that of Mr. Hamilton Aide, and of M. Alphonse Karr. Both
were absolutely sceptical. Both disliked Home very much, and
thought him an underbred Yankee quack and charlatan. Both were in
the 'expectancy' of seeing no marvels, were under 'the dominant
idea' that nothing unusual would occur. Both, in a brilliantly
lighted room of a villa near Nice, saw a chair make a rush from the
wall into the middle of the room, and saw a very large and heavy
table, untouched, rise majestically in the air. M. Karr at once got
under the table, and hunted, vainly, for mechanical appliances.
Then he and Mr. Aide went home, disconcerted, and in very bad
humour. How do 'expectancy' and the 'dominant idea' explain this
experience, which Mr. Aide has published in the Nineteenth Century?
The expectancy and dominant ideas of these gentlemen should have
made them see the table and chair sit tight, while believers
observed them in active motion. Again, how could Mr. Crookes's lack
of 'a special training in the bodily and mental constitution,
abnormal as well as normal,' of 'mediums,' affect his power of
observing whether a plank of wood did, or did not, move to a certain
extent untouched, or slightly touched, and whether the difference of
position was, or was not, registered mechanically? (p. 70). It was
a pure matter of skilled and trained observation in mechanics. Dr.
Huggins was also present at this experiment in a mode of motion.
Him Dr. Carpenter gracefully discredited as an 'amateur,' without 'a
broad basis of _general_ scientific culture'. He had devoted
himself 'to a branch of research which tasks the keenest powers of
_observation_'. Now it was precisely powers of _observation_ that
were required. 'There are _moral_ sources of error,' of which a
mere observer like Dr. Huggins would be unaware. And 'one of the
most potent of these is a proclivity to believe in the reality of
spiritual communications,' particularly dangerous in a case where
'spiritual communications,' were not in question! The question was,
did an indicator move, or not, under a certain amount of pressure?
Indiscreetly enough, to be sure, the pressure was attributed to
'psychic force,' and perhaps that was what Dr. Carpenter had in his
mind, when he warned Dr. Huggins against 'the proclivity to believe
in the reality of spiritual communications'.
About a wilderness of other phenomena, attested by scores of sane
people, from Lord Crawford to Mr. S. C. Hall, Dr. Carpenter 'left
himself no time to speak' (p. 105). This was convenient, but the
lack of time prevented Dr. Carpenter from removing our stumbling-
block, the one obstacle which keeps us from adopting, with no shadow
of doubt, the theory that explains all the marvels by the survival
and revival of savage delusions. Dr. Carpenter's hypothesis of
expectancy, of a dominant idea, acting on believers, in an ambiguous
state, and in the dark, can do much, but it cannot account for the
experience of wide-awake sceptics, under the opposite dominant idea,
in a brilliant light.
Dr. Carpenter exposed and exploded a quantity of mesmeric
spiritualistic myths narrated by Dr. Gregory, by Miss Martineau, and
by less respectable if equally gullible authorities. But, speaking
merely as perplexed and unconvinced students of argument and
evidence, we cannot say that he removed the difficulties which have
been illustrated and described.
Table-turning, after what is called a 'boom' in 1853-60, is now an
abandoned amusement. It is deserted, like croquet, and it is even
less to be regretted. But its existence enabled disputants to
illustrate the ordinary processes of reasoning; each making
assertions up to the limit of his personal experience; each
attacking, as 'superstitious,' all who had seen, or fancied they had
seen, more than himself, and each fighting gallantly for his own
explanatory hypothesis, which never did explain any phenomena beyond
those attested by his own senses. The others were declared not to
exist, or to be the result of imposture and mal-observation,--and
perhaps they were.
The truly diverting thing is that Home did not believe in the other
'mediums,' nor in anything in the way of a marvel (such as matter
passing through matter) which he had not seen with his own eyes.
Whether Home's incredulity should be reckoned as a proof of his
belief in his own powers, might be argued either way.