SUPPLEMENTAL.—Abnormal neuro-psychical relation—-Cautions necessary
in receiving trance communications—Trance-visiting—Mesmerising at
a distance, and by the will—Mesmeric diagnosis and treatment of
disease—Prevision—Ultra-vital vision.
The principal alterations made in “the Letters” for the present
edition comprise an expansion of my account of “trances of spontaneous
occurrence,” and the introduction of greater precision into our
elementary conceptions of the relations of the mind and nervous system.
Letters V., VI., VII., and VIII., establish that the most startling
phenomena in popular superstitions, and the most wonderful performances
by mesmerised persons, are but repetitions of events, the occurrence
of which, as symptoms of, or as constituting, certain rare forms of
nervous attacks, have been independently authenticated and put on
record by physicians of credit. Letters II. and IX. exemplify the mode
in which superstition has dressed up trance-phenomena; as letters
III. and IV. display the contributions she has levied on sensorial
illusions, the Od force, and normal exoneural psychical phenomena.
Letter X. describes the method of inducing trances artificially,
whereby they may be reproduced at pleasure, either in the interests of
philosophical inquiry, or for important practical purposes.
I dedicate the present Letter to the reconsideration of the most
knotty points already handled, and to the investigation of a few other
questions, the solution of which is not less difficult.
I. _Hypothesis of an Abnormal Psychico-neural Relation as the essence
of trance._—I admit that it is a very clumsy expedient to assume that
the mind can, as it were, get loose in the living body, and, while
remaining there in a partially new alliance, exercise some of its
faculties in unaccustomed organs—which organs lose, for the same time,
their normal participation in consciousness; and farther, that the mind
can, partially indeed, but so completely disengage itself from the
living body, that its powers of apprehension may range with what we
are accustomed to consider the properties of free spirit, unlimitedly
as to space and time. I adopt the hypothesis upon compulsion—that
is to say, because I see no other way of accounting for the most
remarkable trance-phenomena. In due time, it is to be expected that
a simple inductive expression of the facts will take the place of my
hypothetical explanation. But not the less may the latter, crude as
it is, prove of temporary use, by bringing together in a connected
view many new and diversified phenomena, and planting the subject in a
position favourable for scientific scrutiny.
Let me arrange, in their most persuasive order, the facts which seem to
justify the hypothesis above enunciated.
1. In many cases of waking-trance, the patient does not see with his
eyes, hear with his ears, nor taste with his tongue, and the sense of
touch appears to have deserted the skin. At the same time, the patient
sees, hears, and tastes things applied to the pit of the stomach, or
sees and hears with the back of the head, or tips of the fingers.
2. In the first imperfect trance-waking from initiatory trance, the
patient’s apprehension of sensuous impressions often appears to have
entirely deserted his own body, and to be in relation with the sentient
apparatus in his mesmeriser’s frame—for, if you pull his hair, or put
mustard in his mouth, he does not feel either; but he is actually alive
to the sensations which these impressions excite, if the hair of the
mesmeriser is pulled, or mustard placed on the mesmeriser’s tongue.
The sensations excited thus in the mesmeriser, and these alone, the
entranced person realizes as his own sensations.
3. About the same time, the entranced person displays no will of
his own, but his voluntary muscles execute the gestures which his
mesmeriser is making, even when standing behind his back. His will
takes its guidance from sympathy with the exerted will of the other.
4. Presently, if his trance-faculties continue to be developed, the
entranced person enters into communication with the entire mind of
his mesmeriser. His apprehension seems to penetrate the brain of the
latter, and is capable of reading all his thoughts.
5. In the last three steps, the apprehension of the entranced person
appears to have left his own being to the extent described, and to
have entered into relation with the mind or nervous system of another
person. Now, if the patient become still more lucid, his apprehension
seems to range abroad through space, and to identify material objects,
and penetrate the minds of other human beings, at indefinite distances.
6. At length the entranced person displays the power of revealing
future events—a power which, as far as it relates to things separate
from his own bodily organization, or that of others, seems to me
to show that his apprehension is in relation with higher spiritual
natures, or with the Fountain of Truth itself.
In the following pages I have given examples of those of the powers
here attributed to very lucid clairvoyantes, which I have not
previously instanced.
* * * * *
II. _Transposition of the Senses._—No doubt these phenomena, irregular
as they seem at present, follow a definite law, which has to be
determined by future observations and experiments. Mr. Williamson found
some of his clairvoyantes see with the back of the head, some with the
side of the head—some best at seven inches, others at as many feet
off. In the case which Mr. Bulteel reported to me, the lady read with
her hand and fingers; even when he pressed a note against the back
of her neck, she read it instantly: but in this case actual contact
was necessary. In the case of a governess, artificially brought to
the state of waking-trance by Mr. Williamson, the same faculty was
observed. With one hand she used to hold open the book to be read,
resting it against her chest, the pages being turned away from her:
the contents of these she read fluently, touching the words with the
forefinger of the other hand. In one very interesting case, which I
witnessed here in the autumn of 1849, the young lady, clairvoyant
through mesmerism, sitting in the corner of a sofa, something reclined,
would have seen, had she peeped through a linear aperture between her
seemingly closed eyelids, the lower half of things only. As it was,
the reverse was the fact; and when we asked her what she saw, she
told us the cornice and upper part of the room. Then, without saying
any thing, I raised my cap upon my stick to within her declared range
of trance-vision; she exclaimed, “Ah, Guilleaume Tell!” Her mother,
whom she heard speak, but had not hitherto seen, in this trance, she
recognised at once, when she stood up upon a chair. To read, in this
trance, appeared a very painful effort to her; but she was certainly
able to make out some words when she pressed a written paper against
her forehead. It was evident that she could now visually discern things
by some new faculty of apprehension localized there. To enable her
to see things at a few feet distance, they had equally to be placed
_opposite_ to her forehead. In another case, in which the girl, when
entranced, certainly saw with the knuckles of one hand, on smearing the
back of that hand with ink, she could no longer see with it.
The above instances show how various are the features attending the
transposition of one sense alone in waking trance; and they suggest a
multitude of experiments. I remember, in 1838, on communicating facts
of this kind to a clear-headed practical man, he raised this objection
to their credibility: “If we can see without eyes, why has the Creator
given us eyes!” The objection is specious enough, but it admits of an
obvious answer. The state of trance is one of disease, transient and
temporary; it is during its persistence only that this new power of
apprehension is manifested. In our natural state, the mind is intended
to operate and try experiences in subordination to matter, and through
definite material organs, in which it is, in truth, imprisoned. Such
is the law of our normal mortal being. Accordingly, when the trance is
over, and the mind has returned to its normal relations with the body,
all its trance-apprehensions are forgotten by it—they form no part of
our moral life.
* * * * *
III. _Sources of Error in the communications of entranced persons._—I
put aside cases of deliberate deception; but when persons are really
entranced, they are liable, in various ways, to be deceived themselves,
and to deceive others, as to the value of their revealments. There
is often, in waking trance, a great vivacity and disposition to be
communicative from the first. Those, again, who have frequently been
thrown into trance, and have become familiar with their new condition,
are generally anxious to shine in it, and make a display. This
disposition is further heightened when the entranced person expects to
be rewarded for his performance.
1. When indulging their lively fancy, they are liable to have a sort
of waking dream, during which they describe imaginary scenes with the
precision and minuteness of reality, and represent them as actual,
passing at some place they name.
2. They are liable to recall past impressions, and to deliver bits of
old conclusions for intuitions.
3. They are liable to adopt the thoughts of others who may be near
them, especially those of their mesmeriser, and to deliver them as
trance-revelations.
4. In one instance which came to my knowledge, a young lady, previously
unacquainted with mathematics or astronomy, would, when entranced, and
sitting with her mother and sister, write fluently off pages of an
astronomical treatise, calculations, diagrams, and all. She averred and
believed in her entranced state—for, when awake, it was all a mystery
to her—that this performance was the product of an intuition. Her
manuscript was afterwards found to run word for word with an article
in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. That book, however, stood in the
library, in a remote part of the house. She certainly had it not with
her when she used to scribble its contents; nor did she remember ever
having looked into it, awake or asleep. She said—when entranced, and
this had been found out—that she believed she read the book as it stood
in the library.
5. With some imperfectly lucid patients, the exercise of their new
faculties appears to be fatiguing, and to call for great exertion. So
they are occasionally with difficulty led to answer at all; and then
when inconsiderately pressed, they are tempted to say any thing, just
to be left tranquil.
It is difficult to say how the preceding sources of error are to be
effectually guarded against. Possibly, by rigid training from the
first, the patient might be brought to distinguish false promptings
from genuine intuitions. But even the latter vary in lucidity and
certainty. This admission was made to a friend of mine by M. Alexis,
the celebrated Parisian clairvoyante. The reader cannot fail to be
interested by the following account, given by M. Alexis when entranced,
of his own powers, and their mode of operation:—
“Pour voir des objets éloignés,” observed M. Alexis, “mon âme ne se
dégage pas de mon corps. C’est ma volonté qui dérige mon âme, mon
esprit, sans sortir de cette chambre où je suis. Si mon âme sortit, je
serais mort; c’est ma volonté. Ma volonté suffit pour anéantir pour
quelque tems la matière. Ainsi quand cette volonté est en jeu, la boite
matérielle de mon individu n’est plus. Les murs, l’espace, et même le
tems, n’existent plus. Mais ce n’est qu’un rêve plus ou moins lucide.
Quelquefois ma vue est meilleure qu’à d’autres. Ma vue n’est jamais la
même. Une fois je suis disposé pour voir une sorte de choses, et une
autre fois une autre sorte. En regardant votre chambre dans un quartier
éloigné d’ici, je ne vois pas les rues ni les maisons intermédiaires.
La seule chose (alors) qui est dans la pensée est la personne qui me
parle. Je vois les objets d’une manière plus incomplète que par mes
sens, moins sure. Il serait impossible de fair comprendre comment je
vois. Plus il y a de l’attraction—plus j’éprouve de l’attraction aux
objets que je veux voir, ou qui me touche—plus il y a de lumière; plus
j’éprouve de répulsion, plus il y a de ténèbres.”
* * * * *
IV. _Of the Different Qualities of Od in different individuals._—Von
Reichenbach observed the Od light to have different colours under
different circumstances, and that, while Od-negative produces the
sensation of a draft of cool air, Od positive produces a sense as of
a draft of warm air. An easy way to verify the last phenomenon is to
beg some one to hold the forefinger of the right hand pointed to your
left palm, at a quarter of an inch distance, and afterwards his left
forefinger to your right palm, when the two sensations, and their
difference, are appreciable by the majority of persons.
Persons entranced by mesmeric procedures are often keenly alive to the
above impressions. They see light emanating from the finger-tips of
the mesmeriser, and feel an agreeable afflatus from his manipulations.
Others who approach them affect them in different ways—some not
disagreeably, while others excite a chilly, shivering feeling, and the
patient begs they will keep off from him.
A gentleman narrated to me the following case. He had been for months
in anxious attendance upon a brother who was in very delicate health,
and exquisitely sensitive to mesmerism. My friend used himself to
mesmerise his brother; but he found it necessary, in order to soothe
and not excite him by the passes, to cover the patient with a folded
blanket, so as to dull the agency of his Od-emanation. There was but
another person, of several who had been tried, whose hand the brother
could bear at all; this was a maid-servant, who herself was highly
susceptible, and became entranced. She said that she perceived, when
entranced, the suitableness of her influence, and that of the brother,
to the patient; and she used the singular expression, that they were
nearly of a colour. She said that the patient’s Od-emanation was of
a pink colour, and that the brother’s was a brick colour—a flatter,
deeper, red; and she endeavoured to find some one else with the same
coloured Od to suit her master.
In some experiments made at Dr. Leighton’s house in Gower Street,
I remember it was distinctly proved that each of the experimenters
produced different effects on the same person. The patient was one of
the Okeys, of mesmeric celebrity. The party consisted of Dr. Elliotson,
Mr. Wheatstone, Dr. Grant, Mr. Kiernan, and some others. Mr. Wheatstone
tabulated the results. Each of us mesmerised a sovereign; and it was
found that on each trial the trance-coma, which contact with the thus
mesmerised gold induced, had a characteristic duration for each of us.
Is it possible that each living person has his distinguishable measure
of Od, either in intensity or quality?
* * * * *
V. _The Od-Force is the usual channel of establishing mesmeric
relation._—I take it for granted that the Od-force—the existence and
some of the properties of which have been inductively ascertained by
Von Reichenbach—is the same agent with that which Mesmer assumed to
be the instrument in his operations. Then, in support of the above
proposition, I cite two instances. Mr. Williamson, at my request,
mesmerised and entranced the Rev. Mr. Fox at Weilbach, in the autumn of
1847. It was the second sitting, and Mr. Fox was beginning to pass from
the initiatory stage of trance into trance half-waking. Mr. Williamson
addressed him, and he returned an answer. Other parties in the room,
including myself, then addressed Mr. Fox, and he seemed not to hear one
of us. Then Mr. Williamson gave me his hand, and I again spoke to Mr.
Fox; he then heard me, and spoke in answer. When, having left go Mr.
Williamson’s hand, I spoke again to Mr. Fox, he heard me not. On my
renewing contact with Mr. Williamson, Mr. Fox heard me again. He heard
me as long as I was brought into relation with him, and that relation
was clearly due to the establishment of an Od-current between myself
and Mr. Williamson, with whom Mr. Fox was already in trance-relation.
Every one who has seen something of Mesmerism will recognise in the
above story one of its commonest phenomena.
But a more conclusive instance still has been already mentioned in
Letter X. M. Petetin made a chain of seven persons holding hands, the
seventh holding the hand of a cataleptic patient, who at that time
heard by her fingers only. When Dr. Petetin spoke to the fingers of the
first, _i. e._ the most remote, person of the chain, the cataleptic
person heard him as well as if he had spoken to her own fingers. Even
when a stick was made to form part of the circuit, the cataleptic still
heard Dr. Petetin’s whisper, uttered at the other end of the chain.
_Not so, however, if one of the parties forming the chain wore silk
gloves._
* * * * *
VI. _Trance-Identification of persons at a distance by means of
material objects._—A very lucid clairvoyante, her eyes being bandaged,
recognises not the less, without preparation or effort, every
acquaintance present in the room; describes their dress, the contents
of their purses, or of letters in their pockets, and reads their
innermost thoughts. An ordinary clairvoyante usually requires the
contact of the party’s hand with whom it is proposed to bring her into
trance-relation; then only does she first know any thing about her
new patient. It cannot be doubted that, in the latter case, it is the
establishment of an Od-current between the two that enables the mind of
the clairvoyante to penetrate the interior being of the visiter,—just
as, in the humblest effects of common mesmerism, a relation is sensibly
established between the party entranced and her mesmeriser, through
the Od-current which he had previously directed upon her, in order to
produce the trance. So far, all is theoretically clear enough.
But how is the establishment of the same relation between the
clairvoyante and a party wholly unknown to her, and residing many
miles off, to be explained, when the only visible medium of physical
connexion employed has been a lock of hair or a letter written by
the distant party, and placed in the hands of the clairvoyante? Let
me begin by giving the explanation, and afterwards exemplify the
phenomenon out of my own experience.
I conceive that the lock of hair, or the letter on which his hand has
rested, is charged with the Od-fluid emanating from the distant person;
and that the clairvoyante measures exactly the force and quality of
this dose of Od, and, as it were, individualizes it. Then, using this
clue, _distance being annihilated to the entranced mind_, it seeks for,
or is drawn towards, whatever there is more of this same individual
Od quality any where in space. When that is found, the party sought
is identified, and brought into relation with the clairvoyante, who
proceeds forthwith to tell all about him.
Now for an exemplification of this marvellous phenomenon. Being at
Boppard, a letter of mine addressed to a friend in Paris was by him put
into the hands of M. Alexis, who was asked to describe me. M. Alexis
told at once my age and stature, my disposition, and my illness; how
that I am entirely crippled, and at that time of the day, half-past
eleven, A.M. was in bed. All this, to be sure, M. Alexis might have
read in my friend’s mind, without going farther. But, he added, this
gentleman lives on the sea-coast. My friend denied the assertion;
but M. Alexis continued very positive that he was right. Now, most
oddly, the Rhine, on the banks of which I resided then, is at Boppard
the boundary of Prussia; and I never cross it, or visit Nassau, but
I am in the habit of sitting on the bank, listening to the breaking
of the surge, which the passing steamers create, and which exactly
resembles the murmur of the sea. This very mistake of M. Alexis helped
to convince me that this performance of his was genuine. However,
being stoutly contradicted by my friend, M. Alexis reconsidered the
matter, and said, “No; he does not live on the sea-coast, but on the
Rhine, twenty leagues from Frankfort.” This answer was exact. But
there was another point which M. Alexis hit with curious felicity. I
should observe that this friend was one of a few months’ date, who had
no means of comparing what I am with what I was formerly. But it had
happened that I had written, not to him, but to a friend resident
in England, _about the same time_, that, ill as I was, my mind was
singularly clear and active, and that I regarded the fact as a sign
my end was at hand; that the mental brightness probably resembled
the flaring-up of a rushlight before it goes out. Well, M. Alexis,
adverting to my condition, observed that I was extremely weak, and had
suffered much from irritation of the nerves;—facts true enough, but
which certainly would not have led him to infer the existence of that
clearness of mind which I had myself remarked. Nevertheless, strangely
added M. Alexis, “Le morale n’en est pas atteint; au contraire,
l’esprit est plus dégagé et plus vif qu’auparavant.” I can therefore
entertain no doubt, that at four hundred miles’ distance, merely by
handling a recent letter from me, M. Alexis had identified me as
its writer, through the Od-fluid the letter conveyed; and had truly
penetrated my physical and mental being so completely, that most that
was important in my story lay distinctly revealed before him.
* * * * *
VII. _Mental Travelling by clairvoyantes._—Let me begin with an
instance. The following extract from the _Zoist_ contains a very
interesting narrative by Lord Ducie, which is exactly to the point:
“In the highest departments or phenomena of mesmerism, he for a long
time was a disbeliever, and could not bring himself to believe in the
power of reading with the eyes bandaged, or of mental travelling; at
length, however, he was convinced of the truth of those powers, and
that, too, in so curious and unexpected a way, that there could have
been no possibility of deception. It happened that he had to call
upon a surgeon on business, and when he was there the surgeon said to
him, ‘You have never seen my little clairvoyante.’ He replied that
he never had, and should like to see her very much. He was invited to
call the next day, but upon his replying that he should be obliged to
leave town that evening, he said, ‘Well, you can come in at once. I am
obliged to go out; but I will ring the bell for her, and put her to
sleep, and you can ask her any questions you please.’ He (Lord Ducie)
accordingly went in. He had never been in the house in his life before,
and the girl could have known nothing of him. The bell was rung; the
clairvoyante appeared: the surgeon, without a word passing, put her to
sleep, and then he put on his hat and left the room. He (Lord Ducie)
had before seen something of mesmerism, and he sat by her, took her
hand, and asked her if she felt able to travel. She replied, ‘Yes;’
and he asked her if she had ever been in Gloucestershire, to which she
answered that she had not, but should very much like to go there, as
she had not been in the country for six years: she was a girl of about
seventeen years old. He told her that she should go with him, for he
wanted her to see his farm. They travelled (mentally) by the railroad
very comfortably together, and then (in his imagination) got into a fly
and proceeded to his house. He asked her what she saw; and she replied,
‘I see an iron gate and a curious old house.’ He asked her, ‘How do
you get to it?’ she replied, ‘By this gravel-walk;’ which was quite
correct. He asked her how they went into it; and she replied, ‛I see a
porch—a curious old porch.‘ It was probably known to many, that his
house, which was a curious old Elizabethan building, was entered by a
porch, as she had described. He asked her what she saw on the porch,
and she replied, truly, that it was covered with flowers. He then said,
‛Now, we will turn in at our right hand; what do you see in that room?’
She answered with great accuracy, ‘I see a book case, and a picture
on each side of it.’ He told her to turn her back to the book case,
and say what she saw on the other side; and she said, ‘I see something
shining, like that which soldiers wear.’ She also described some old
muskets and warlike implements which were hanging in the hall; and upon
his asking her how they were fastened up, (meaning by what means they
were secured,) she mistook his question, but replied, ‘The muskets
are fastened up in threes,’ which was the case. He then asked of what
substance the floors were built; and she said, ‘Of black and white
squares,’ which was correct. He then took her to another apartment, and
she very minutely described the ascent to it as being by four steps, He
(Lord Ducie) told her to enter by the right door, and say what she saw
there; she said, ‘There is a painting on each side of the fire-place.’
Upon his asking her if she saw any thing particular in the fire-place,
she replied, ‘Yes; it is carved up to the ceiling,’ which was quite
correct, for it was a curious old Elizabethan fire-place. There was at
Totworth-court a singular old chestnut-tree; and he told her that he
wished her to see a favourite tree, and asked her to accompany him. He
tried to deceive her by saying, ‘Let us walk close up to it;’ but she
replied, ‘We cannot, for there are railings round it.’ He said, ‘Yes,
wooden railings;’ to which she answered, ‘No, they are of iron,’ which
was the case. He asked, ‘What tree is it?’ and she replied that she had
been so little in the country that she could not tell; but upon his
asking her to describe the leaf, she said, ‘It is a leaf as dark as the
geranium-leaf, large, long, and jagged at the edges.’ He (Lord Ducie)
apprehended that no one could describe more accurately than that the
leaf of the Spanish chestnut. He then told her he would take her to see
his farm, and desired her to look over a gate into a field which he had
in his mind, and tell him what she saw growing; she replied that the
field was all over green, and asked if it was potatoes, adding that she
did not know much about the country. It was not potatoes, but turnips.
He then said, ‘Now look over this gate to the right, and tell me what
is growing there.’ She at once replied, ‘There is nothing growing
there; it is a field of wheat, but it has been cut and carried.’ This
was correct; but knowing that, in a part of the field, grain had been
sown at a different period, he asked her if she was sure that the whole
of it had been cut. She replied, that she could not see the end of the
field, as the land rose in the middle, which in truth it did. He then
said to her, ‘Now we are on the brow, can you tell me if it is cut?’
She answered, ‘No, it is still growing here.’ He then said to her,
‛Now, let us come to this gate—tell me where it leads to.‘ She replied,
‛Into a lane.’ She then went on and described every thing on his farm
with the same surprising accuracy; and upon his subsequently inquiring,
he found that she was only in error in one trifling matter, for which
error any one who had ever travelled (mentally) with a clairvoyante
could easily account, without conceiving any breach of the truth.”
If the preceding example stood alone, or if, in parallel cases, no
further phenomena manifested themselves, nothing more would be required
to explain the facts than to suppose that the mental fellow-traveller
reads all your thoughts, and adopts your own imagery and impressions.
But there are not wanting cases in which the fellow-traveller has seen
what was not in his companion’s mind, and was at variance with his
belief; while subsequent inquiry has proved that the clairvoyante’s
unexpected story was true. These more complicated cases prove that the
clairvoyante _actually_ pays a mental visit to the scene. But she can
do more; she can pass on to other and remoter scenes and places, of
which her fellow-traveller has no cognizance.
For example, a young person whom Mr. Williamson mesmerised became
clairvoyant. In this state she paid me a mental visit at Boppard;
and Mr. Williamson, who had been a resident there, was satisfied
that she realized the scene. Afterwards I removed to Weilbach, where
Mr. Williamson had never been. Then he proposed to the clairvoyante
to visit me again. She reached, accordingly, in mental travelling,
my former room in Boppard; and expressed surprise and annoyance at
not finding me there, and at observing others in its occupation. Mr.
Williamson proposed that she should set out, and try to find me.
She said, “You must help me.” Then Mr. Williamson said, “We must go
up the river some way, till we come to a great town,” (Mainz.) The
clairvoyante said she had got there. “Then,” said Mr. Williamson, “we
must now go up another river, (the Maine,) which joins our river at
this town, and try and find Dr. Mayo on its banks somewhere.” Then
the clairvoyante said, “Oh, there is a large house; let us go and
see it; no, there are two large houses—one white, the other red.”
Upon this, Mr. Williamson proposed that she should go into one of the
two houses, and look about; she quickly recognised my servant, went
mentally into my room, found me, and described a particular or two,
which were by no means likely to be guessed by her. When Mr. Williamson
subsequently came to visit me at Weilbach, he was forcibly struck with
the appearance of the two houses, which tallied with the account given
beforehand by the mental traveller. I have not the smallest doubt she
mentally realized my new abode. Then, how did she do all this?
The first question is, how does the clairvoyante realize scenes which
are familiar to her fellow-traveller? I cannot help inclining to the
belief that, in the _ordinary perception_ of a place or person, the
mind acts exoneurally; and that our apprehension (as I have ventured
to conjecture in Letter V.) comes thus always into a direct relation
with the place or person. There is a peculiar vividness in a first
impression, which every one must have observed; there is no renewing
that force of impression again. This fact helps my hypothesis. It will
be remembered again, that in Zschokke’s narrative of his seer-gift,
he never penetrated the minds of his visiters unless at their very
first visit. It is the same, even to a certain extent, with mesmeric
inspection of the mind. My friend, who consulted M. Alexis for me,
consulted him likewise for himself more than once. At the first visit,
M. Alexis traced an aggravation of his illness, a year before, to
distress occasioned by the death of two younger brothers at a short
interval. On my friend’s subsequent visits, M. Alexis marked no
knowledge at all of the latter occurrence. Slightly as these facts are
connected, they concurrently strengthen my notion of the occurrence
of an exoneural act of the mind in common perception. I suspect, I
repeat, that, in visiting new places, the mind establishes a direct
relation with the scenes or persons. Then, in the simplest case of
mental visiting, where the scene visited is familiar to the other
party, I presume that the clairvoyante’s mind, being in communion with
the mind of the other, realizes scenes which the latter has previously
exoneurally realized. Arriving thus at the scene itself, the
clairvoyante observes for herself, and sees what may be new in it, and
unknown to her fellow-traveller; and in the same way may pursue, as in
the mental visit made to myself at Weilbach, suggested features of the
locality, and be thus helped to beat about in space for new objects,
and at length to recognise among them, and mentally identify, persons
with whom she has already arrived at a mental mesmeric relation.
VIII. _Mesmerising at a Distance. Mesmerising by the Will_.—I have
not heard of a case in which a person has been _for the first time_
mesmerised with effect by one _out of the room_.
Generally the mesmeriser is very near to his patient at the first
sitting, often actually holding his hand—at all events so near that the
Od-emanation of his person might be expected to reach the patient. And
the patient is often sensible of new sensations, which he is disposed
to attribute to the physical agency of the operator on him. In Mr.
Braid’s cases, it seemed to me clear that the effects were mainly
brought about, as in common mesmerism, by his personal influence.
Afterwards, when a patient has by use become highly sensitive to Od,
and disposed to fall into trance, I have myself, by making passes _in
the next room_, succeeded in producing the sleep. And I have seen, with
open doors, mesmeric effects produced by passes at the distance of
ninety feet.
But with persons rendered through use extremely susceptible of mesmeric
impression, an effect may be produced by the habitual mesmeriser of the
patient at almost unlimited distances. The following instance is given
by Dr. Foissac in his valuable work on mesmerism, entitled _Rapports
et Discussions sur le Magnétisme Animal_, (Paris, 1838.) Dr. Foissac
speaks, in the first person, of an experiment made by himself on a
patient of the name of Paul Villagrand, whom he had been in the habit
of mesmerising in the usual way at Paris, where both resided.
“In the course of the June ensuing,” says Dr. Foissac, “Paul expressed
the wish to pass some days in his native place, Magnac-Laval, Haute
Vienne. I provided him with the means, and proposed to turn his journey
to scientific account by attempting to entrance him at the distance
of a hundred leagues. He was not to know my intention before the time
came; but on the 2d of July, at half-past five P.M., his father was
to give him a note from me, which ran thus—‘I am magnetising you at
this moment; I will awake you when you have had a quarter of an hour’s
sleep.’ M. Villagrand made the success of the experiment the more
decisive by not handing over my letter to his son, and so disregarding
my instructions. Nevertheless, at ten minutes before six, Paul being
in the midst of his family, experienced a sensation of heat, and
considerable uneasiness. His shirt was wet through with perspiration;
he wished to retire to his room; but they detained him. In a few
minutes he was entranced. In this state he astonished the persons
present, by reading with his eyes shut several lines of a book taken at
hazard from the library, and by telling the hour upon a watch they held
to him. He awoke in a quarter of an hour.”
One naturally doubts whether the physical influence of the Od force
can extend to this enormous distance; whether the agency ought not to
be regarded as purely psychical; whether, in short, the will of the
speaker may not have been the exclusive agent employed.
I think that there is a disposition, among experimenters in mesmerism,
to attribute too much to the agency of the will. There was with me
in the autumn of 1849 a young lady, who was extremely susceptible of
mesmerism. A gentleman who came with the family had been in the habit
of entrancing her daily, and at last she was so sensitive that a wave
of his hand would fix her motionless. His presence even in the room
affected her; and if he then tried to mesmerise her sister, she herself
invariably became entranced. The operator was a person of remarkable
mesmeric power. Then at my request, made unknown to her, he went to the
end window of the room, and, looking out upon the Rhine, tried at the
same time with the most forcible mental efforts to will her into sleep.
The attempt failed entirely. Another day that he was in my room, about
fifty feet from the room in which the young lady was sitting, he tried
again by the will to entrance her. But it was all in vain. Therefore,
if the will ever acts independently of Od influence, I am disposed to
think that its action in producing trance must be infinitely feebler
than the direct use of Od.
However, some are convinced of the positive agency of the will
in mesmerising. The following statement by Mr. H. S. Thompson of
Fairfield, made in a letter to Dr. Elliotson, published in the _Zoist_,
admits the inferiority in force of the will to the material agency of
Od, at the same time that it goes far to prove its efficiency.
“I have succeeded,” says Mr. Thompson, “in arresting spasms, and
taking away every species of pain, and in producing intense heat and
perspiration, by the will only; and in many instances without the
knowledge of the patients, who have been all unconscious of the power
I have been exerting, until after the results have occurred. At the
same time, I have generally found that the passes in combination with
the will, or attention, most readily produce the effects we desire; and
that manipulations are much less fatiguing to the operator than the
exertion of the will.”
Of an extremely sensitive patient, who was suffering with rheumatic
pains, Mr. H. S. Thompson observes, “A few passes put her to sleep,
though she was moaning as in great pain, and scarcely seemed to notice
what I was doing. After sleeping for a few minutes, her face became
composed, and she showed no symptoms of pain; but as I could not
get her to speak in her sleep, I awakened her. She looked very much
surprised, and said that she felt very comfortable and free from pain.
I told my friend that she was so sensitive that I thought that she
might be put to sleep by the will in a few minutes. The bed-curtains
were drawn, so that she could not see or know what was going on. I
fixed my attention upon her, wishing her to go to sleep. When we
looked at her two minutes afterwards, she was fast asleep. It was
agreed that the following day, though I should be thirty miles off,
the experiment should be tried again. A lady went at the time fixed
on. I purposely postponed the time half-an-hour, thinking that the
woman might have become acquainted with my intention, and go to sleep
through the power of the imagination. The lady’s account was, that she
called upon the woman at the time agreed on, and at first thought that
the experiment was going to fail, as she saw no symptoms of sleep; but
that in half-an-hour afterwards the patient went into a deep sleep,
which lasted some time. After this she went to sleep every day for a
fortnight at the same time, though I did not will her to sleep. She
says that she felt in a dreamy and happy state for some days after.”
I might add many similar facts to the above interesting observations.
The mass of evidence existing on the subject establishes beyond all
doubt that patients have been thrown into trances by persons who have
previously mesmerised them in the common way, at distances which seem
to preclude the idea of any physical agent having been the medium
of communication between the two parties. The operation seems to
have been in those instances mental. Then how is such a result to be
explained?—or by what expression can it be brought to tally with the
principles I am endeavouring to substantiate? I shape the answer thus:—
The first step is ordinary mesmerising; in other words, the operator
directs an Od-current upon the patient, the Od in whose system is
thereby disturbed; and initiatory trance ensues as the consequence.
Secondly, The mind of the patient thus entranced enters into relation
with, or is attracted towards, the mind or person of the mesmeriser.
I remember witnessing a most decisive instance in which the operation
of this attraction was singularly manifested. The place was Dr.
Elliotson’s waiting-room; the patient, a young man whom Mr. Simpson
had entranced. Mr. Simpson then moved about the room, standing still
at several points in it in succession. The young man seemed attracted
towards Mr. Simpson, to whom he drew near each time he stopped; then
he pressed against Mr. Simpson, jostling him out of his place, which
he planted himself in—his countenance bearing an expression of huge
delight at what he had achieved. But in half a minute he began to look
anxious and uneasy; and again—his eyes being shut all the while—he
set off in search of Mr. Simpson, and repeated the same scene. There
exists, it would appear, an attraction between the (mind of the?)
entranced person and (that of?) his mesmeriser, or (that of?) any
other person with whom the entranced person has secondarily come into
relation.
Then, thirdly, It may be presumed that, in phenomena which are purely
mental, space and distance go for nothing. But if this supposition be
admitted, it would be as easy for a mesmeriser to entrance by a mental
effort a sensitive and habituated patient at a hundred miles off as
at the end of the same room. The phenomenon thus viewed is wholly
exoneural. The one mind is supposed to be actually sensitive to the
influence of the other. Each of the two minds, though in different
degrees, energizes, it may be imagined, beyond its bodily frame. And
the mind of the patient feels the force of the mesmeriser’s will acting
upon it, and slips as it were at once, by the accustomed track, out of
the normal into the abnormal psychico-neural relation.
Still I cannot get rid of a lurking notion that, in the phenomena
last considered, the Od-force contributes an element of physical or
physico-dynamic influence. For, putting for the moment aside the idea
of mental action, what is to prevent two living bodies, that may be in
Od-relation, or in exact Od-unison, from physically influencing one
another at indefinite distances?
IX. _Trance-Diagnosis_.—From Boppard, where I was residing in the
winter of 1845-6, I sent to an American gentleman residing in Paris
a lock of hair, which Col. C—, an invalid then under my care, had
cut from his own head, and wrapped in writing-paper from his own
writing-desk. Col. C—was unknown even by name to this American
gentleman, who had no clue whatever whereby to identify the proprietor
of the hair. And all that he had to do and did was to place the
paper, enclosing the lock of hair, in the hands of a noted Parisian
somnambulist. She stated, in the opinion she gave on the case, that
Col. C—had partial palsy of the hips and legs, and that for another
complaint he was in the habit of using a surgical instrument. The
patient laughed heartily at the idea of the distant somnambulist having
so completely realized him.
The mesmeric discrimination of disease involves three degrees.
First, the clairvoyante placed in relation with the patient, either
by taking his hand, or by handling a lock of his hair, or any thing
impregnated with his Od, _feels all his feelings_, realizes his
sensations, and describes what he sensibly labours under. Her account
of the case thus obtained will be more or less happy, according to the
extent of her previous knowledge respecting ordinary disease.
Secondly, the clairvoyante, if in a higher state of lucidness, actually
sees and inspects the interior bodily construction of the patient,
whose inward organs are, as it would seem, lit with Od-light, for her
examination. Or she sees them by their Od-light, being in mesmeric
relation with the internal frame of the patient.
Thirdly, the clairvoyante, if still more lucid, foresees what will
be the progress of the malady; what further organic changes are
threatened; what will be the patient’s fate.
The first two points require no further comment. I reserve my comments
upon the last for another head.
X. _Mesmeric Treatment_.—Let me first advert to the use of artificial
trance as an anæsthetic agent in the service of surgery. There is
no doubt that, when a patient can thus be deprived of ordinary
sensibility, the resource is preferable to the employment of
chloroform. Not only is it absolutely free from risk, but its direct
effect is to soothe and tranquillize; whereas chloroform is but a
powerful narcotic, the effects of which are obtained through a brief
stage of violent physical excitement. Then, at each dressing—at any
moment, in short, when advisable—mesmerism may be again resorted to,
which chloroform cannot. The honour of having been the first to employ
mesmerism systematically, as an anæsthetic agent, belongs to James
Esdale, M. D., Presidency Surgeon at Calcutta. The reports of his
success, in a vast body of cases, many of the most serious description,
are given in the _Zoist_.
A second point is the employment of artificial trance as a universal
sedative; as a means from which, in all cases purely nervous, the most
admirable results may be expected and are realized; and from which, in
disease in general, singular and beneficial effects have been obtained.
This success was confidently to be anticipated, the instant that the
real nature of mesmeric phenomena was appreciated.
A third point is the employment of mesmeric passes, without the
intention or power to produce trance,—simply as a local means of
tranquillizing the nervous sensibility of a diseased part, and allaying
the morbid phenomena which depend upon local nervous irritation.
There is a fourth point under this head which will be regarded as more
questionable, viz. the power attributed to clairvoyantes of prescribing
treatment for themselves and others. Nevertheless, in their own cases,
where the prescriptions have been limited to baths, and bleeding, and
mesmerism itself, the boldness and precision of their practice, and
its success, have been such as to excite our wonder, and almost to
command our confidence. It does not, however, seem that the treatment
prescribed by clairvoyantes to others is equally certain; and when they
recommend drugs, it is clear that, adopting the fashion of the time and
country in medicine, they are only prescribing by guess, like other
doctors. But they sometimes guess very cleverly.
XI. _Phreno-Mesmerism_.—How great is my regret that I can no longer
take an active part in physiological inquiry! How great is my regret
that, in former years, when I worked at the physiology of the nervous
system, I undervalued phrenology! Prejudiced against it by the writings
of the late Dr. Gordon, by the authority of my early instructors, by
the puerile mode in which craniology was generally advocated, by the
superficial quality of the cerebral anatomy of Gall, I confined my
attention to what I considered sounder objects of investigation. But
now I have no doubt, not only that the metaphysical speculations of
Gall were in the main just, but, likewise, that a great part of his
craniological chart is accurately laid down. To connect phrenology
with severe anatomical research, to endeavour to determine the organic
conditions which interfere with the application of the science to
practical purposes, would be a task worthy the efforts of the best
physiological labourer. Then, if phrenology be true, and the organology
in the main correct, what is more likely than that directing an Od
current upon the cerebral seat of a mental faculty should bring
it into activity? I have myself witnessed the repetition of this
now common experiment, in a very unexceptionable instance; and the
success was perfect. The organs of veneration, of combativeness,
of alimentiveness, were successively excited; and in each case a
brilliant piece of acting followed. I must confess, however, that I
could not divest myself of the impression that, whatever pains we
took to conceal our plans, the clairvoyant young lady really knew
beforehand what was expected of her, and performed accordingly. I speak
in reference to the single instance which I have myself witnessed. I
cannot, however, refuse to credit the testimony of good observers—such
as Dr. Elliotson—to facts which seem to establish the genuineness of
phreno-mesmerism. In its double relation to phrenology and mesmerism,
this inquiry well merits attention.
XII. _Rapport. Mesmeric Relation. Psychical Attraction._—Without
presuming to place absolute confidence in the preceding speculations,
but, on the contrary, apologizing for their hypothetical character,
on the plea that any theory is better than none, let me now
recapitulatorily put in array the facts and principles to which the
terms at the head of this section refer:—
1. I hold that the mind of a living person, in its most normal state,
is always, to a certain extent, acting exoneurally, or beyond the limit
of the bodily person; but, possibly, always in conjunction with some
Od-operation.
2. I suppose that there must be laws of neuro-psychical attraction, or
that there are definite circumstances which determine our exoneural
apprehension to direct itself upon this or that object or person.
So, in common perception, the exoneural apprehension probably moves
back along the lines of material impression, to reach the object
perceived, which so attracts it.
So, in sudden liking or aversion at first sight—or, more properly, on
all occasions of meeting strangers—an exoneural mingling of reciprocal
appreciation takes place; different persons being differently gifted
with intuitive discernment, as others or the same with powers of
pleasingly affecting most they meet.
So Zschokke’s seer-gift would have been but the result of a greater
exoneural mobility of his mind, whereby he was occasionally drawn to
such mental affinity with a stranger, that he knew his whole life and
circumstances.
So in panic fears, in all cases where impressions seem heightened
by the sympathy of many, the power of psychical attraction we may
presume to be increased by its concentration on one subject, and the
participation of all in one thought. The Rev. Hare Townshend, in his
interesting work on mesmerism, declares that he has more than once
succeeded in the following fact of sympathetic mental influence. All
the members of a party then present have conspired against an expected
visiter; and when he came—carefully, at the same time, abstaining from
alluding to some special subject agreed on—they have striven silently
and mentally to drive it into his thoughts; and in a short time he has
spoken of it.
3. For the most lucid persons in waking-trance (either of spontaneous
occurrence, as in catelepsy, or when induced by mesmerism) the
exoneural apprehension seems to extend to every object and person
round, and to be drawn into complete intelligence of or with them. Such
a patient is “en rapport,” or in trance-mental relation with any or
every thing around, in succession or simultaneously.
4. In persons slowly waking in the most measured course of things out
of artificial initiatory trance into somnambulism, the mind is at first
exoneurally attracted to the mesmeriser alone. As a next step, the
mesmeriser, by putting himself in Od-relation with a third person, can
make him participator in the same attraction.
I do not here discuss Mr. Braid’s views, which are more fully
considered in a subsequent Letter. I have analyzed trance in its
character of a spontaneous pathological phenomenon. I have examined
its principal features as they present themselves when it is induced
by mesmerism. But facts have been brought forward by Mr. Braid, which
seem to establish that, in some highly susceptible persons, trance may
be brought on at will in another way, by their own indirect efforts,
apart from external influences:—as, for instance, by straining the eyes
upwards, the attention being kept some time concentrated on the object
or the effort. Certainly, doing this makes the head feel uncomfortable
and giddy, and seems as if it would lead to some kind of fit if
indefinitely prolonged.
XIII. _Trance-Prevision_.—Instances of trance-prevision are referrible
to three different heads.
1. The simplest trance-prevision is that of epileptic patients
(artificially entranced) who name, at the distance of weeks beforehand,
the exact hour, nay, minute, at which the next fit will occur. The
case of Cazot, (mentioned by Dr. Foissac,) who was in the habit
of predicting the accession of his fits with unerring precision,
terminated, however, in the following manner: Cazot had predicted, as
usual, when he should be next attacked: before the time came round,
however, he was thrown from a horse and killed. But no doubt can be
entertained that, had he not met with this accident, the next fit
would have occurred at the hour predicted. This is the simplest and
narrowest form of prevision: the clairvoyante can tell, in reference to
himself, or to any one with whom he is placed in relation, what will be
the course of his health. He can see forward what the progress of his
living economy will be, _other things continuing the same_.
2. The next feat is greater. Dr. Teste, in his most interesting
_Manuel de Magnétisme Animal_, gives the case of a lady, his patient,
who, when entranced, foretold the day and hour when an accident, the
nature of which she could not foresee, was to befall her, and from
it a long series of illness was to take its rise. Dr. Teste and the
lady’s husband were staying with her when the fatal moment approached.
Then she rose, and, making an excuse, left the room, followed by her
husband; when, on opening a door, a great gray rat rushed out, and she
sank down in a fit of terror, and the predicted illness ensued. In
this most decisive case, the prevision extended to an extraneous and
accidental circumstance, to which no calculation or intuition of her
natural bodily changes could have led her.
3. But there are instances which reach yet farther. Dr. Foissac
narrates the case of a Mdlle. Cœline, who, when entranced, predicted
that she would be poisoned on a certain evening, at a given hour.
What would be the vehicle of the poison she could not foresee, either
at the time when she first uttered the prediction, or on an occasion
or two afterwards, when, being again entranced, she recurred to the
subject. However, shortly before the day she was to be poisoned, being
questioned in trance as to the possibility of averting her fate, she
said, “Throw me into the sleep a little before the time I have named,
and then ask me whether I can discern where the danger lies.” This was
done, and Mdlle. Cœline at once said that the poison was in a glass
at her bed-side—they had substituted for quinine an excessive dose of
morphine.
Thus it appears that persons in waking trance can, first, calculate
what is naturally to follow in their own health, or in that of persons
with whom they are in mesmeric relation; can, secondly, foretell the
occurrence of fortuitous external events, without seeing how to prevent
them; can, thirdly, when endowed with more lucidity, discern enough to
enable them occasionally to counteract the natural course of external
events. Fate thus becomes a contingency of certainties. There is a true
series of consequences to be deduced from whatever partial premises the
clairvoyante may happen to be acquainted with. When she has more data,
she makes a wider calculation, certain as far as it goes. But other
premises, influencing the ultimate result, may still have escaped her.
So the utmost reach of genuine trance-prevision is but the announcement
of a probability, which unforeseen events may counteract.
I will conclude this head by introducing M. Alexis’s account of his own
powers of mesmeric prevision, in which the reader will see that his
experience has led him to view his conclusions as calculations upon
certain positive elements; yet he admits the possibility of powers
greater than his own: “On peut prévoir l’avenir,” said M. Alexis;
“mais lorsque cet avenir a des fondations positives. Mais annoncer un
fait isolé, un accident, une catastrophe, non. Cependant quelquefois
cela est arrivé aux individus, mais c’étaient des instruments de la
Divinité: ces hommes sont rares. Etant à une maison de jeu, je sçaurais
d’avance la couleur gagnante, surtout aux cartes. Mais à la roulette
cela me semble très difficile. Cela est de l’avenir. Les cartes, au
contraire, sont dans les mains d’un homme quelques minutes. Cependant
si l’on voulait appliquer la clairvoyance à une exploitation semblable,
je suis materiellement et moralement certain que la vue ferait faute.”
XIV. _Ultra-terrestrial Vision._—If a clairvoyante can discern what
is passing at the distance of one hundred leagues, why should not his
perception extend to material objects beyond our sphere?
Mr. Williamson tried to conduct one of his clairvoyantes mentally
to the moon; but, having got some way, she declared the moon was so
intolerably bright, that the effort pained and distressed her, and
accordingly Mr. Williamson relinquished the experiment, and happened
not to renew it.
M. Alexis, when entranced, in answer to my inquiries, declared himself
cognizant of the condition of the planets. He said that they were
inhabited, with the exception of those which are either too near to, or
too remote from the sun. He said that the inhabitants of the different
planets are very diverse; that the earth is the best off, for that man
has double the intelligence of the ruling animals in the other planets.
It would be the height of credulity to regard this communication as
more than a clever guess; yet a plausible guess it is, for if the other
planets are composed of the same material elements with the earth, it
is evident that the temperature of our planet must render these same
materials more generally available for life and economic purposes on it
than they would be in Mercury or Saturn.
XV. _Ultra-vital Vision._—The following is M. Alexis’s
trance-revelation as to the state of the soul after death. I presume it
is no more than an ingenious play of his fancy; but a young clergyman
of some acumen, to whom I communicated it, was half disposed to give
it more credit, and observed, with logical precision, that, viewing
the statement as an intuition, it would show the necessity of the
resurrection of the body.
“L’âme ne change jamais. Après la mort elle retourne à la Divinité.
Dieu a voulu attacher l’âme au corps, qui est un prison où Dieu a voulu
enfermer l’âme pendant qu’elle est sur la terre. L’âme ne perd jamais
son individualité. Après la mort, nos souvenirs ne nous restent pas.”
The last sentence is that to which my friend’s remark principally
referred.
XVI. _Nature of the Supreme Being._—The following striking expressions
were made use of by M. Alexis, when entranced, in answer to a string
of questions which I had sent to him on this subject. He declared, at
the same time, that he had never before been led to consider it in
his mesmeric state. I presume, therefore, that in his ordinary waking
state he is a Spinozist, and that, in place of an intuition, he simply
delivered an oracular announcement of his preconceived notions:—
“Il n’y a pas de parole humaine qui peut donner une idée de la
Divinité. Dieu c’est tout. Il n’a pas de personalité. Dieu est partout
et nulle part. Dieu est le foyer qui allume la nature. Dieu est
un foyer universel, dont les hommes ne sont que la vapeur la plus
éloignée, la plus faible. Chaque homme est l’extremité d’un rayon de
Lui-même. Il n’existe que Dieu.”