Chapter XIV: 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._

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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.

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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.”