Chapter I: Part 1

_The Case Against Spiritualism_

BY JANE T. STODDART

HODDER AND STOUGHTON LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

MCMXIX

_Contents_

CHAPTER I
NEW VOTARIES OF SPIRITUALISM 17

CHAPTER II
DISTURBERS OF THE DEAD 31

CHAPTER III
THE MEDIUM 43

CHAPTER IV
THE MEDIUM’S “CONTROL” 57

CHAPTER V
TABLE PHENOMENA 71

CHAPTER VI
AUTOMATIC WRITING 85

CHAPTER VII
IS THERE DANGER FROM THE OTHER SIDE? 99

CHAPTER VIII
SPIRITUALISM AND CHRISTIANITY 111

CHAPTER IX
QUALITY OF THE ALLEGED MESSAGES 133

CHAPTER X
THE CHURCHES AND THE SÉANCE 147

CHAPTER XI
THE APPEAL TO SCIENCE 159

_Preface_

Rudyard Kipling, with his robust common sense, has warned intruders who seek to establish a traffic with discarnate beings that they are entering on a dangerous path.

“Oh the road to En-dor is the oldest road
And the craziest road of all.
Straight it runs to the Witch’s abode,
As it did in the days of Saul.
And nothing has changed of the sorrow in store
For such as go down on the road to En-dor!”

That old road has never been more crowded than it is to-day. The merchants who travel on it appear to ignorant onlookers laden with balm and spicery and myrrh. Owing to the propagandist activities of honoured men like Sir Oliver Lodge, Sir W. F. Barrett and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the cult of Spiritualism has received a new advertisement, and is proving itself, in certain quarters, a rival to Christianity. Its literature is growing rapidly, and the wish has often been expressed for a brief, comprehensive, up-to-date exposition of the arguments on the other side. This book is designed to supply that need. While the writer is well acquainted with the older historical works, both of Britain and America, the publications of the Society for Psychical Research, and the standard Continental treatises, these chapters deal mainly with Spiritualism in the war-period and after. The strongest arguments against “dabbling” are to be found, as will be seen, in the writings of Spiritualists themselves. Warnings are heard from many pulpits, though with the exception of Dr. Barnes in his admirable short pamphlet, “Spiritualism and the Christian Faith,” none of our leading preachers seems to have grappled with the subject in detail. The writer may therefore claim to have broken new ground. “The Case Against Spiritualism” is set forth under many aspects, and it is hoped that the book may prove acceptable to Christian teachers, as well as to inquirers in general.

_Chapter I_

NEW VOTARIES OF SPIRITUALISM

Expert writers believed twenty years ago that Spiritualism was declining. The late Mr. Frank Podmore, about the time of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, called attention to the disappointing results attained by the Society for Psychical Research. The number of believers, he said, had been much larger in the seventies, and the things they believed much more difficult of acceptance. There was a time, he thought, when the number of avowed Spiritualists in this country and the United States might fairly have been reckoned by tens of thousands, but between 1882 and 1897 (the first period of the Society’s investigations) zealous students had been brought up against defeat. “No positive results,” he said frankly, “have been obtained worthy of record.” There was a “cooling-off” in public interest. Sir William Crookes, though a believer in Spiritualism, had seemed to discourage intrusive curiosity in a famous passage. “In such an inquiry,” he wrote, “the intellect demands that the spiritual proof must be absolutely incapable of being explained away; it must be so strikingly and convincingly true that we cannot, dare not, deny it.”

The truth is that Spiritualism breaks like waves on the modern world; and when each successive wave has spent its force there follows a period of lassitude. Can we wonder that a tidal wave should have followed the late war? Three classes, at least, have felt themselves strongly attracted towards psychical studies.

I

There are, first, the idle, curious gazers who under the late Roman Empire would have been thronging to the worship of Isis or Mithra. Sir Samuel Dill and Dr. Reaveley Glover have painted these men and women, some of whom had great possessions. Their successors were found in Paris under the Second Empire, when society, for a short time, was bewitched by the revelations of Douglas Home. Neither time nor space, it was believed, had any existence for him. Through his means the spirits of St. Louis, Pascal, Rousseau, and even ancient Greeks like Aristides and Solon, were consulted, and if we may trust French memoir-writers of the period, they replied with touching alacrity. Père Lacordaire, the foremost preacher of his time, was almost deceived by the phenomena. He wrote to Madame Swetchine in 1853 that he had heard tables talk and made them talk. “They have told me some very remarkable things about the past and the present.” “A poor and vulgar phenomenon,” was his verdict, yet he did not think it was all imposture. The Roman Catholic Church, in our own day, speaks with sharper condemnation. Under the Second Empire, about the time of the Crimean War, table-turning and spirit-rapping were the amusements of every drawing-room. While our great war lasted the need for distraction was felt by those who in normal times are known as “the pleasure-loving classes.” Individuals among these classes--hundreds, nay thousands, of them--were occupied to the limit of their strength in public service. Crowded theatres and music-halls proclaimed their need of respite and excitement. Spiritualism had its distractions to offer to the weary rich.

II

It has drawn recruits, in the second place, from that large body of the middle and working-class population which has no link with any of the organised Churches. Mr. George Haw, writing in the _Daily News_ census volume of 1904, gave a picture of Sunday as spent by non-churchgoers in greater London. Among the artisans “the day opens with an idle morning, divided between nap and newspaper. After a late dinner the afternoon sees a saunter, sometimes with wife and children, through the streets, or a walk into Epping Forest ... or by the banks of the Lea. An early supper and a pipe close the day.” That section of the working classes represented by clerks, shop assistants and warehousemen spent Sunday, as Mr. Haw had observed, in visiting and entertaining. “Thoughts of taking part in public worship are as far from their minds as thoughts of taking part in public life.” “Games and concerts in their little parlours beguile many a Sunday night.” Spiritualist lecturers to-day are teaching such people to “form home circles” for the evocation of spirits.

III

From all these classes, whether rich or poor, is drawn a companionship of the bereaved. It is from them that the new Spiritualism expects a multitude of recruits, for their eyes are looking towards the shadows. Sunday morning in greater London was once “a time for tending little gardens,” but the boy who used to “help father” with his spade and pail may be resting now in a hero’s grave by Somme or Tigris. Perhaps he has no sleeping-place, even among the undistinguished dead. His body may have been utterly obliterated, his end may be a subject for mysterious surmise. If the Churches cannot speak to the mourners words of Divine consolation, Spiritualism will rush in with its false and fatal comfort. Shallow writers have told us in recent months that “the dead are sleeping in their graves, already half-forgotten.” So it seems, because life’s routine proceeds as usual in homes where “one is not.” If Mr. George Haw’s description of the day of rest in outer London could be brought up to date, we should doubtless hear of nap and newspaper, country walk and evening concert, with a cigar as the breadwinner’s treat in the after-dinner hour. But the clay cottage of materialism has begun to rock and crumble. Every incident of the war is marked and dated according to its bearing on the personal sorrow. Nor is it surprising that ignorant persons should brush aside contemptuously vague warnings as to the peril of dabbling in Spiritualism. There is no more superstitious peasantry in the world than that of Brittany, nor any with a darker array of ghostly legends. Yet we are told that on St. John’s Eve, when the bonfire is lit and the priests and choir have gone past in long procession with banners and relics, places are set beside the glowing embers for those whose bodies are in the churchyard, that they, too, may look in at the dancers. In every land which war has visited arms are stretched out towards the young and beautiful who have fallen, and the cry is heard from mourners’ lips, “I am determined to take the hazard of the night along with you.”

IV

New inquirers are, for the most part, wholly ignorant with regard to the history of Spiritualism, which Mr. Waite, our chief living occultist, has called “a masque of anarchy.” The most respectable leaders of the movement are only too anxious to break with the ugly, disreputable past. A well-known authority says in _Light_[1]: “It has been the misfortune of Spiritualism that many of its public expositions have been conducted in circumstances the reverse of dignified. It has suffered from contact with stupidity and cupidity, and its enemies have made the most of their numerous opportunities of holding it up to ridicule.”

Just as the Government of Ebert and Scheidemann pleaded with the Allies: “The past is past; the old bad system is gone for ever; let us write on this clean slate,” so the newer exponents of Spiritualism--even men like Sir Oliver Lodge and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle--seem inclined to pass over, _sub silentio_, all that was guilty and fraudulent in the records of seventy years. Such an amnesty could not be granted in public affairs. The framers of the Peace Treaty of 1919 were guided in every step they took by a knowledge of the crimes committed by Germany during the war. The greater her misdeeds, the sterner were the guarantees required. “Take up the study of Spiritualism _without prejudice_,” says the devotee to the ignorant new-comer. The words of Mr. Robert Hichens are in place, though they refer to the testing of individual character: “The question is, What is prejudice? The facts of a life are facts, and cannot leave one wholly uninfluenced for or against the liver of that life. If I see a man beating a dog because it has licked his hand, I draw the inference that he is cruel. Would you say that I am narrow-minded in doing so? If one does not judge men and women by their actions, by what is one to judge them?”

As with individuals, so with movements. “It is infinitely to be regretted,” says the French Spiritualist leader, Camille Flammarion, “that we cannot trust the loyalty of the mediums. They almost all cheat.” Are we to pass over such a sentence as of trifling importance, or shall we receive it as a warning against all attempts to pry into the fate of our dead by unlawful and unholy methods? “The judgment, the estimate, _where they are_,” wrote Bishop Francis Paget, “is formed with perfect knowledge, perfect love; and our loose guesses, our hasty impressions, our blundering words are like voices in the noisy street outside a church.”

FOOTNOTES:

[1] May 10th, 1919.

_Chapter II_

DISTURBERS OF THE DEAD

Modern Spiritualism has its roots in Necromancy, a practice hated in all ages by sober and reverent minds. It was only the worst type of sorcerer, according to Mr. Waite, who attempted to communicate with the spirits of departed men and women. Mediæval magic had a by-path leading towards the abyss, “an abhorrent and detested branch, belonging exclusively to the domain of black magic.” The alchemist was bidden by his rules to pray as well as work. The astrologer was taught that in the last resort there is a law of grace by which the stars are governed, that “Christ rules all things, even the stars.” Though poisoning alchemists, like Alasco, in “Kenilworth,” or star-gazers, like Galeotti, in “Quentin Durward,” deceived Courts and peoples with a pretence of superior knowledge, there was nothing actually odious to the human mind in their professed and ostensible business. Necromancy, as Sir William Barrett points out, incurred the reprobation of Hebrew prophets, the statesmen and men of science of their day. From Moses to Isaiah, says this writer, we find them united in warning the people against any attempts to peer into and forecast the future, or to meddle with psychical phenomena for this or any lower purpose. “These practices,” he says, “were condemned ... irrespective of any question as to whether the phenomena were genuine or merely the product of trickery and superstition. They were prohibited ... mainly because they tended to obscure the Divine idea, to weaken the supreme faith in, and reverent worship of, the One Omnipotent Being, whom the nation was set apart to proclaim.” Sir W. F. Barrett quotes with approval the words of Sir George Adam Smith in his “Isaiah”: “Augury and divination wearied a people’s intellect, stunted their enterprise, distorted their conscience. Isaiah saw this, and warned the people: ‘Thy spells and enchantments with which thou hast wearied thyself have led thee astray.’ And in later years Juvenal’s strong conscience expressed the same sense of the wearisomeness and waste of time of these practices.”

It is fair to add that Sir William Barrett is convinced that the perils which beset the ancient world in the pursuit of psychical knowledge do not apply to _scientific_ investigation to-day. Enough for our purpose that he lays emphasis on the warnings of Holy Scripture against intrusion into unhallowed realms.

How shall we explain the deep repugnance of the human mind, at its best and sanest, against any attempt to summon back the souls of the departed?

I

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in “The New Revelation,” admits that the opponents of Spiritualism are guided in part by that strange instinct which warns men and women to keep off forbidden ground. The man who would violate a grave is naturally regarded with loathing. Dickens, in “A Tale of Two Cities,” has drawn such a person in Tellson’s outside porter, Jerry Cruncher. Jerry’s good wife looks with horror on the night work of the body-snatcher, and Mr. Lorry says sternly to his employee: “You have had an unlawful occupation of an infamous description.” With even deeper aversion does the unsophisticated mind turn from those who seek to rend the veil which hangs between this world and the next.

II

If the stern voice from Sinai says “Thus far and no farther,” a tenderer reproach, breathed from earliest ages, warns presumptuous intruders who would disturb the dead. Here, again, we venture to quote the words of Mr. Waite: “There was a very strong and prevailing impression that the dead were at rest, and that the attempt to disturb that rest was a monstrous profanation.” Tennyson’s lines express the feeling of bereaved hearts, even where there was no hope of survival, in lands where Christianity was unknown:

“Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace:
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.

“Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
Sleep full of rest from head to feet;
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.”

Many sayings of Scripture confirm the Christian’s assurance that the faithful dead, having passed the waves of this troublesome world, are at rest in their desired haven. Newman’s words on the calm of Ascensiontide belong in part not only to the exalted Saviour, but to each of His brethren now absent from the body: “He is in the very abyss of peace, where there is no voice of tumult or distress, but a deep stillness--stillness, that greatest and most awful of all goods which we can fancy--that most perfect of joys, the utter, profound, ineffable tranquillity of the Divine essence. He has entered into his rest.”

Jesus said: “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; I go that I may awake him out of sleep.” St. Paul wrote: “I would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are asleep.” The Church does not interpret these and other passages as teaching that the dead are wrapped in profound unconsciousness, or that they are wholly unconcerned with dear ones left on earth. New activities may claim their interest, while old memories remain alive.

“For the breed of the Far-going,
Who are strangers and all brothers,
May forget no more than others
Who look seaward with eyes flowing.”

But the New Testament use of the word “sleep” ought at least to warn us against meddling with their sacred rest.

III

Spiritualist teachers are not without a sense of the impropriety of such attempts, when pressed on grounds of curiosity alone. Sir William Barrett advises that those who have attained the assurance of survival by means of the séance should not pursue the matter further, but rather learn more of the spiritual world and spiritual communion from the Christian mystics of all countries. He recommends especially a study of the writings of Swedenborg. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, unlike Sir W. F. Barrett, regards Spiritualism as a religion, but he advises his readers to get away from the phenomenal side, and learn the “lofty teaching” from such books as those of Stainton Moses. The cult of the séance, he says, may be very much overdone. “When once you have convinced yourself of the truth of the phenomena, the physical séance has done its work, and the man or woman who spends his or her life in running from séance to séance is in danger of becoming a sensation-hunter.” In all such writing there is a note of uneasiness. The séance is not regarded as a “means of grace” for the believer in Spiritualism, therefore the outsider should avoid these dark and perilous ways. “Not for nothing,” says the Rev. Cyril E. Hudson, “has the Church throughout her history discouraged the practice of necromancy, the morbid concern with the dead which must inevitably interfere, and does in fact interfere, with the proper discharge of our duties in that plane of existence in which God has placed us.”[2]

FOOTNOTES:

[2] _Nineteenth Century_, May, 1919, p. 919.

_Chapter III_

THE MEDIUM

In ordinary trance-mediumship, at least four distinct entities are involved. There is first the inquirer, next the medium, thirdly the medium’s alleged “control” or controlling spirit, and, lastly, the presumed discarnate being who speaks to the inquirer through the “control” and through the medium.

I

“Mediumship” is a word with ugly associations, as every honest-minded Spiritualist will admit. It used to be said that the Psychical Society found its chief occupation in exposing fraud and trickery. The great Russian authority, Aksakof, complained bitterly of the frequent transmission of obviously false messages. He wrote of “the deception which appeared along with the dark séance and materialisations, and which was confirmed in my experience, not only from literature, but also through my personal relations with the most celebrated professional mediums.” He would have agreed with Mrs. Sidgwick’s words: “The chief scandal of Spiritualism is the encouragement it gives to the immoral trade of fraudulent mediumship.”

On that point, inquirers should note, there is no dispute at all among responsible investigators. In the earlier stages of the movement exposures were so numerous that a theory was evolved to account for them. It was admitted that in many cases the medium cheated, but it was alleged that this was done unconsciously, and that the fraud was really perpetrated from the other side. The late Professor De Morgan wrote of certain phenomena: “If these things be spirits, they show that pretenders, coxcombs and liars are to be found on the other side of the grave as well as on this.” The idea was also elaborated that an uncongenial “circle” might induce bad spirits to play tricks with the medium.

“The cheating medium,” as Mr. Waite puts it, “was sure of his defence. He was caught red-handed, but it was the ill-conditioned circle that attracted the ‘unprogressed spirits’ to tempt him. He carried the baggage of a conjuror on his tours, but the real infamy rested with the persons who had dared to trespass on the liberty of the subject by ransacking his private effects.” Kind-hearted men and women would make any excuse rather than admit that a favourite “psychic” had been guilty of conscious deception.

Since the bad side of mediumship is admitted, it is needless to re-array the historic evidence. Let us turn from the past to the present, and ask what has been the cumulative effect of so many disastrous exposures on the leaders of the Spiritualist movement in our own day.

II

Four names stand out on that side as specially authoritative: Sir W. F. Barrett, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mr. J. Arthur Hill, and Sir Oliver Lodge. Three of these men are eminent in the worlds of science and literature, while the Spiritualistic writings of Mr. Hill deserve attention for their knowledge, fairmindedness and sanity.

(1) Sir William Barrett refrains from citing any evidence obtained through paid professional mediums, and has evidently a low esteem for this class. He welcomes the action of the Psychical Society in clearing off “a number of those detestable professional rogues who prey on the grief and credulity of mankind.”[3] The very word “medium,” he acknowledges, is usually associated in the public mind with various degrees of rascality, and he says emphatically that “so long as paid mediums and dark séances are encouraged, and rogues and fools abound, the evil odour which surrounds the name ‘medium’ is likely to remain.”

He also recognises that many so-called communications from the unseen are merely the unconscious revelation of the medium’s own thoughts, or latent memory, or subliminal self.[4] Even with honest “psychics” there is a natural tendency not to disappoint the sitter when a fee is paid, “and the temptation arises to supplement genuine by spurious phenomena.”

Super-normal gifts, in the view of our most experienced authority, are rare and elusive, and require patience, knowledge and discrimination on the part of the inquirer.[5] Sir William Barrett dissuades uninstructed persons from resorting to mediums; and it is clear that he desires the total elimination of the commercial element.

We need to guard against self-deception, he thinks, even in people whose character is beyond reproach.

(2) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle greatly dislikes the commercial element in mediumship. In a letter to _Light_[6] he pleads for the “training and segregation of mediums.” Like Sir William Barrett, he condemns the whole system of paying by results. “It is only when the professional medium can be guaranteed an annuity which will be independent of results,” he says, “that we can eliminate the strong temptation to substitute pretended phenomena when the real ones are wanting.” He points out that mediumship in its lowest forms is a purely physical gift, with no relation to morality.

(3) Mr. J. Arthur Hill, as Sir A. Conan Doyle tells us,[7] has been for many years an invalid, stretched on his back in bed. A strong and athletic young man, he was suddenly reduced to absolute helplessness by a heart-wrench sustained while cycling up a hill. The volumes he has written under sad physical disabilities are among the most influential now read in Spiritualist circles, and their quiet, unfanatical tone commends them to outsiders. Mr. Hill, like the late Frank Podmore, whose place he has partly taken as the historian of the movement, has a thorough knowledge of the older literature and journalism, both American and British. He admits deliberate fraud on the part of professional mediums, and is sceptical with regard to “materialisation.” It is not unlikely, in his opinion, that sitters who await, in darkness and expectancy, the appearance of discarnate personalities, may “pass into a mental state not quite normal, and closely analogous to hypnosis.”

Mr. Hill thinks it inevitable that doubt should linger in the mind when the financial element enters at all into mediumship, and he advises that this element should be eliminated as far as possible. He discusses very frankly the evidence obtained from non-professionals. “We have subliminal memory to deal with, and that is more difficult to exclude than ordinary fraud.”

The best class of Spiritualist teachers are fully aware of the attitude of caution imposed upon them by the gradual progress of medical investigation into the workings of the unconscious mind.

“One of the principal difficulties in the way of admitting an element of super-normality--whether telepathy, clairvoyance or communication from the dead”--remarks Mr. Hill,[8] “is the unknown reach of subliminal memory.... Great care is necessary as to what we say to sensitives who are helping us in experimentation, also close knowledge of their lives, their reading, their associations, in order to estimate the probability or improbability of this or that piece of knowledge ever having reached them through normal channels.” He advises inquirers to err on the safe side, setting aside as non-evidential anything that the sensitive may reasonably be supposed to have ever known.

(4) Sir Oliver Lodge regards the medium as “a delicate piece of apparatus, wherewith we are making an investigation.” “The medium is an instrument whose ways and idiosyncrasies must be learnt, and to an extent humoured, just as one studies and humours the ways of some much less delicate piece of physical apparatus turned out by a skilled instrument maker.”

These words of Sir Oliver Lodge raise a serious question. Do our investigators care enough about the moral and physical injury which the “sensitive” may suffer under the trance condition? Sir William Barrett notes that D. D. Home suffered severely after a long series of séances. According to the testimony of Sir W. Crookes, he lay pale, speechless and almost fainting on the floor, “showing what a drain on his vital powers was caused by the evolution of the ‘psychic force.’” The Rev. Walter Wynn, in “Rupert Lives!” says of a medium that it took nearly ten minutes for him to pass under control “after many strange bodily contortions which are not pleasant to witness, but are quite natural if we are to assume that a discarnate spirit controls his body.”

Prostration occurred, as the New Testament records, when our Lord cast a spirit out of some poor human frame. The liberated were restored by Him to normal health and vigour. St. Mark’s words are in strange contrast to the recurrent trance experiences of modern mediumship. “And the spirit cried, and rent him sore, and came out of him, and he was as one dead, insomuch that many said, He is dead. But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose.”

Would He not lift up and restore and revitalise those who at the séance seem to ignorant onlookers to be invaded by some alien personality?

FOOTNOTES:

[3] “On the Threshold of the Unseen,” p. 124 (1918).

[4] _ibid._

[5] “On the Threshold of the Unseen,” p. 257 (1918).

[6] May 10th, 1919.

[7] In the Introduction to Mr. Hill’s book entitled “Spiritualism, its History, Phenomena, and Doctrine” (Cassell).

[8] “Spiritualism,” pp. 127, 128.

_Chapter IV_

THE MEDIUM’S “CONTROL”

Professor Jacks remarked in a recent address[9] that the whole problem of Spiritualism is largely centred in the “controls.” The “control” professes to be the spirit of some departed person, which has taken possession of the entranced medium, and which causes the medium to speak or write in an abnormal manner. Sir Oliver Lodge writes of “a separate intelligence ... which some think must be a secondary personality--which indeed certainly _is_ a secondary personality of the medium.”[10] Elsewhere he states very clearly the divergence of view among psychical students with regard to this mysterious entity. “This personality,” he says, “is believed by some to be merely the subliminal self of the entranced person, brought to the surface, or liberated and dramatised into a sort of dream existence, for the time.” Others think we have here a case of dual or multiple personality, while a third section believe it to be in reality the separate intelligence it claims to be.[11]

I

It is hardly surprising that Spiritualists should differ among themselves as to the nature of the controls, for some of these controls are very curious people. Let us consider, for instance, the group which appears in “Raymond.” One of the most active is “Moonstone,” who tells inquirers that he was a Yogi, who lived as a hermit on earth, “a good life, but a selfish one.” He now desires to help humanity, “and so that is why I came back to my Medie, and try to bear through him the sorrows of the world.” Another control is “Redfeather,” who is apparently of North American Indian origin, though this is not distinctly stated. At one point the spirit of the supposed Raymond says, “Chap with red feather helping.”[12] “Redfeather” remarks when first taking command, “I come dis little minute to try experiment. If we succeed, all right; if we don’t, don’t mind.... Who could help better than me?... Long ago I was killed.”[13]

To relieve the tension of a strongly emotional scene which follows, an old Irishwoman named Biddy takes control. She begins: “Sure it’s meself that has come to speak. Here’s another mother.... I come to help to soothe the nerves of the medium.... I was a washer-woman, and lived next a church, and they say cleanliness comes next to godliness! One of my chains is to help mothers.”

Most singular of all the controls in “Raymond” is the Oriental girl “Feda,” who in her broken language talks of “Yaymond,” and pronounces three-syllabled words in a careful and drawn-out manner. The controls, as Dr. Jacks says, are often remote people, and he mentions the case of an Egyptian priest belonging to the time of one of the Pharaohs.

What are we to think of “Dr. Phinuit,” that singular control of Mrs. Piper, who described himself as a French doctor born at Marseilles about 1790? He gave particulars of his birth, education, and life in Paris, where, according to his own account, he died about 1860. Enquiries failed to reveal any trace of his existence. He gave no indication of possessing any scientific knowledge of medicine. More surprising still, his knowledge of French appeared to extend only to a few simple phrases, which might have been familiar to the medium. As Mr. J. Arthur Hill remarks, “The French doctor spoke no more French than Mrs. Piper herself might be supposed to know.”[14]

How many Spiritualists believe to-day that William Grocyn, the teacher of Erasmus, acted as a control to Mr. Stainton Moses? Or that the group of Broad Church controls--Imperator, Rector and the rest--who inculcated their theology through the mediumship of Mr. Moses, afterwards invaded the personality of Mrs. Piper?

II

Responsible leaders of the Spiritualist movement incline to a verdict of Not Proven, while impartial students, among whom Mrs. Sidgwick is pre-eminent, have expressed the strongest doubts as to the real nature of the controls. Writing of Mrs. Piper’s trance phenomena (which were closely observed by experts) Mrs. Sidgwick says that the trance “is probably a state of self-induced hypnosis in which her hypnotic self personates different characters either consciously and deliberately or unconsciously and believing herself to be the person she represents, and sometimes probably in a state of consciousness intermediate between the two.” Sir William Barrett also believes that the messages “often spring from, and are invariably influenced by, the medium’s own subconscious life.”[15] He agrees, on the whole, with Mrs. Sidgwick, and he gives examples of absurd communications. Thus, in a sitting with Mrs. Piper, in 1899, the Jewish lawgiver Moses purported to communicate, and prophesied a great war in the near future, in which Russia and France would be on one side, Britain and America on the other. Germany, according to “Moses,” would not take any serious part in the war.[16] Another time “Sir Walter Scott” announced to Dr. Hodgson that he had visited all the planets and could give information about Mars. “Asked if he had seen a planet further away than Saturn, the _soi-disant_ novelist answered, ‘Mercury.’” Julius Cæsar, Madame Guyon and George Eliot were personated, and George Eliot is reported as saying: “I hardly know as there is enough light to communicate,” and “do not know as I have ever seen a haunted house.”

Mr. J. Arthur Hill says: “I am not convinced that the regular trance-controls are spirits at all.” His views on certain aspects of the problem may be gathered from the following passage: “At Spiritualist meetings a trance-control or inspirational speaker will sometimes hold forth with surprising fluency at incredible length. The secretary of the Spiritualists’ National Union once backed the late W. J. Colville to talk ‘till this time next week without intervals for meals,’ yet with a dullness and inanity that would drive any but a very tolerant audience mad. Spiritualists certainly have the virtue of patience.”[17]

Mr. Hill thinks it probable that in many mediums there is a dissociation of consciousness, and no external spirit-agency at all. He warns Spiritualist societies against “encouraging the flow of platitudinous or almost meaningless verbiage which, whether it comes from a medium’s subliminal or from a discarnate spirit, can hardly be helpful to anybody, and must be very bad for the minds of most hearers.” He admits that in “at least some cases of trance-control there is no reason to believe the control to be other than a subliminal fraction of the automatist’s mind.”

How can the impartial inquirer hope to discern the truth amid heaps of lies? The cheating medium could be detected and cast out; the “controls” are as irresponsible as the fairies of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Sir Oliver Lodge’s views on the “controls” are of extreme interest, though he is fully committed to the defence of Spiritualism. “The _dramatic semblance_ of the control,” he says, “is undoubtedly that of a separate person--a person asserted to be permanently existing on the other side, and to be occupied on that side in much the same functions as the medium is on this.” It is true, he admits, that in the case of some mediums “there are evanescent and absurd obtrusions every now and then, which cannot be seriously regarded. These have to be eliminated, and for anyone to treat them as real people would be ludicrous.”[18] The excuse given for their appearance is that the medium may be “overdone or tired.” Sir Oliver Lodge advises “sitters,” nevertheless, to “humour” the controls by “taking them at their face value.” With the utmost respect for so great a scientist, the task of discrimination, we may safely say, lies beyond the capacity of ordinary men and women. Sir Oliver Lodge thinks that “the more responsible kind of control is a real person,” and he has much to say of “the serious controls,” but he admits the occurrence of “mischievous and temporary impersonations.”

The question may fairly be asked, Cannot the fourth personality in that strange group--composed of the inquirer on this side, the medium, the medium’s control, and the spirit communicator--speak directly from within the veil? Sir Oliver Lodge, while admitting that an exceptional more direct privilege is occasionally vouchsafed to persons in extreme sorrow, gives his answer, on the whole, in the negative. The normal process “involves the activity of several people,” and we conclude from his writings that he desires to uphold professional mediumship.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] At Denison House, Vauxhall Bridge Road, on June 11th, 1919.

[10] “Raymond,” p. 86.

[11] _ibid._, p. 357.

[12] _ibid._, p. 235.

[13] _ibid._, p. 166.

[14] “Spiritualism,” p. 74.

[15] “On the Threshold of the Unseen,” p. 33.

[16] _ibid._, p. 240.

[17] “Spiritualism,” p. 172.

[18] “Raymond,” p. 357.

_Chapter V_

TABLE PHENOMENA

Table-turning, as we meet it in literature, belongs to the older class of parlour games. Sir W. F. Barrett quotes the testimony of Delitzsch that it was practised in Jewish circles in the seventeenth century: “the table springs up even when laden with many hundred-weight.” Zebi, in 1615, defended the practice as not due to magic, but to the power of God, “for we sing to the table sacred psalms and songs, and it can be no devil’s work where God is remembered.”

I

Mrs. De Morgan, in that curious book, “From Matter to Spirit,” describes her experience in table-turning circles about the year 1853. The medium was Mrs. Hayden, whose séances in West London were attended by such men as Professor Huxley and Robert Chambers. Mrs. Hayden was an educated lady, the wife of W. R. Hayden, editor of the _Star-Spangled Banner_. Her rooms were crowded with visitors, at a minimum fee of half a guinea each, and her services were in great demand for evening parties and private sittings. According to Mrs. De Morgan, the circle gathered round an old Pembroke table. The illustrations in the book show a spirit appearing to a man and woman who are seated at a rather large round table. Very strange and absurd communications, as Mrs. De Morgan admitted, were given by table-tipping, “as, indeed, by all methods.” “I have seen instances,” she writes, “and been told of others, in which long incongruous strings of names and titles have been spelt out, such as Richard Cœur de Lion, Pythagoras, Byron, Cheops, and Mr. Fauntleroy, the list, perhaps, ending with T. Browne or J. Smith. The givers of these names seem to delight only in buffoonery and abuse; and, perhaps, after playing absurd and mischievous tricks for days or even weeks, will seem to come in a body, giving all their names, with the information that they are come to say good-bye for ever.”

Phenomena not unlike the “exuberant” table activities at Mariemont, as described in “Raymond,” were familiar over half a century ago to the sitters with Mrs. Hayden. Mrs. De Morgan tells of a case in which the watchers were directed by raps to join hands and stand up round the table without touching it. They stood patiently for a quarter of an hour, and just as one or two of the party talked of sitting down, the old table “moved entirely by itself as we surrounded and followed it with our hands joined, went towards the gentleman out of the circle, and literally pushed him up to the back of the sofa, till he called out ‘Hold, enough!’”

Robert Chambers, who was a close examiner of the table phenomena of his day, formed an opinion which would be accepted, as we shall show, by thoughtful writers of our own time who are on other grounds believers in Spiritualism.

“I am satisfied,” Robert Chambers wrote in _Chambers’s Journal_, “that the phenomena are natural, but to take them in I think we shall have to widen somewhat our ideas of the extent and character of what is natural.”

In 1853 a committee of British medical men held an investigation on table-turning. They decided that the table-motion was due to muscular action, mostly exercised unconsciously. Faraday, as Mr. Podmore shows in “Modern Spiritualism,” was able to prove that the table movements were due to muscular action, exercised in most cases without the consciousness or volition of the sitters. Table-turning, in the remoter towns and villages of Europe, was a favourite drawing-room amusement as late as 1876.

II

Sir Oliver Lodge, in his deeply interesting address to the Dublin section of the Society for Psychical Research,[19] delivered more than ten years ago, spoke wise words on the physical phenomena of the séance. “There is but little doubt in my mind,” he says, “that such movements do take place; I have had personal experience of them. Nevertheless they are not yet really established as facts, and if they were there would still be a question whether these movements are due to some independent intelligent agency, or whether, as is most likely, they are an extension of the ordinary power of the organism through which they are produced.”

Sir Oliver Lodge, eleven years ago, took practically the same view as Robert Chambers in 1853. “I can move this tumbler with my hand,” he said, “but the question remains whether I can move the same tumbler at a distance of a couple of feet from my hand without actually touching it. Note that there is nothing inconceivable about this. The boundary of an organism, as of everything else, is more or less arbitrary; we know that in a sense a vortex ring exists, not only where it is seen, but at some distance also, and that the influence of every atom extends throughout the visible universe. And so, perhaps, on analogous lines, we may look for some explanation of these curious occurrences which will not take them altogether beyond the reach of more ordinary experience.”

III

We have given the opinion of scientific men in 1853 and in 1908 with regard to the phenomena of table-turning. Spiritualists to-day are much interested in the experiments of a distinguished Belfast scientist, Dr. W. J. Crawford, with the Goligher family, whose table experiments have satisfied him that “the invisible operators” are “the spirits of human beings who have passed into the beyond.” Sir William Barrett, who has personally watched the Belfast experiments, suggests that “many of the physical manifestations witnessed in a Spiritualistic séance are the product of human-like, but not really human, intelligences. Good or bad dæmonia they may be; elementals some have called them, which aggregate round the medium--drawn from that particular plane of mental and moral development in the unseen which corresponds to the mental and moral plane of the medium.”

Sir Oliver Lodge, in a recent article,[20] speaks of “many grades of development” in the other world, “some lower than humanity.”

Mr. Arthur E. Waite, writing more than twenty years ago on Spiritualistic phenomena, set forth the theory of the Kabalists that “shells and elementals,” the “low life deeps of the world of souls,” might exercise a baneful influence on humanity. “The revelations of the unseen world which have come to us through Spiritualism,” he says, “can have come only from the dregs and lees of the unseen, or, as I should prefer to put it, from the roots and the rudiments of that house which, however, on account of those rudiments, may not be less the House of God.”

Scientific students of to-day seem divided between two theories as they examine the table phenomena. These are ascribed (1) to supernormal and little understood powers of the human personality, or (2) to the intervention of irresponsible and, it may be, sub-human intelligences.

Readers of “Raymond” will remember Sir Oliver Lodge’s reference to the difficulties of “table-sittings.” Various passages show that he himself has been greatly puzzled. Accounts of sittings at “Mariemont,” Sir Oliver Lodge’s home, tell of obstreperous doings on the part of the tables. Two got broken, and “a stronger and heavier round table with four legs was obtained, and employed only for this purpose.” In one of the séances with “Feda,” the alleged spirit of Raymond referred through the “control” to table-doings at Mariemont.

“Other spirits get in, not bad spirits, but ones that like to feel they are helping. The peculiar manifestations are not him, and it only confuses him terribly. Part of it was him, but when the table was careering about it was not him at all. He started it, but something comes along stronger than himself, and he loses the control.”[21]

In a later sitting with the same medium and control we find the sentence (supposed to come from Raymond), “The Indians have got through their hanky-panky.” The reference was understood by his brother to mean “playing with the table in a way beyond his control.”[22]

Mr. J. Arthur Hill has some sensible remarks on the general subject of table phenomena. “There seems no particular point,” he says, “in physical phenomena alone, except as providing a problem for the physicist and psychical researcher. A table or other object may move in some inexplicable way, but that is no proof of ‘spirits’; the energy is supplied from physical matter--mainly the medium’s and sitters’ bodies, apparently--and it is only through evidential messages conveyed by the phenomena that spirit agency can reasonably be inferred.” Mr. Hill disapproves of “private circles,” except when held for investigation by qualified persons.

Table phenomena, of whatever kind, afford no proof that discarnate human spirits are seeking to communicate with friends on earth.

We close this chapter with the words of Camille Flammarion, the French astronomer, whose name is so highly honoured in Spiritualistic circles:--

“The physical phenomena ... do not prove the existence of spirits, and may possibly be explained without them ... that is, by unknown forces, emanating from the experimenters, and especially from the mediums.”

FOOTNOTES:

[19] Fully reported in the Journal of the S.P.R. for December, 1908.

[20] _Weekly Dispatch_, May 18th, 1919.

[21] “Raymond,” pp. 182, 183.

[22] _ibid._, p. 273, and _see also_ pp. 276-277 for table phenomena.

_Chapter VI_

AUTOMATIC WRITING

The Society for Psychical Research has for many years given close attention to the subject of automatic writing. This has been defined as “the faculty possessed by certain people of holding a pencil over a sheet of paper and writing coherent and intelligible sentences without any conscious volition.” Sometimes the medium sits entranced with averted face, and the circle looks on while “the moving finger writes.” The script, in most cases, purports to emanate from a human being who has passed into the Unseen.

I

STAINTON MOSES

The most remarkable automatist of the Victorian period was the Rev. William Stainton Moses (“M.A., Oxon”), whose “Spirit Teachings” are still widely read, and whose character was regarded with admiration by men like F. W. H. Myers and Sir W. F. Barrett. Mr. Moses, who was a clergyman of the Church of England, and a master at University College School, revealed to a curious world the existence of a group of “spirits,” who concealed their identity, for the most part, under such pseudonyms as “Imperator,” “Rector,” “Mentor,” and “Doctor.” It has often been pointed out that the messages of “Imperator,” who was a spirit of a highly didactic and clerical turn of mind, were very much what the curate William Stainton Moses might have written of his own volition. Their main purpose appears to have been the inculcation of Broad Church theology.

Mr. Podmore considered that Stainton Moses was “perhaps the most remarkable private medium of the last generation,” but of his trance utterances this critic said: “They contain no evidence of supernormal faculty.”

Mr. Arthur E. Waite, in a passage on automatic script, refers to “that dark border-line of mystery where deception and self-deception meet and join hands.”

“It is, indeed, open to question,” he says, “whether under some aspects ‘the spirit teachings,’ for example, obtained through the mediumship of the Rev. Stainton Moses are not, on the whole, more hopeless than the quality of the trance address delivered in a back street on a Saturday night before a circle of mechanics, for the simple reason that from the normal gifts of the medium we had fair reason to look for better.”

The revelations conveyed through “Spirit Teachings” suggest to this experienced occultist that “if the dead have spoken at any time since the beginning of the Rochester knockings they have said nothing to arrest our attention or to warrant a continued communication.” Mr. Podmore, in “Modern Spiritualism,” mentions that “Imperator” and his associates were supposed to represent personages of some importance on earth. Their real names were revealed by Stainton Moses to one or two friends. After the migration of these “controls” to Mrs. Piper, “they more than once professed, as a proof of identity, to give their names, but their guesses have been incorrect.”

Mr. Podmore thought that the clue to the enigma of Stainton Moses’ life “must be sought in the annals of morbid psychology.” In justice to the medium it should be added that, while working as a curate in the Isle of Man, he showed remarkable courage and zeal during an outbreak of smallpox, helping to nurse sick and bury the dead. In the various positions he held as parish clergyman and schoolmaster he was liked and respected by all. The physical phenomena of his mediumship were always said to be secondary; his own wish was to emphasise the religious teaching he promulgated through automatic writing.

Spiritualists of to-day reject entirely the notion that the phenomena associated with Stainton Moses were produced by fraud, but as Mr. Hill says, “Whether they were due to spirits is another question, not to be finally settled until we know the extent of our subliminal self’s hidden powers.”

II

If doubts are felt by Spiritualists themselves with regard to the origin of such a standard work as “Spirit Teachings,” can we wonder that all but the most credulous reject great masses of ordinary automatic writing and concentrate their attention on a possibly valuable “residuum”? As Sir William Barrett recognises, the automatist, even when absolutely above suspicion, may unconsciously guide the pencil or the indicator of the “ouija board.” May not the explanation of surprising communications, when such occur, be found in “thought-transference from those who are sitting with the medium, or telepathy from other living persons who may know some of the facts that are automatically written?”[23]

Sir William Barrett asks the question, though he does not consider that an affirmative answer covers the facts. Honest-minded Spiritualists are groping after a natural explanation of the phenomena. The best of them, we are sure, would agree with Dr. Barnes that automatic writing, taken as a whole, has no evidential value in favour of the theory that it is possible to communicate with the dead. As the “table phenomena” point to dimly realised extensions of man’s physical powers, so the unexplained facts of automatic writing find their probable explanation in thought-transference, or in that mysterious realm where experts talk of “the dissociation of the personality.”

Mr. Gerald Balfour, whose writings on Psychical Research deserve the closest and most attentive study, discussed in the _Hibbert Journal_ ten years ago the problem of dissociation, “whereby an element of the normal self may be supposed to become in a lesser or greater degree divided off from that self, and to acquire, for the time being, a certain measure of independence.”

“It would appear to be with this secondary self (or selves, if there be more than one of them) that we have to reckon in dealing with the facts of automatism rather than with the normal self: a deduction drawn from the consciousness or unconsciousness of the latter may be altogether inapplicable to the former. How ready these second selves are to act a part, and how cleverly they often do so, the experience of hypnotism is there to show.”

III

“Nearly every woman,” writes Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in “The New Revelation,” “is an undeveloped medium. Let her try her own powers of automatic writing.” Doctors have cried out against this dangerous advice given by one of the medical fraternity, and we have not found it supported by any leading authority in the ranks of Spiritualism. We are able to state, on excellent authority, that the late Dr. Alfred Russel Wallace strongly deprecated any similar attempts by amateurs. In private conversation he used to tell of a man who, having practised automatic writing, became absolutely incapable of writing the simplest note without his hand being used by other agencies. He was not able to hinder this by his own will, and in order to effect a cure he was obliged to abstain for years from using a pencil at all. Dr. Russel Wallace had a strong belief in the existence and activity of malignant low-grade spirits who seek to gain control over men.

Sir William Barrett, in a very grave passage, discourages “young persons and those who have little to interest their time and thoughts” from “making any experiments in this perplexing region.” Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has never known “a blasphemous, an unkind, or an obscene message” to be transmitted ostensibly from the other side. Sir W. F. Barrett has been less fortunate in his experience. “It not infrequently happens,” writes this great authority, “as some friends of mine found, that after some interesting and veridical messages and answers to questions had been given, mischievous and deceptive communications took place, interspersed with profane and occasionally obscene language. How far the sitters’ subliminal self is responsible for this, it is difficult to say; they were naturally disquieted and alarmed, as the ideas and words were wholly foreign to their thoughts, and they threw up the whole matter in disgust.”[24]

Sir Oliver Lodge, in “Raymond” (p. 225), warns his readers against the misapplication of psychic power. His paragraph headed “Warning” gleams like a sea-light over sunken rocks. It was with a deep sense of responsibility, we may be sure, and with a consciousness of surrounding danger, that the world-famed scientist wrote these words: “Self-control is more important than any other form of control, and whoever possesses the power of receiving communications in any form should see to it that he remains master of the situation. To give up your own judgment and depend solely on adventitious aid is a grave blunder, and may in the long run have disastrous consequences. Moderation and common sense are required in those who try to utilise powers which neither they nor any fully understand, and a dominating occupation in mundane affairs is a wholesome safeguard.”