Chapter V: Psycho-Sensory and Intellectual Phenomena (1)

Under this somewhat vague title I am bringing certain facts together, which differ greatly from those I have been examining. In reality, the facts so far related by me refer to material manifestations, and it was merely as an accessory, that I pointed out the intelligent character some of these manifestations presented. I will now describe the means best adapted for obtaining not _physical_ but _intellectual_ phenomena, properly so-called; that is to say, phenomena which are interesting solely because of the ideas expressed, or because of the signification of the images produced, and not at all because of the conditions under which they are obtained.

I have studied this category of phenomena with less interest than sonorous, motor or luminous phenomena, where observation is relatively simple. Intellectual phenomena can only be studied indirectly, and in order to verify them, we are generally obliged to trust to the statement of a third person. I think these are bad conditions of observation. This reserve made, I will divide these phenomena into two wide categories:—

1. Sensory automatism.

2. Motor automatism.

I. SENSORY AUTOMATISM

I thus designate phenomena produced by the spontaneous activity of our senses, and which do not appear to be due to exterior excitation. They border on hallucination. They are observed in the different sensory spheres. I will only examine olfactory, auditory, and visual sensations; tactile impressions were studied in the last chapter. As for gustatory sensations, they are very rare and without interest.

(_a_) _Olfactory sensations._—These consist of a special odour. I have never observed any in the seances at which I have been present. In one series, however, the medium associated the odour of Jasmine with the manifestation of certain personifications. To me this sensation seemed to be purely subjective; it was constant.

An odour of ozone is often perceived after luminous phenomena have been obtained, a fact which ought to be borne in mind. It may be compared with the odour of ozone, perceived in the vicinity of powerful static machines, which give off electricity at _very high potentiality_. Here is an analogy which is, perhaps, not altogether fortuitous; these facts, however, are unintelligible.

(_b_) _Auditory sensations._—I do not speak of sonorous phenomena. I now enter directly into the study of intellectual phenomena, that is to say, phenomena having a signification more or less precise and intelligible.

Auditory phenomena may be divided into two categories: provoked automatisms, and spontaneous automatisms or _clairaudience_. The first may be considered as hallucinations induced by diverse methods. The simplest method consists in the use of certain shells, horns, trumpets, or, in a word, any object capable of augmenting and allowing the perception of those external or internal sounds, which are not usually perceptible to the hearing. This is what is observed particularly with some sea-shells. When we apply them to the ear, we hear a murmur or a slight rumbling sound. This sensation is common to every one, and children are accustomed to play at ‘listening to the sound of the sea in the sea-shells.’

Some people do not hear this sound, or rather, when they listen, it quickly disappears and makes way for words and phrases. I know a subject with whom this faculty exists, but circumstances, unfortunately, have prevented me from studying him carefully. I point out, to the attention of observers, the interest which this automatism presents; the rapidity of communication is very great; in this way there is a greater output than with automatic writing, and it is less tiring for the sensitive. The only precaution to observe is to take down all he says in shorthand. We must accustom him to repeat, instantly, everything he hears, because words heard in this way are speedily forgotten—as in dream—but amnesia is not the sole point of resemblance between this automatism and dream. It has much analogy with visual automatism, but it has an interesting advantage over the latter. Visual images are those which offer the highest degree of symbolism; they are vague, wanting in precision, and require interpretation. Auditory hallucinations, on the contrary, have greater precision. Perhaps this is due to language, the usual manner in which auditory images are revealed. On the other hand, they are not so rich, and contain less detail than visual images do.

The meaning of auditory messages is seldom very clear; but there are cases where it is wonderfully so. Such are the chief features of provoked auditory phenomena. I have given too little attention to this phase of manifestation, to be able to enter into a more complete analysis of it.

_Clairaudience_ is more frequent; perhaps this is due to the negligence of experimenters, who do not think of using the methods of induction I have just described.

I have rarely observed the existence of isolated auditory hallucinations; I have always observed them associated with visual hallucinations; therefore I will study them after these last, when examining mixed phenomena.

(_c_) _Visual sensations._—Observable, visual phenomena are very numerous, and have already been the object of exhaustive studies. I will again divide these into provoked and spontaneous phenomena. Of course, I am speaking of hallucinations experienced by sensitives out of seance hours. In this part of my analysis, I am replacing the word _medium_ by the word _sensitive_, which seems to me to define more correctly the distinguishing features, of those persons who have the faculties I am going to describe. This word conveys the correct idea, that the facts observed belong to the sphere of sensibility.

One of the oldest known methods of inducing visual hallucination is the use of a crystal ball. I have no need to recall to mind the practices of former fortune-tellers, nor the history of John Dee, nor the numerous recitals handed down to us by ancient chroniclers, novelists, etc. The crystal ball and the black mirror are the best methods; but the ordinary mirror, a glass of water, a decanter, a shoemaker’s wooden ball, the finger-nail, the watch-glass, any polished surface, in fact, may serve to induce hallucination; but I only recommend the first methods—they are certainly the best; a glass of water, a decanter, a syphon of seltzer-water, the thumb-nail, polished surfaces, etc., may serve to induce hallucination, but these last methods only succeed with very highly sensitive subjects.

I have carefully studied crystal-gazing, and though I have remarked individual differences in each sensitive, I think I may say that, as far as working methods are concerned, I have come to the following conclusions:—

The material of which the object is composed is not a matter of indifference. Balls of rock-crystal have given me the best results. I have seen people, incapable of receiving visions with ordinary glass, obtain them in a tiny ball of natural crystal. Objects in rock-crystal have the inconvenience of being very expensive.

Ordinary glass gives good results, but care should be taken that the ball contains no air bubbles or other defects. They must be as homogeneous as possible.

The ball may be spherical or egg-shaped. I think the elliptical form is, perhaps, the best; reflections are more easily avoided with this shape.

The size is a matter of indifference; personally, I prefer rather large balls. I have, nevertheless, obtained just as good results with balls of only one centimetre in diameter as with balls of six or seven centimetres in diameter.

The crystal may be white, blue, violet, yellow, green; it may be opalescent or transparent; but, I think, the best results are obtained with white transparent balls; blue or amethyst coloured crystals are also very good, and tire the eyes less than others.[8]

[8] As crystal-gazing seems to me one of the most curious
phenomena to study, I will take the liberty of mentioning
that well-made crystal balls may be found at Leymarie, 42 Rue
Saint-Jacques, Paris; at the Society for Psychical Research,
20 Hanover Square, London, W.; or Mrs. Venman, Sugden Road,
Lavender Hill, London, S.W. The price of the globes varies from
6s. to 9s.; those of ovoids, from 8s. to 10s. The best thing to
do would be to look for a ball in rock-crystal, the price of
which would vary from 4s. to £8. They must be cut to order, for
it is extremely difficult to find any ready made. M. Servan,
jeweller at Bordeaux, furnishes good ones.

When looking into the ball, it should be sheltered from reflection, as it should offer a uniform tint, without any brilliant points. To obtain this result, it may be enveloped in a piece of dark foulard or velvet, or held in the hollow of the hand, or even at the fingertips, provided the conditions mentioned above have been observed. The object ought to be placed within the range of normal vision; the gaze should not be directed on to the surface of the crystal, but _in the crystal itself_. The knack of gazing inside the crystal is speedily acquired.

Mirrors also give very good results. They can be made like ordinary mirrors, or black like the famous mirrors of Bhatta, which are made of a special composition. Sensitives say that the mirror should not reflect anything: it should present a uniform tint, _e.g._ that of the sky, blue or grey, but without the mixture of these colours as would be the case with a cloudy sky; in a room the ceiling may be reflected, if it be monochrome.

Under these conditions of operation I have sometimes observed results so extraordinary, as to confound the imagination. They appeared to me to tend towards demonstrating Kant’s idea of the relativity and contingency of time and space. It is very difficult to admit, that these two ordinates of our perceptions are exactly what they seem to be, unless we push the theory of coincidence to the absurd. But this would be shutting the door on all discussion, and on all intelligent examination of a fact apparently abnormal.

My observations have been made with different persons, and a great many have been pointed out to me. Sensitives, possessing the faculty of seeing in the crystal, are not rare. The analysis of the facts I have observed, or of which I hold first-hand reports, allows me to class these ‘hallucinations’(?) under six categories of increasing interest:—

_A._ Imagination—images, ordinary hallucination.

_B._ Forgotten souvenirs, recalled to memory in the form of visions.

_C._ Passed events, of which the sensitive affirms to have always been ignorant.

_D._ Present events, certainly unknown to the sensitive.

_E._ Future events.

_F._ Facts of doubtful interpretation.

This grouping shows the curious gradation observed in these visions. First of all, disorderly and illogical activity as in dreams; then, more orderly activity: knowledge of forgotten facts, knowledge of past events unknown to the sensitive, knowledge of present events unknown to the sensitive, apparent prescience. I will give some examples.

_A._ Imagination—images are by far the most frequent. This phenomenon is analogous to ordinary visual hallucination, and seems to me to present the characteristic features of dream. This is hardly the place to discuss the state of consciousness during dream; for the form I am giving my recital would not bear any long psychological analyses. I will simply confine myself to resuming the conclusions of the detailed analysis, which I made in a work dealing with this subject.

The consciousness which works habitually in us, that which is manifested in our everyday life, is the _personal consciousness_. It is around this that are grouped the souvenirs accessible to our normal personality, to that part of ourselves which we call ‘I.’ This _personal consciousness_ asserts itself in the highest acts of the psychic life, in the comparison of images one with another, in abstraction, judgment, and the voluntary selection of acts, which appear to us equally possible. This selection is the expression of our voluntary activity, personally conscious; it is determined by the comparison of acts between themselves, by the examination of their probable advantageous or disadvantageous consequences, by the appreciation of their morality or immorality, according to the social laws of the day, etc. Personal consciousness is the foundation of all our intelligent life; practically, it alone appears to exist, and its disappearance seems to us to annihilate our own personality.

In reality, such is not the case. With certain invalids, complete or partial modifications of the personal consciousness may be observed. Sometimes the notion of personality disappears. There are patients who suddenly forget everything, even to their own name. All their antecedent life is effaced, and they appear to return to the state they were in at birth. They have to learn again how to speak, to eat, and to dress themselves. Sometimes the amnesia is not so complete. I have been able to observe a patient, who had forgotten everything which had any connection whatever with his own personality. He was absolutely ignorant of all he had ever done, did not remember where he was born, who his parents were, or what his name was. He was thirty years of age.

Organic memory and memories organised apart from the personality subsisted. He could read, write, draw, and displayed a certain amount of musical talent. Amnesia, with him, was limited to all facts connected with his antecedent personality; it presented the type of systematised losses of memory. This is what is called in medical phraseology _amnésie de dépersonnalisation_.

In a lesser degree, amnesia only affects limited periods of life. Epileptics and hysterics often present the phenomenon of _ecmnesia_, a term chosen by the eminent professor of clinical medicine at the university of Bordeaux, M. Pitres, who was the first to point out this phenomenon with hysterical subjects. The patient forgets a part of his life, believes he is ten, fifteen, thirty years younger than he really is, and behaves as though he were at the age he thinks he is. The souvenirs of his ulterior life cease to be accessible to his conscious personality, which finds itself brought back exclusively to the elements which constituted it, at the time the ecmnesia carries him to. Every idea, foreign to that diminished personality, remains unintelligible to him. In order to make him understand, we must speak to him only of what he knew at the epoch to which he has been brought back.

Besides these disappearances or _amoindrissements de la personnalité_ of the personal consciousness, which may be permanent or transitory, we also observe _qualitative_ without _quantitative_ alterations of the personal consciousness. These are changes or variations of personality, which have been well studied in hysterical subjects, but which also exist in other invalids, notably epileptics and victims of certain poisons.[9]

[9] Interested readers will find a complete analysis of
these facts in Azam’s celebrated work, _Hypnotisme et double
conscience_, Alcan; in Pitres’ book, _Leçons sur l’hystérie_,
Alcan; and in Janet’s _L’automatisme psychologique_, Alcan. It
is essential to know at least these three books, if we wish to
observe, profitably, the delicate phenomena I am discussing in
this chapter.

To sum up, the personal consciousness is susceptible of total or partial disappearance, or of being replaced by another consciousness which can be absolutely foreign to the normal personal consciousness, or preserve more or less close relationship with it, _e.g._ the patient who undergoes a change of personality may retain all the souvenirs of the normal personality A and those of the new personality B. But in an almost absolute manner the normal personality A is ignorant of all which concerns B. This is the type of periodical amnesia.

The clinical study of diseases of personality permits observation of the above facts. I ought to say that, in practice, they do not present the simplicity of the _schéma_ which I have just given. Curious problems arise from the nature itself of amnesia, its degree, its mechanism, problems impossible to treat here.

But the facts I have summarily exposed already reveal an important truth, which curable, transitory amnesia clearly demonstrates: this is, that souvenirs can exist in a latent state in the general consciousness, and be inaccessible to the personal consciousness. Let us suppose that A forgets the ten previous years of his life—the result of a fall or nervous crisis. This amnesia will perhaps last for six months, during which period he will believe himself to have returned to the age of fifteen, when he is really twenty-five. All the events of his life between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five will have entirely disappeared from his memory for six months; then they will, more or less abruptly, reappear. Their temporary disappearance clearly shows that these souvenirs have been preserved somewhere, and that they were not really lost. We cannot affirm that they were accessible to the general and impersonal consciousness in every case; but nevertheless we can affirm it for hysteria, according to the observations of Pitres, Janet, and others; and, according to Régis, for certain poisons. The facts studied by these savants show, that souvenirs inaccessible to the normal personality were known to the general consciousness. For example, an amnesic patient can recover all his souvenirs when he is put to sleep; this is what Régis has demonstrated even in certain cases of amnesia from blood-poisoning. Janet, on his side, has established that these souvenirs, forgotten by the personal consciousness, can be evoked by certain automatisms (notably automatic writing), and are therefore at the disposition of the impersonal consciousness, that is to say, of that general consciousness of which personal consciousness seems to be only a part.

This fact, which the study of nervous pathology has demonstrated, is certainly general. The troubles of hysteria and other nervous diseases only exaggerate a normal phenomenon. Our personality does not burden itself with all the souvenirs, which our general consciousness appears to possess: the greater part of the things we have seen, learned, heard, etc., are forgotten; but this forgetfulness is probably relative, and only extends to the personal consciousness. It is also variable, and, according to circumstances, the souvenirs accumulated in the general consciousness are at one time more accessible to the personal consciousness, and less so at another time. If the personal memory be over-excited, _exalté_, we have hypermnesia. The facts which spring up in the personal consciousness have been so completely forgotten by it that they sometimes appear to be new; souvenirs present themselves to the consciousness without being identified by it, and we commit errors on the localisation of the mnesic image in time and space; this is what we call _paramnesia_.

The variations of the personal consciousness relative to memory, whose rôle in the constitution of the personality of the _self_ is preponderant, are therefore translated clinically by amnesiæ, hypermnesiæ, paramnesiæ; but the variations pointed out are not limited to memory, they extend to other operations of the mind. I indicated just now, that the personal consciousness was only a facet of that more general consciousness existing in us, a consciousness where all antecedent experiences are piled up, where all our sensations are registered, be our personal consciousness aware or unaware of them. This general consciousness is in itself impersonal, at least in relation to our normal personality. This latter is only one of the currents which circulate in that consciousness, its preponderance, as Myers has indicated, is probably only a consequence of its greater practical utility in daily life, and not an indication of its absolute superiority; but there is one thing to point out, this is that we are accustomed to connect with that personal consciousness all the operations of our usual intelligence. Our reasonings, volitions, judgments, whatever they may be, are grouped around our conscious personality, or rather are founded upon its apparent activity. The consequence is, that every time the sentiment of personality in the consciousness varies, our reasonings, volitions, and judgments will vary in the same proportion. Thoughts which come to us will cease to be chosen by us, and will apparently come of their own accord; their associations will escape all logic, their succession will be rapid and incoherent for our personality, which will look on at their evolution powerless to direct it. The weakening of the sentiment of personal participation, in the acts of the psychical life, is then translated by the diminution of our faculty to choose the images evoked in the consciousness, by the diminution of our power of control over their evolution, by the helplessness in which we are, not only to judge them according to the rules of reason, but also to reject the most illogical interpretations, which offer themselves to us or impose themselves upon us. In a word, the weakening of the will, of the judgment, is associated with that of the personal consciousness.

We also observe a corresponding attenuation in the faculty of abstraction. Ideas are accompanied by their pictured or motor representations. Sometimes they are only expressed by pictures, and are presented in a symbolical form, or are dramatised; _e.g._ the idea of the death of a relative will not be expressed with precision, as is sometimes the case in verbal or written hallucinations, but by a picture representing the relation in a coffin, or depicting his burial.

Such are the psychological expressions of the weakening of the personal element in the consciousness.

We must not conclude, therefrom, that the impersonal consciousness is incapable of intelligent operation. No such thing; and events prove that the impersonal or subliminal consciousness is capable of accomplishing, with great perfection, the most complicated intellectual acts, without the personal consciousness being aware of it. In these cases, when the result of the operation is transmitted to the personal consciousness, this latter perceives it under the symbolical or dramatical form I pointed out.

Observation shows, that all the features I have just described as being met with in cases where participation of the personal consciousness with our mental or physical activity is diminished, are to be found in hallucination and in dreams.[10]

[10] Readers, interested to know my ideas on this point, will
find them more extensively developed in my book, _L’Amnésie et
les troubles de la conscience dans l‘épilepsie_.

I beg to be excused for this digression; it was indispensable in order to develop, in a comprehensive manner, the analogies which are presented between dreams and hallucinations provoked by crystal-gazing, and the transcendental character which these visions can present, without being, however, supernatural. These considerations set forth, I arrive at the recital of some facts I have observed.

The way in which imagination-images or hallucinations are induced, with most of the sensitives I have examined, is nearly always the same. I will describe it, pointing out at the same time that the formation of the hallucinatory image is the same in nearly every case, be the visual impression imaginary, or be it the expression of a true fact, past, present, or future.

I have shown how to hold the crystal, and how to look at it. The sensitive, having fixed his eyes on the crystal for a few seconds or minutes—the time varies according to individuals—sees an opalescent, milky tint come over the crystal. I know a sensitive,—an intelligent and well-educated lady—who compares this impression, to that produced on the eye by rising mists and fleeting clouds. For her, the milky tint in the crystal is in movement. It breaks away like a cloud or mist, to disclose the hallucinatory image completely formed. To another sensitive, the cloud appears first of all immobile, and then becomes condensed into grey forms, which gradually become coloured and mobile. This sensitive enters so completely into the hallucination, that, as a rule, he thinks he is transported to the landscape he is gazing at; he has not only a hallucination of sight, but a hallucination of all the senses. Most people see the image in the crystal, but believe they see it life-size. The dimension of the crystal has no influence on the apparent dimension of the image;—at least, this is what I have nearly always remarked.

What I say of the mode of induction of the image in the crystal can be applied to any other mode of induction—mirror, glass of water, decanter, etc.

The cause of the vision is sometimes an association of ideas or images, which is easy to trace. Here is an example: I was once in a spiritistic group, and among those present were several sensitives presenting subconscious or paraconscious automatisms, with the features of ordinary somnambulism. I begged one young girl, of about fifteen or sixteen years old, to look into a white crystal ball of four centimetres in diameter. Almost without transition she saw goldfish in the ball. Every one knows the spherical bowls in which goldfish are put; as it happened, there was a bowl of this kind in the room. The idea of a transparent bowl was naturally associated with that of goldfish; this subconscious association provoked the visual image of the fish. Facts of this kind are the simplest; their psychological mechanism is easy to penetrate; the associations of images are almost logical, and their dreamlike character is scarcely marked. In the above case, the impossibility of placing the fish in a crystal ball is not perceived by the consciousness, which suffers the succession of images empirically associated; the globe of water containing the fish resembled in its form and aspect the transparent glass ball; therefore, the latter evoked the image of the former, and the fish which it contained. This association is very intelligible.

Here is another example borrowed from experiments I made with a remarkable sensitive—the one with whom the hallucination becomes generalised. This person, looking in the crystal, perceived a railway-station, and saw portmanteaux in the luggage-room. He then plunged right into the dream, and imagined he was going to take away his own portmanteau; he entered the luggage-room, took his trunk and opened it. It contained a particularly horrible dead body, which leaped out of the portmanteau, and bitterly complained of being disturbed. It threw itself upon the sensitive, who immediately fled, pursued by the dead body. After a desperate chase, the sensitive darted into a road which crossed a park. This park, in reality, is situated at more than six hundred miles from the railway-station, where he believed he saw the portmanteaux: this distance had disappeared in the vision. The dead body took a corresponding road; the two roads met on a hill, where the persecutor made a dead set at the sensitive; the latter fell, and the dead body stopped and bent down to strike him. The visionary gave him a kick in the stomach, and stretched him full length on the ground. The hallucination then ceased abruptly, and the sensitive found himself back in his room, in front of the crystal. The vision was so intense, that he was still upset with fright, and breathless from running.

This hallucination is of a dreamlike character, and reminds one of certain kinds of delirium. I have often questioned the sensitive carefully, in order to try to reconstitute the psychological elements of his hallucinations, and for this particular hallucination, as I have related it, I will indicate the result of my inquiry:—

1. The sensitive has often seen dead bodies. He is not afraid of them; he feels no repugnance even when touching them.

2. He has travelled a great deal, but has no souvenir of any connection whatever between his portmanteau and dead bodies, except the associations which stories of the nature of the Gouffé affair may evoke.[11]

[11] A lawyer who was murdered, and whose dead body, much
hacked about, was found in a trunk in the luggage-room of a
railway-station in France.

3. The chase occurred at a spot known to the sensitive, who had, as it happened, gone, one day, to that very spot on a walking expedition with one of his friends, under some conditions recalling those of the hallucination, notably the choice of different roads; the two roads corresponded and met as in the vision.

4. He did not fall, and has no conscious souvenir, which can explain his struggle with the dead body.

This curious hallucination shows us an admixture of true images and fantastic images, these latter, however, composed of real elements. The duration of this hallucination, so full of events, was very short. This is another feature observed in dreams. We see here the trace of queer associations, some explicable, others not so. The idea of a railway-station awakens that of portmanteaux; that of the dead body is already abnormal, but comprehensible, the sensitive being sufficiently acquainted with contemporary criminal literature to know of the Gouffé affair. The leap of the dead body out of the valise, the flight of the sensitive, and the pursuit of the dead body after him, are abnormal associations. The first is difficult to explain; the flight and pursuit are more easily explained. The first of these ideas naturally suggests the second. The idea of pursuit awakens the idea of running; this, in its turn, awakens the idea of the place where the sensitive has really run a race; and, notwithstanding its illogism, that association is accepted, though the railway-station, where the scene begins, be more than six hundred miles from the park where the chase takes place.

All these associations bear the characteristic stamp of dreams.

_B._ Visions of past and forgotten facts present a different appearance. The following is an example:—The sensitive, in the course of conversation, was asked to sing one of Delmet’s songs. He could not remember two lines of one of the verses, and was obliged to pass them over. I had the curiosity to improvise an experiment, and I begged the sensitive to look into a crystal. The forgotten lines were read by him in the crystal. Facts of this nature—and they are very numerous in technical literature—can be explained by the action of the impersonal or subliminal consciousness. The souvenir forgotten by the personal consciousness exists in the general consciousness, which has need of scenic effects in order to transmit its message to the personal consciousness; hence we have sensorial, automatic, visual activity, and the reading of the forgotten words, which appear printed in the crystal. I will not dwell upon facts of this kind; they are so well known.

_C._ The third category of visions comprises the perception of past events, which the medium affirms never to have known. It is evident that these facts can, in the greater number of cases, come under the preceding category, and be but forgotten souvenirs. But I have reason to think it is not always so, and that a certain number of cases exists, in which knowledge of the past appears to be acquired in a supernormal manner. This is only an impression, which I draw from the reality of certain premonitory facts observed by me.

As an example of the facts I am describing at present, I will cite the following:—

A sensitive one day looked into the crystal; he suddenly saw the words ‘Salon de 1885,’ and a series of pictures, announced by their titles, passed before his eyes. The pictures, thus seen by him, had really been exhibited in the salon of 1885. In 1885 the sensitive was too young, to have had any personal knowledge of the salon of that year; but nothing is easier than to read descriptions of past salons, or to procure reproductions of the pictures exhibited there. The sensitive, whose good faith is above suspicion, affirms having no conscious souvenir of a like reading. He believes he has never seen or read anything concerning the salon of 1885, but he confines himself to affirming the non-existence of a conscious souvenir. It is, nevertheless, possible, as he acknowledges, that he may have glanced over a former catalogue or criticism without remembering it.

Facts of this kind are never convincing, for it is very difficult to know exactly, if the sensitive has ever had knowledge of the fact, which emerges in the vision. I cite the above case, as an example only, without pronouncing an opinion on its signification.

_D._ I have had no occasion of observing induced hallucinations representing a scene actually happening; at least, I have never been able to verify any in a satisfactory manner.

_E._ The cases of premonition I have obtained are, on the contrary, relatively numerous. I have, personally, observed some of them, and have obtained first-hand accounts of others. Here are my most interesting cases:—

I had given a crystal to Monsieur X., a friend of mine, who is much interested in psychical researches. Madame X. has the faculty of seeing in the crystal, but I have never had the opportunity of interrogating her upon her visions. The fact, which her husband related to me, concerns a woman who is cashier in a large restaurant at Bordeaux. Monsieur X., who sometimes lunches at this restaurant, one day showed the crystal to the cashier; the latter looked into it and saw therein a small dog. She did not recognise the dog, and the vision appeared to have no interest.

Shortly afterwards, Monsieur X. was again lunching in the same restaurant. The cashier called him up to her, and told him she was much astonished, because she had just received the present of a small dog, exactly like the one she had seen in the crystal.

Another lady sometimes sees visions in a mirror; these visions are formed on the glass of a wardrobe, which is placed facing a window, thus partly satisfying the conditions indicated further back. The recital, which was given me of these visions by her friends, was confirmed by the lady herself.

She saw a man seated on the footpath of a certain street, the man was wounded, in a particular manner, on the forehead; a piece of skin was torn away and lay over the eye. Among other details about his costume was a sack, which the man had rolled round his neck; on the sack the letters V. L. were printed. The lady, in her vision, saw herself speak to the wounded man, take him to the hospital and have his wound dressed.

She went out on the morning of the next day, met the wounded man at the spot she had seen him the day before, and her vision came true to the letter, even to the detail of the sack around the neck, and the letters which were printed upon it.

Another time this lady perceived, always under the same conditions, that is in the glass of the wardrobe, one of her friends, who is married to a government officer abroad, where he is consul of a sister-power. This lady, in the vision, appeared to be walking up the street Tourny at Bordeaux, just where it opens out into the square Gambetta. The details of the costume were noted by the observer:—a light cloak, and a blouse made of Scotch plaid with gold trimming about the neck. Two or three days afterwards, the percipient happened to be in a tram. As the tram arrived at the junction of the street Tourny and the square Gambetta, she perceived her friend, exactly as the vision had represented her.

Here is another and last example, still more significative than the preceding, for the vision was related to me eight days before the event took place, and I myself had related it to several persons before its realisation. A sensitive perceived in a crystal the following scene:—A large steamer, flying a flag of three horizontal bands, black, white, and red, and bearing the name _Leutschland_, navigating in mid-ocean; the boat was surrounded by smoke; a great number of sailors, passengers and men in uniform rushed to the upper-deck, and the sensitive saw the vessel founder.

Eight days afterwards, the newspapers announced the accident to the _Deutschland_, whose boiler had burst, obliging the boat to stand to. This vision is very curious, and as the details were given me before the accident, I will analyse it with care.

In the first place, one thing strikes us:—The premonition was not exactly fulfilled. The _Deutschland_ met with an accident, it is true; from the nature of that accident, it must have been surrounded with vapour; the crew and passengers would probably have rushed to the upper-deck; but happily, this magnificent vessel did not founder. On the other hand, the sensitive read L instead of D; but this detail is of no importance, the foreign word being probably badly deciphered. Lastly, one thing worthy of noting is the complete absence of personal interest in this vision, for the sensitive has no connection whatever with Germany, and was ignorant, at least consciously, of the existence of this boat, though he might certainly have seen illustrations of it. Evidently, we must not attach too much importance to this premonition, but the same sensitive has given me many other curious examples of the same kind; and these cases, compared with others I myself have observed, or with those of which I have received first-hand accounts, render the hypothesis of coincidence very improbable, but do not exclude it in an absolute manner. Such as they are, I think these facts are sufficiently interesting, for systematic observation of the visual phenomena I point out to be undertaken by competent persons, with true sensitives, and _not with hysterical subjects_, who seldom, if ever, give good observations.

The facts of premonition which I have observed or controlled, and of which I have just given a few examples, cannot, I think, be reasonably regarded as coincidences. I have already said that this hypothesis, without being inadmissible, is insufficient. Think of the immense proportion of probabilities, which accumulate in favour of the reality of a fact, as soon as the details themselves accumulate. The visions relative to the foreign friend, and to the wounded man, are instructive from this point of view, given the great number of circumstances seen beforehand:—exact locality, exact details of the wound, the costume, etc. It is a pity these facts were not observed under good conditions. That of the _Deutschland_ is much less demonstrative, because of the inaccuracy in the foreseen issue.

If we compare these facts with those which have been already registered by the Society for Psychical Research, we will come to a conclusion, which confirms the simple impression that my own observations have given birth to in my mind. What is the cause of these premonitions? What signification have they with respect to the reality of time? Why do these visions come to people, who often have no interest whatever in knowing of them? These are all so many questions I am putting, without being able to indicate their solution. We must observe, with the greatest care, the facts which are presented, accumulate them in as great a number as possible, and, before considering their causes, be, first of all, doubly sure of their reality.

I have indicated, further back, the analogy of the greater part of these visions with dreams. I will point out finally another resemblance which is, perhaps, not the least interesting. This is, that these visions are often quickly forgotten. We must make the sensitives we observe write down their visions immediately; for, in the greater number of cases, a rapid amnesia mixes up the details and causes them to disappear. These visions, therefore, react upon the memory in the manner of dreams.

_F._ Certain visions are of a doubtful character. Here are some examples:—Several times a sensitive sees, in the crystal, a long procession of personages clothed in white enter a sort of crypt, which looks like the entrance to a tunnel. The vision presents no incoherence, but appears to have no signification, either as a souvenir evoked unconsciously or as a subconscious symbolical image admitting of interpretation.

And now, I am going to relate a vision, which, doubtless, will particularly interest occultists. I was operating with a sensitive, who was ignorant, I think, of their theories and those of spiritists; who had no notion whatever about larvæ, and the forms given to such in the literature of occult sciences. Now the sensitive, of whom I speak, twice saw the vision of a tree standing out detached from the others in a forest. The earth appeared white, the tree itself was white, and appeared to be covered with white pears hanging from its branches. In his vision the sensitive drew near, and perceived that the pears were in reality white beasts of hideous appearance; they were like heads without bodies, terminating in long tails. These beings were suspended to the branches by their tails. This vision seems to me to be purely imaginary, but I have related it because the curious forms described concord, I believe, with the aspect given to larvæ by occult writers. I cannot positively affirm the sensitive’s absolute ignorance of mystic literature, but I have serious reasons to admit it. Must we simply see herein a morphological association between the different forms of larvæ, of tears embroidered on funereal garb and pears! This explanation would be possible, if the sensitive knew the signification of the word larvæ, and the form lent to these fabulous beings.

I must now cut short the recital of these observations, and confine myself to resuming the conclusion to which I have come:—This is, that sensorial automatisms and especially visual hallucinations have the same characteristic features we note in dreams, the same weakening of the power of control of the will and judgment over the selection of images, over their coherence, their likelihood, and the same rapid amnesia. These are characteristic features, which we observe in every case, where the sentiment of personality is impaired. This is just as noticeable in purely imaginary hallucinations, as in hallucinations which appear to have a real foundation. This fact seems to me of great importance, for it permits us to think, that one of the conditions of the transcendental perception of facts past, present or even future is the disappearance of the voluntary and personal activity of the consciousness. Less fit to act actively, it would be more inclined to be passively impressed by influences, which are at present indeterminable; the transmission to the normal consciousness of the impressions perceived by the impersonal consciousness appears to take place in the same way as in a dream, that is to say by dramatisation,—by a scene which expresses the idea in a concrete and symbolical manner.

There is therefore a _rapprochement_ between these sensory automatisms and dreams and telepathy. Several premonitory dreams have been related to me by people of absolute good faith; I will give two, which were told me by magistrates. The first concerns a man holding a high rank in the magistracy. He had sold, at an advantageous price, the wood on a property he possessed in the neighbouring country, but the bargain was not definitely settled, and was to be concluded in an interview arranged for between the owner and the purchaser. On the eve of the day when the magistrate should have gone to the country, his wife dreamt that she was present at the woodman’s visit. In her dream, the latter offered a price, which was inferior to the price originally agreed upon, and covered his treachery with all sorts of periphrases, trying to prove that the bargain remained excellent for the owner. Finally he turned towards Madame X., who was present at the interview, and said to her, ‘This is fair speaking, is it not, Madame?’ Madame X. related the dream to her husband, telling him also that she thought the bargain would not come off. Her dream was fulfilled literally, and the phrase heard in her dream was uttered by the woodman. I received this account from the magistrate himself, an eminent man and one of the most brilliant intellects I have known.

The second dream is, perhaps, still more curious; it was told me by one of my colleagues, a calm, positive man with not the slightest tendency whatever to mysticism, employing his leisure hours in hunting rather than with metaphysics. He is, moreover, an experienced magistrate, and occupies a distinguished position at a court in the centre of France. At the time he had the dream I am going to relate, he was _juge d’instruction_ in a small town, where there are some important factories. He was closely connected with a large manufacturer, and was accustomed to go and see him nearly every day. He knew the staff of the factory, and notably an overseer, a native of Flanders; this man, after many years of faithful service, wished to return to his birthplace and left his employer, remaining, however, on the best of terms with him.

Some months afterwards my colleague dreamt, he had taken his usual promenade and paid his visit to his friend. In his dream, he saw the overseer and manifested his surprise at seeing him; the overseer replied, ‘Yes, sir, it is I. I could not find any work in my own country, and i’ faith, I came back here.’ My colleague attached no importance to this dream; on the morrow he went, as usual, to see his friend, and in the factory found the overseer whom he had seen in his dream. He exchanged the same conversation he had held with him in his dream.

Facts of this kind are very numerous. Perhaps they are only simple coincidences, but, as with sensory automatisms already described, I cannot help thinking, that coincidence does not explain everything. The concording details are often so numerous, that the probabilities in an extremely large proportion are against pure hazard. Richet, however, has carefully studied the Calculus of Probabilities, and I will not go into the question. I simply give my impression, persuaded as I am that those who study these facts impartially will come to the conclusion, that hazard does not explain everything.

The two dreams which I have taken as examples offer us cases of telepathy, that is to say, the impression perceived in a way which the ordinary senses do not explain. Telepathy has been carefully studied by Myers, Gurney, Podmore, Sidgwick, Ermacora, and discussion on this question can only be pursued, if the work of these savants has been studied. Telepathy appears to me to be established in a definitive manner, but I have no personal example to cite. However, a very great number of cases have been related to me, by persons who have received telepathic impressions. I know of many people who have had veridical hallucinations, either during sleep or when awake. The following are some examples borrowed from my circle of friends or relations:—

One of my great-uncles had married a coloured woman at Martinique. This lady, though highly respectable, was the victim of tenacious prejudice on the part of the white creole families on the island, and my uncle’s marriage aroused the displeasure of his family. He left Saint-Pierre, and came to Bordeaux. His wife’s mind suddenly gave way; she had dangerous attacks of fury, but the union between my great-uncle and his wife was so close, and their reciprocal affection so profound, that my relation would not consent to a separation and have her cared for in an asylum. He fell a victim to his devotion; his wife killed him in an attack of high fever. One of my great-aunts, the dead man’s sister, living at Paris, was awakened in the middle of the night by her brother’s voice calling her. This hallucination coincided with the death of my great-uncle.

An intimate friend of my mother’s, a creole living at Bordeaux, had been present at the embarkation of a family belonging to Martinique, that was returning to Saint-Pierre. Some time afterwards she had a dream in which she saw a steamer founder; the stern of the vessel rose above the waves, and she was able to read the name of the boat; it was the one on which her friends had embarked. The vessel was lost and not a life saved.

Here is another interesting fact, in which (1) a sentiment of anxiety, the cause unknown to the conscious personality, corresponds with the serious illness of a near relation; (2) the telepathic, premonitory hallucination of a telephonic call preceded the real call by two hours. This fact was communicated to me by one of my friends.

‘Here is the exact account of the fact I mentioned to you.

‘On the evening of the 17th October 1901 I went to bed feeling greatly disturbed; I could not define the cause of my mental anguish, for I was in perfect health. This trouble persisted, and my sleep was haunted by painful nightmare.

‘At half-past four I suddenly awoke, having distinctly heard the sound of my telephone bell. I ran to the apparatus, and answered the ring. The night operator replied that he had not rung me up, and that nothing unusual was happening. I had therefore been labouring under a hallucination, provoked by a particular haunting impression.

‘At seven o’clock in the morning, the telephone again sounded, and I was put into communication with my brother-in-law residing at Biarritz. He told me that my sister, Madame V., had, in the night, been struck with congestion of the brain, and was in a critical state.’

All these facts may be considered as coincidences; their attentive study, their thorough analysis, and their careful, thoughtful comparison can alone make us suspect, that hazard has nothing whatever to do with their production.

I may compare these cases of telepathy to facts of exteriorisation of sensibility, and of vision at a distance. I have given very little study to these facts, for they do not enter into the habitual plan of my researches; I have sometimes observed them, but under conditions which do not satisfy me. My observations, however incomplete they may be, tend, nevertheless, to make me think, that the phenomenon described by de Rochas, under the name of _extériorisation de la sensibilité_, is real. I have met with two sensitives, who presented the phenomenon in a fairly clear manner in a waking state. I was led to make the following experiment with one of these sensitives. As soon as she entered the seance-room and had taken off her cloak, I took hold of the garment and pinched the lining. The sensitive mentioned feeling a certain sensation, rather feeble however, in the part of her body which had been covered by the garment in the place I had pinched it. The first time I tried this experiment, the sensitive had not been warned, and was surprised at the sensation she felt. Needless to say, I took precautions to make sure, this lady did not see what I was doing. I have observed, that this particular sensibility disappears very rapidly; at the end of forty or fifty seconds it has ceased to exist.

I have asked a lady friend of this sensitive’s to try the same experiment with her more private garments, especially with the corsets. Sensibility should then be greater.

I think that the observation of this fact, which I point out with much reserve, not having submitted it to serious study, is easier than is supposed, by employing the method I indicate, that is to say, by pinching or pricking garments which the sensitive has just thrown off.

I have had occasion also of verifying this phenomenon, under the technical conditions indicated by Colonel de Rochas. Very few sensitives present it in a marked manner, and it has seemed to me necessary to push the artificial sleep rather deeply. This expression may seem somewhat antiquated, to those who have frequented our learned neurological cliniques; but I cannot help thinking, that a real difference exists between the different phases of somnambulism, if they be observed. I speak of a difference of degree. It seems to me that, once the subject is put to sleep, the repeated action of the passes determines a particular state, pointed out by ancient magnetisers and exposed in detail by de Rochas, in which the subject appears to lose the notion of his personality, and be in close dependence upon his ‘magnetiser.’ I have experimented very little in this order of research, and I can permit myself only to give indications; I am unable to affirm a personal conviction. The few experiments I have made, however, tend to make me think that de Rochas is quite right in speaking of superficial and profound states. I am not convinced that the passage from the one to the other takes place with the regularity that my eminent friend has observed, but the fact pointed out by him is, I think, true in a general way. I am going to support my opinion with an example.