In the second place, these fluidic hands are almost identical in many ways with those presented by Eusapia Palladino at her best. The materialized hands, of varying degrees of density and formation, attached to long, shadowy arms, are exactly like the hands so often materialized at her seances—hands which are at times small, and at other times enormous. They no more resembled the hands of the medium than chalk resembles cheese.

16. This brings me to a final reflection, which I should like to mention before leaving this branch of our discussion. It concerns the question of darkness and its effect upon genuine mediumistic phenomena. Whether this effect be primarily physical, physiological, or psychological, the fact remains that it exists; and the researches of Dr. Ochorowicz have tended to confirm this very strongly. His work has shown us (or rather confirmed us more strongly in the belief) that the question of light is a highly important one, and that the greater the degree of darkness, ceteris paribus, the better and the more startling the phenomena.

Now, there has always existed a sort of a priori assumption that this should be so. Light, as we know, does bring about chemical reactions, and even exerts a definite physical force or pressure. Even so gross and so powerful a form of physical energy as wireless telegraphy is greatly interfered with by reason of the sun's rays (ultra-violet rays), and, of course, photographic plates are at once rendered useless by an instant's exposure to the sun. Again, it is known that sunlight has a more or less destructive influence upon all forms of animal and vegetable protoplasm, and it is very soon fatal to many of the lower forms of life. This being so, it has always appeared to me perfectly reasonable to suppose that the energy of the light-rays should interfere most seriously with the delicate and subtle forces and forms of energy which are liberated in the seance room. The old objection: "Why must these things always be done in the dark?" has appeared to me very short-sighted and inconsistent with all the facts above mentioned.

But, further! It is highly probable that life of any kind can only originate in the dark. Certainly, conception invariably takes place in complete darkness, and the whole period of embryonic development is passed in that condition. Again, inter-stellar space is, of course, absolutely black and devoid of any form of light save the faint twinklings of the far-off stars. Without the surface of some globe to reflect the sun's rays, no light of any kind would be possible; so that if life were conveyed across space, from star to star, upon infinitesimal specks of dust, under the influence of light pressure, as postulated by Arrhenius (Worlds in the Making, pp. 212-30), this life must exist, and in a sense originate, in the blackness of inter-stellar space.[10] And, finally, if life on our globe originated, as many think, in the ocean's depths,[11] this must have been in the densest darkness, since light penetrates but a few fathoms below the surface of the ocean. Below that all is blackness, complete and eternal. No light penetrates to that depth—nor has it for millions of years! Yet it is in this region that life is thought to have originated! As G. W. Warder expressed it (The Universe a Vast Electric Organism, pp. 60-1):

"During this period of primeval 'darkness upon the face of the waters' the resistless electric waves of the sun were beating upon the cloud-enwrapped surface of the planet. It was the formative period of elementary life, and the descendants and successors of that mighty host of living beings have to this day to lay the foundations of their being in similar conditions of darkness. Creative energy in its first stages of living form operates in dense darkness, and the first life upon the planet began and perfected itself in the age when midnight gloom enveloped the globe."

This fact—that life originated in darkness, and that the power of life can only be exercised in darkness—is, it seems to me, a most significant one when viewed in the light of our studies, and seems to point to the conclusion that the "darkness" said to be essential at spiritistic circles is indeed necessary; and that, when delicate and subtle forms of life and energy are being manifested, they are likely to become disrupted by the sudden introjection of a coarse and powerful form of energy, such as light, so that this "condition," said to be necessary by all mediums, is probably in reality essential; and their claim, far from being absurd, is well founded, and in accordance with well-established scientific facts.

17. So far as to the physical phenomena. We must now turn to the mental manifestations, and discuss one or two points in connection with them before concluding.

Hitherto we have considered the process of communication (granting such to exist) solely from the physical and physiological sides, and not from the psychological. There is a great deal to be said in this latter connection, however, though I shall endeavour to be as brief as possible.

Take, for instance, the question of symbolism.

Our dreams, as we know, are largely symbolic, the work of Freud and others having proved this beyond all doubt. It is highly probable that the ravings of delirium are also of this nature, though no one, so far as I know, has yet devoted any serious attention to their study. Certainly it is true in mediumistic phenomena; for, in trance conditions, a larger number of messages, tests, and visions seen are of this nature and character—the symbolism often being so elaborate that the original thought is not perceived. As Mr. Coates remarked: "When a 'psychometer' places a geological specimen to his forehead, and describes an 'antediluvian monster,' roaring and walking about, no one but a very shallow individual would imagine for a moment that the psychometer was actually seeing the original," but rather that he obtained a faint and dream-like impression of the world at that epoch, and his subconscious impression was symbolized in the creature seen. A better example is, perhaps, furnished by the following: a gentleman of my acquaintance visited a certain trance-medium, and, among other things, she described a large key. This meant nothing to him at first; but later, and after some apparent effort, the medium succeeded in catching (and conveying) the idea that the key was symbolic of success—unlocking the door of happiness, etc.—whereupon all she had said fell naturally into place.

Why this symbolism? The probable answer to this question is that the "message" cannot be given directly, and that this symbolic method of presentation must be resorted to in order to get the message through at all. There is good evidence to show that a pictorial method is resorted to, very largely, by the soi-disant spirits—mediums seeing what they describe, very often, when the more direct auditory method is not resorted to. The "spirit" presents somehow to the mind of the medium a picture, which is described and often interpreted by the medium. Often this interpretation is quite erroneous—resembling a defective analysis of a dream. Because of this the message is not recognized. Yet the source of the message may have been perfectly "veridical."

Let me illustrate this a little more fully. Suppose you desired to tell a Chinaman, who spoke not a word of English, to fetch a certain object from the next room. It would be useless for you to say "watch," because he would not know what the word meant. Probably you would tap your waistcoat pocket, pretend to take out a watch, wind it, look at the hands, etc., in your endeavour to convey to him your meaning. If this was not recognized, for any reason, you would have the utmost difficulty in conveying your meaning to him—and equal difficulty in telling him to fetch the watch from the next room.

Now, suppose these antics—or somewhat similar ones—were resorted to by a "spirit" in his attempt to convey the word watch—perhaps to remind the sitter of a particular watch he used to wear. The medium might well proceed as follows: "He taps his stomach, and looks at a spot over his left side.... He seems to wish to convey the impression that he suffered much from his bowels—perhaps a cancer on the left side. Yes, he seems to be taking something away from his body; evidently they removed some growth, and he wishes to convey the idea that something was taken from him.... Now he is examining his hands; he is looking intently. He is doing something with his fingers.... I can't see what it is ... a little movement. Was he connected with machinery in life? Now he is pointing to the door ..." etc.

Such an interpretation of the facts, it will be observed, while describing all his actions, is wholly misleading in interpretation; the symbolism has been entirely perverted and misconstrued. And inasmuch as the subject probably never died of cancer, had no bowel trouble, underwent no operation, and was never connected with machinery, it is highly probable that the "message" would be put down wholly to the medium's subliminal, or even to guessing or conscious fraud. Yet, it will be observed, the message was, in its inception, wholly "veridical"—the fault lying in the erroneous symbolic interpretation of the medium.

There is evidence to show that other forms of symbolism are adopted also—applying to the auditory as well as to the visual presentation of the messages. Names afford some of the best evidence for this; e.g. in the sitting of Mrs. Verrall with Mrs. Thompson, November 2, 1899 (Proceedings, xvii. pp. 240-41), "Nelly," the control, gave the names "Merrifield, Merriman, Merrythought, Merrifield," and later went on: "I am muddled. I will tell you how names come to us. It's like a picture; I see school-children enjoying themselves; you can't say Merrimans, because that's not a name, nor merry people...." (Mrs. Verrall's maiden name was Merrifield.) If I remember correctly, there was similar symbolism with regard to the name Greenfield at another sitting.

18. Here, then, we see the full play of symbolism and its possible extension to cover proper names. But there is another and a very simple reason why names should be hard to recall and give clearly by "spirits." Names are proverbially hard to remember, even in this life—and we know that some persons naturally remember names far better than others. (This may account, to a certain extent, for the differences in the ability of communicators to give proper names.) But, with all of us, names are hard to recall. We all resort to "what's-his-names," and "thing-o'-my-jigs," on occasion, in our efforts to discover within us the name in question. And there are good physiological reasons for this. We learn names only after many other parts of speech—which means that the brain-cells corresponding thereto are laid down or brought into conscious activity last; they are therefore more ephemeral and less fundamental than others—hence the first to "go." This accounts for the increasing difficulty in the aged for remembering names—theirs is a physiological rather than a psychological defect. By analogy, therefore, there is every reason to believe that proper names are hard to recall—every reason for thinking that they should be—by "spirits" after the shock and wrench of death. The necessary psychical mechanism would be so shaken and disturbed that it would be impossible to recall names and events, which seem quite straightforward and simple to the sitter. The possibly pictorial method of presentation of proper names would greatly add to the difficulty, as we have seen, and would be liable to lead to misrepresentation and error.

19. Dr. Hyslop, in his second report on Mrs. Piper, (Proceedings, Amer. S.P.R., pp. 1-812), calls attention to certain analogies which may be drawn from everyday psychology, rendering the process of communication far more intelligible, and the difficulties within the process far clearer to our perception and appreciation. For example, he calls attention to certain analogies with aphasia, which are most instructive. He says, in part:

"The two traditional types of aphasia are motor and sensory. Sensory aphasia is the inability to interpret the meaning of a sensation ... motor aphasia is the inability to speak a word or language, though the ideas and meaning of sensations may be as clear as in normal life.... This latter difficulty is apparent in several types of phenomena purporting to be associated with communications from spirits. I have found them illustrated in four different cases of mediumship, and they may be represented in three types. They are: (a) The difficulties with proper names; (b) The difficulties with unfamiliar words; and (c) The inability to immediately answer a pertinent question....

"The analogies with aphasia, of which we are speaking, may comprise various conditions affecting both medium and communicator. Thus the abnormal physical and mental conditions involved in the trance may affect the integrity of the normal motor action. Then the new situation in which death places a communicator, in relation to any nervous system, may establish conditions very much like aphasia. Then there may be difficulties in the communicator's representing his thoughts in the form necessary to transmit them to and through a foreign organism."

Dr. Hyslop then offers the following diagram as a possible solution of certain difficulties involved:



A B C represents the normal consciousness; A B D the subliminal consciousness. They intersect at E, which point represents the "equilibrium of the controls." "The area A E B shows the condition in which all sorts of confusion may occur, incidental to the infusion of controls, and this confusion will vary with the relation with the supraliminal and subliminal action of the mind." As one advances, the other recedes. As one gains a greater control over the organism, the other loses it, and vice versa.



Extending this conception to cover the cases of spirit "possession," in which this varying and fluctuating control is also manifested, we might represent this by the above diagram, in which normal consciousness is left out of account, for the sake of clearness, and the trance condition (subliminal) only represented. The spirit control of the organism takes its place in the diagram.

Here A B C represents the trance state—the subliminal consciousness. G D F represents the sphere of the spirit's control. It does not begin at all until the point F be reached. The space A E F represents the area in which all kinds of confusion is possible, and it is within this area that most of the mediumistic messages come. E is the "point of balance." A F H represents the amount of subliminal action accessible to the control, on the one hand, and related to the discarnate, on the other, in its rapport. A F represents the amount of the discarnate personality which is accessible to communication, so we have two fields which are wholly inaccessible to each other, and are respectively represented by B C H F and D G I A, the former a portion of the subliminal personality of the living and the latter a portion of the discarnate personality which cannot reveal itself.

This intermediate area, in which the control is liable to vary, and be thrown on to one side or the other, also has an analogy in the hypnoidal state of Boris Sidis—this being an intermediate state (so it is thought) which is convertible either into ordinary sleep, on the one hand, or into hypnotic sleep on the other. It all depends upon how this state is handled and controlled. It may be the same here; the medium may sink into internal reverie, or introspective trance; or she may be converted into a genuine "medium" by some influence exerted upon her from without.

20. On this theory, the deeper the trance the greater the control by the "spirit," and this corresponds very well with what has been said before. There are always a number of obstacles to clear communication, and the degree to which these are overcome would represent the degree of clearness of the communications. The process of transferring a mental picture to the medium may be attended with all kinds of difficulties of which we know nothing. Assuming, for the sake of argument, that there is a sort of etheric body, or double, and that this is in any way involved in the process, we might have the following "difficulties" to encounter: The difficulty in picturing the event clearly in the communicator's mind; difficulty in transferring it to the light; difficulty in getting this transferred to the medium's physical body; the difficulty of manipulating the latter. We know that we often have great difficulty in manipulating our own bodies properly; and, in paralysis and kindred affections, we are unable to do so at all. Yet we are thoroughly familiar with our own bodies, and know how they work. How much more difficult would it be if we were suddenly transplanted in another person's body, and had to manipulate that? We should have to "learn the ropes," so to say; and all the little automatic tricks, and habits, and slips of speech, and what not, would be liable to slip out without our consent and before we knew it. We should "inherit," in fact, its whole psychological and physiological "setting." This being the case, we may readily see how difficult it would be for a discarnate spirit to manipulate another organism; and how likely it would be to allow certain tricks and habits of the medium herself to slip through, without being able to control them. As one communicator said, through Mrs. Chenoweth: "I do not like those 'don'ts'; they are hers, not mine." Here is a clear recognition of the difficulty involved in controlling the organism, and this is greatly accentuated when we remember that all such communications must be given when the soi-disant communicator is in a constrained mental attitude—"gripping the light," "hanging on to the medium's body," while giving the communications. There is a double strain involved; and, as Dr. Hyslop said: "With what facility could I superintend the work of helping a drowning person and talk philosophy at the same time? How well could I hold a plough in stony ground and discuss protection and free-trade?" It is small wonder that the messages should be fragmentary and incomplete, were any such difficulties as these experienced!

The three chief difficulties involved in mediumistic messages may be summed-up under three headings: (1) intra-mediumistic conditions; (2) intra-cosmic conditions; and (3) the mental conditions of the communicators.

Under the first head may be placed all those difficulties which are liable to interfere between the communicator and the amanuensis. If the communicator is naturally a good visualizer this may help his visual communications, but impede the others; an audile might be better in some instances. Again, the impulse may come in some motor form, in which case neither of these types would be that best suited to control the organism of the medium. Whether the communicator is a good visualizer or not may affect the communications to a great extent. Whether or not he had a normally good memory would also have a great influence. In fact, the whole construction of the mind might have great influence upon the results. This is a subject which deserves to be studied very carefully one day, when the mere fact of communication is established.

As is well known, both Drs. Hodgson and Hyslop wrote strongly in defence of the theory that the communicator, at the time of communicating, was in an abnormal mental condition, somewhat resembling trance or delirium or secondary personality. They were, at least, not in full control of their thoughts; and this was said to be established by the statements of the communicators themselves; and by a study of the messages communicated, wherein it was found that they became dreamy and vague; that they showed the same rapid change of imagery and subject which is manifested in dreams; an automatic tendency to capricious and confused association, a general indifference to personality, etc., as manifested in delirium. In dreams and sleep we have practically no control over the body at all, any more than if we were dead; and Dr. Hyslop contended that probably "somnambulism and hypnosis, dreaming, sleep, trance conditions, and death are all simply different degrees of the same state." Dr. Hyslop during his later years modified his views upon this question, and came to the conclusion that other conditions play a greater share in the results than the state of the communicator's mind. But there can be no doubt that this has its results.

Then, too, the medium's subliminal has a great and very decided influence upon the content of the messages. This was very small before Dr. Hodgson's death, but increased very much after that time. In a letter to me, dated January 27, 1908, Mrs. Ledyard, an old Piper sitter, said:

"Dear Mr. Carrington,—... All sorts of false statements don't necessarily tell against the spiritistic hypothesis. If you get other evidences of personality, the false statements only confirm R. H.'s belief that "they" are in a sort of dreamy, half-trance state and very suggestible. My own opinion of the Piper trance is that, since R. H.'s death, when Mrs. P. has been less carefully guarded in many ways, and allowed to have so much voice in what she would and would not do, that there is much more effect of Mrs. Piper herself on the trance—and more leaks through from Mrs. Piper—though I have, so far, seen no special evidence that it leaks the other way, and that what is told her by sitters during the trance gets into the normal consciousness. But it does affect her normal life, just as an hypnotic suggestion does, on which the subject acts quite unconscious of its source...."

But Rector's[12] business seems to be more far-reaching and more complicated than this. I quote from Dr. Hyslop's second Piper report (p. 197) the following interesting passage:

"I may notice a remark Dr. Hodgson once made to me regarding the office of Rector in the phenomena of Mrs. Piper. It was not only as control that he exercised an influence over the results, but also both as intermediary between the communicator and the sitter, and as an inhibitor of the influence of the sitter's mind and the subconsciousness of Mrs. Piper upon this same result.... His view was that Rector inhibited the thought-transference from the sitter to Mrs. Piper's subliminal, on the messages, so far as that was possible...."

From this it will, at all events, be seen that the relationship, and the whole system of inhibitions and influences at work in the Piper case is very complicated. It must be remembered that, on any theory, the "messages" must come through the medium's subliminal, which acts as a sort of matrix in which the whole mould of the supernormal is cast; and, this being the case, it is only natural to suppose that the results would be most complicated and inextricably mixed in their relationships and influences. If spirit communications influence the subconscious, we have a right to suppose that the subliminal influences the communications in turn. And this is apparently proved by the facts.

21. Now a few words as to the psychological processes of communicating, and the interplay of minds one with another, which figure in this process. Writing of this, Dr. Hyslop says:

"Psychology distinguishes between what it calls visuals, audiles, and motiles. A visual is one in which visual experiences receive such emphasis, and which prove to be of such predominant interest to the subject that his habit of thinking about objects is expressed mentally or mnemonically in visual terms—that is, in the memory pictures of vision.... An audile is one in whom the sense of hearing is predominant. [In motiles the impulse is towards motor action.]

"Suppose the psychic is a visual and the communicator an audile, might not that difference make a marked difficulty in the adjustment necessary for communicating clearly?... A visual might see apparitions more easily, and have more difficulty in automatic writing; and an audile might easily hear voices and write with more difficulty, etc.... A proper name is purely an auditory concept. It has no visual equivalent whatever, except the letters which form it. If, then, the process of communication at any time involves a dominant dependence on visual functions of the mind, the sudden attempt to interpose an auditory datum might meet with the difficulty of prompt adjustment to auditory conditions for its transmission, and it might even be that the psychic could not, from habit in visual methods, adjust herself to all the needs of a proper name, except by converting it readily into visual terms, as the spelling of the name would express....

"In the lighter trance it is clear that visual phenomena play a most important part in the communications. With Mrs. Piper the phenomena seem to be more auditory. Mrs. Piper never sees apparitions or phantasms in her normal state; none have been reported of her as systematic experiences, as I have observed them in Mrs. Chenoweth....

"What we gain in clearness of consciousness in the communications when the message comes through the active subliminal of the medium, we lose in the accuracy and specific value of the message, while what we gain in the specific definiteness of the messages through Mrs. Piper, where the subliminal, if intermediary at all, is passive and automatic, we lose in the dream-like and disturbed mental state of the communicator."

22. Another difficulty must be referred to in this place; and that is the probable loss of control over the stream of thought by spirits, such as we exercise in this life. Here, the checks and inhibitions are easily accomplished, unless disease in some manner prevents them; but there are strong indications that a "spirit"—at least when communicating—cannot control his stream of thinking to the same extent; and that, if it is constantly interrupted—by questions, etc., as it usually is—it tends to break up and become automatic, echolalic, or useless. That even experienced and careful psychic researchers will interfere with the flow of consciousness in this manner I know to be a fact; I myself, though I had been especially warned against doing so, did the same thing in my Piper sittings! Some of these difficulties I endeavoured to make clear in a letter, which I wrote to the English Journal S.P.R., and which appeared in March, 1908. In it I said:

"For the sake of argument, let us assume that the intelligences that communicate through the organism of Mrs. Piper—and perhaps of some other mediums—are spirits of the departed, and that they temporarily 'possess' the organism of the medium (at least in part) during the process of communicating. That is the generally-held theory, I believe, and the simplest one to account for the facts. If this be true, it is to be supposed that the normal consciousness of the medium is in some manner removed, superseded, or withdrawn, and that only some "vegetable consciousness" remains, as it were, sufficient to keep the organism going until the return of the normal consciousness and normal control by the medium. Meanwhile, the controlling intelligence is, by supposition, influencing the nervous mechanism of the medium's body—directly or indirectly through some etheric medium—and influencing it to write out letters and words by the usual slow and laborious process. That they do find it slow and laborious is evidenced by the fact that all possible abbreviations are adopted—'U.D.' being used for 'Understand'; 'M' is frequently written 'N,' and so on. Even in our normal life we know that thoughts frequently flow faster than we can put them on to paper, and this would almost certainly be the case with spiritual intelligences who have no material brain to hinder their flow of thought. It is probable that the brain is as much an inhibitory organ as anything else; and when this inhibition is removed, it is natural to suppose that the flow of thought would be far less controllable and far more automatic than it is with us. It would be impossible for spirits to check and go on with their stream of thought at will, as we do on this hypothesis; they would be far more automatic and less under the control of the will. If this were true, it would account for much of the confusion present in the communications. Suppose a spirit is trying to communicate some fact or incident in its past life. It is endeavouring to force this thought through, in the face of great difficulties, and while trying to retain its grasp of the organism. Now, let us suppose that this stream of thought is suddenly interrupted by the sitter asking an abrupt question—referring to another incident altogether, and perhaps related to another time in the communicator's life. Is it not natural to suppose that, labouring under these difficulties, and lacking the inhibitory action of the brain, the communicator's mind should wander, and that he should either think aloud to himself as it were (all this coming through as confused writing, be it understood), or that the spirit should lose its grasp of the organism altogether and drift away? The mind cannot retain two vivid pictures at the same time; either one or the other must grow fogged and dim; and this would certainly be so in the case of any communicator, where we may suppose a certain amount of mental energy—corresponding to a mental picture perhaps—is necessitated in the very process of holding the control of the organism. If communications take place at all in reality, we may well suppose that the difficulties of communicating would be so great that all clear, systematic thinking would be impossible. People seem to imagine that the process of communication is as simple as possible, instead of the most delicate and complicated imaginable—the very difficulty being evinced by the rarity of the intelligible communications coming through. If any one were to try the simple subjective test of closing the eyes and attempting to conceive his spirit controlling some other person's organism, he would very easily perceive the tremendous difficulties in the way of controlling an organism other than his own!

"However, my object in writing this letter is not to point out difficulties of this character, which are probably well understood by the majority of the readers of the Journal. It is to draw attention to another fact, and an analogy. Let us take a man in good health, whose brain and mental functions are normal. Let this man be all but killed in a railroad accident. In the jar and shock of the collision this man was thrown (let us say) against an iron post, and his head badly cut and bruised. He was knocked insensible, and it was several hours before he returned to the first dim consciousness of his surroundings. Gradually he would revive. Objects would present themselves to his eyesight vaguely, indistinctly; he would "see men as trees walking." Sounds would be heard, but indistinctly; there would be a vague jumble of noises, and no definite and articulate sounds would be recognized at first, and until consciousness was more fully restored. Tactile sensations, smell and touch, would probably come last, and be least powerful of all; they would not be even distinguishable until consciousness was almost completely normal. All intellectual interests would be abolished, only the most loving and tender thoughts would be entertained or tolerable, and these would be swallowed up, very largely, in the great, central fact that the body and head were in great pain; that the memory was impaired, and that anything like normal thinking and a normal grasp of the organism was impossible. Thoughts would be scattered, incoherent, and only the strongest stimuli would focus the attention on any definite object for longer than a few moments at a time, and perhaps even these would fail. But if oxygen gas were administered to such a person, in moderate doses, he would recover and rally far more quickly and effectually than if no such stimulant were employed. He would rally more quickly, and be enabled to think more clearly and consistently—at least pro tem. In shocks to the living consciousness this would almost certainly be the case.

"Now, when we come to die, the departure of the soul from the body must be a great strain and stress upon the surviving consciousness, and must shock it tremendously—just as the accident shocked it in the case given above. Certainly this would be so in the case of all sudden deaths, and in those cases which 'die hard'; and it is natural to suppose that it would be true also, more or less, in every case of death, however natural—since the separation of consciousness from its brain must be the greatest shock that any given consciousness could receive in the course of its natural existence. But after a time the spirit is supposed to outlive and 'get over' this initial shock, and to regain its normal functions and faculties. In its normal life, it is then supposed to be once more free and unhampered by any of the bodily conditions that rendered its manifestations on earth defective. But when this consciousness comes once more to communicate, it seems to again take on the conditions of earth life, i.e. those conditions which were present when the person died, and this would account for the fact, often observed, that mediums 'take on' the conditions of certain spirits who are communicating, i.e. they suffer pro tem. from heart or bowel trouble, pains in the head, etc. Further, this seems to extend to the mental functions and conditions also. Idiocy and insanity, e.g., are supposed to gradually wear off in the next life, and a gradual return to normal conditions ensue. This is, at least, the statement made through several mediums, and it is only natural to suppose that such should be the case. The spirit gradually returns to a normal mental condition; but when any attempt is made to return to the 'earth plane,' and especially to communicate, these conditions return with greater or lesser force—varying with and depending upon the length of time such a person had been dead, and other considerations. On any theory, the consciousness must undergo some sort of temporary disintegration, while communicating, and must be scattered over a wide field of recollection, while at the same time attempting to 'hold on' to the organism. It must also be remembered that the flow of thought is far more automatic than with us. All this being so, we can readily understand that any attempt at communication would be attended with the greatest difficulties, and such a consciousness, if it were constantly interrupted by questions, etc., would tend to go to pieces—to lose its grasp of the organism, and to drift away—only confusion and error coming through. This consciousness might be strengthened and rendered clearer, perhaps, by the presentation of some object belonging to the person when alive—as, no matter how explained, this seems to clear the communications. Any means that can be adopted to render clearer the mind of the communicator, on the one hand, or improve the condition of the nervous mechanism of the medium on the other, should therefore be of great utility and should at least be tried. This being so, I now come to the heart of the matter, and offer a suggestion which, if followed out, might improve the physical body of the medium, and hence render the conditions better from this side—as the presentation of objects might be supposed to render the conditions better from the other side.

"I have pointed out before that, in certain cases, when it is desirable to restore the consciousness and to render its renewal more certain and clear (after an accident, e.g., that has knocked a person senseless) a mixture of oxygen gas is sometimes administered to the patient in order to produce these results. This being so, I ask: why may it not be a good idea to administer a diluted mixture of this gas to the medium when she is in a trance state—and when a communicator is attempting to convey his thought to the sitter by means of automatic writing? Might not such an experiment be tried, since no harm could come to the medium if the oxygen were diluted and only sufficiently strong to effect the desired results? And might not its administration tend to improve the tone of the nervous system pro tem., and render clearer the consciousness that is trying to use it and manifest through it—just as one's own consciousness might be rendered clearer by the same device? Of course such a process might have the effect (especially at first) of breaking the trance altogether, and of reviving the medium. But if the medium understood the experiment beforehand, and the process were also explained to the controls, it is reasonable to suppose that—after some trials at any rate—the trance would not be broken, and that better, clearer results would follow. At all events, when some of our physicians in America are experimenting upon the effects of various electrical rays upon mediums in a trance, might not this far simpler and better-understood method be tried with more or less impunity? I at least suggest that it be so tried."

23. It must not be thought that this "possession" theory of the Piper and similar cases is the only one which has been held in the past. On the contrary, as we know, there have been several others—Mrs. Sidgwick's telepathic theory—from the discarnate; Mr. Andrew Lang's theory of telepathy a trois; Mr. Podmore's theory of simple telepathy; the theory held by Andrew Jackson Davis and other clairvoyants, that there exists a sort of mirror-like sphere, upon which all thoughts and acts are recorded, and which the medium is somehow enabled to "read" during the trance state; the theory that discarnate spirits somehow project their thoughts upon a wax-like surface of astral substance, and that the medium is enabled to reinterpret them in some mysterious manner; the Theosophical theory; the theory of the occultists and mystics; the Catholic theory—that these manifestations are all the result of evil, lying spirits—these are but a few of the hypotheses which have been advanced in the past by way of explanation of these phenomena. I may say that this latter theory has some respectable evidence in its support, by the way, a few very remarkable cases having come under my own observation, which I hope to detail at some future time; and Dr. J. Godfrey Raupert has cited some impressive cases in his Dangers of Spiritualism, Modern Spiritism, and The Supreme Problem. This is assuredly a side of psychic investigation which demands close study and prolonged investigation; and, in spite of the masterly analysis of some of these cases by Professor Flournoy in his Spiritism and Psychology (chap. iii.), I cannot but feel that there is yet much to be learned as to the nature of the intelligence manifested in these cases. And this was, as we know, the opinion also of Professor William James, for he wrote (Proceedings of S.P.R., vol. xxiii. p. 118): "The refusal of modern 'enlightenment' to treat 'possession' as a hypothesis to be spoken of as even possible, in spite of the massive human tradition based on concrete experience in its favour, has always seemed to me a curious example of the power of fashion in things scientific. That the demon theory (not necessarily a devil theory) will have its innings again is to my mind absolutely certain.... One must be blind and ignorant indeed to suspect no such possibility...." It must by no means be taken for granted, therefore, that the intelligences operating through Mrs. Piper and other mediums are all that they claim to be, even if their externality to the medium were proved.... We must be extremely cautious in accepting any messages coming through mediums until the most certain and convincing proofs of identity be forthcoming—and then we should be cautious!

The only plausible theory which in any way accounts for the Piper and similar phenomena—short of the spiritistic—is one based upon the existence of independently fluctuating strata of the medium's mind, acquiring their knowledge by means of telepathy, clairvoyance, and other supernormal means. This view of the case is held and defended with extreme ingenuity and persuasiveness by Professor Flournoy in his Spiritism and Psychology—a book which I myself think should be read by every one interested in psychics or inclined to "dabble in spiritualism." The complete isolation and individuality of the various personalities involved could only be explained, it seems to me, by postulating a series of subliminal strata, between which there would be no memory connection—very much like Mr. Gurney's strata obtained by him and described in his paper on "The Stages of Hypnotic Memory" (Proceedings, vol. iv. pp. 515-31). In this way alone could we account for the facts; but even so, are they explained?

When psychical research becomes a recognized science there will be ample room for "specialization," and for many years of study in each branch of the work. Consider, for instance, the many ramifications and possibilities which would be thrown open to the researcher! A man might become a "specialist" in haunted houses, in the investigation of such cases, and in their "treatment" and "cure." He would then have to investigate the nature and character of the phenomena which occur in them, and of the intelligences which manifest themselves. The nature of the figures seen in such houses would form a special branch of research, and the degree of their objectivity or subjectivity in any particular case. Numerous experiments might be tried, such as crystal-gazing, automatic writing, seances, induced dreams, etc. Experiments should be tried in photographing the apparitions, and in getting them to register their presence upon delicate and sensitive instruments of all sorts. Phonographic records of the "footsteps" of the ghost (if such occur) should be made, and a record taken of all the sounds and noises which occur in the house. Clairvoyants should be sent on "trips" to ascertain the character of the haunting, if possible, in order to "check off" their descriptions against the experiences of those living in the house. Communication should be established with the "haunting spirits," if possible, by means of raps, table-tipping, etc. The character of the phenomena should be studied, and the physical separated from the mental. The nature of the intelligence "haunting" the house should be investigated psychologically. The dreams of those who sleep in the house should be recorded and analysed. Animals should be taken to live in the house, to see whether or not they perceive anything unusual. The effect of suggestion, exorcism, etc., should be tried and noted. Experiments in hypnotism, "magnetism," etc., should be conducted in the house. Red lights and lights of other colours should be tried, to see whether they affect the phenomena in any manner. These are but a few of the many tests and experiments that might be made, and which would doubtless suggest themselves to the mind of the investigator as soon as the legitimacy of the subject were once granted.

Again, in the case of telepathy. Once the facts were proved, the fascinating study of the laws and causes would begin. Under what mental, physical, and, possibly, spiritual conditions does telepathy operate? What is the best mental condition of the agent? of the percipient? What would be the effect of hypnotic trance? What of dreams? (These are not original ideas, but they have never been followed out as they should be, and might be, if the subject were pursued scientifically as other questions in science are.) Again, might not telepathy be facilitated if we chose individuals of the same general temperament? If we chose two individuals to whom the same chord on the piano appealed (say the common chord of G minor or C sharp), and this chord were struck repeatedly, might not telepathic transmission be facilitated under such conditions? If both subjects were hypnotized, and the agent were told to "will" certain figures, etc., might not the percipient receive them more easily? If both agent and percipient were placed in a strong magnetic or high-tension electric field, might not this in some way influence communication? Again, these are but a very few of the experiments which might be tried, once telepathy became an accepted fact.

In the case of clairvoyance the field is even greater, but here more original work has been done, owing largely to the fact that many of the experiments have been conducted upon subjects in the hypnotic trance, and hence more fully resembled "laboratory experiments." Still, much remains to be done, particularly in the realm of the explanation of clairvoyance, and in the investigation of the neural and general physiological concomitants of the condition.

In the field of "thought-" and "spirit-photography," the possibilities of research and experimentation are obvious and almost unlimited. The recent researches of Dr. Ochorowicz in "radiographs," and of Commandant Darget in thought-photography and the so-called V-rays, are of extreme importance, if true. Here is a field which any one may invade; and, with the aid of a camera and specially sensitive plates, might accomplish really valuable and striking results. Very rarely have attempts been made to photograph apparitions (probably because they were too fleeting and unexpected), and the forms at seances have been photographed on only a few occasions. The human "aura"—granting it exists—should certainly be capable of being photographed, under certain conditions, as well as the radiation said to issue from magnets, crystals, etc., as explained by Reichenbach.

The human "aura" itself should be made the subject of special study. Here is a perfectly tangible thing, so to speak, which physicists can work on to their hearts' content, without becoming "contaminated" by the general run of psychic manifestations! Is the aura a form of physical radiation? Does it affect the atmosphere? Can it be photographed? Is it connected with the phenomena of exteriorization of sensitivity or motivity? Will it affect the galvanometer needle, or other delicate electrical or physical instruments? Is it connected with the "astral" or "etheric body"? What is its condition when the subject is asleep? Can it be altered at will? Is it affected by passing a high-tension current through the body of the subject? (We know that these high-tension currents will themselves create an electric aura around the body.) What becomes of the aura after death; and what changes, if any, does it undergo at the moment of death? Such are a few of the questions which the psychic student might ask himself, and which certainly call for solution.

Once more: is "psychometry" a fact? If objects can retain certain "influences" within them, what is their nature, and how are they retained? How does the sensitive perceive these impressions? Is there not a connection between these phenomena and haunted houses? or between the "charging-up" of a table or planchette board before it proceeds to answer questions and behave in the manner it is often reported to do?

What is the nature of the "cold breeze" which is so often experienced, not only at seances, but during very many psychic phenomena, both of the experimental and spontaneous types, in all parts of the world? Is it a physical breeze, or is it purely "psychical"? Could it be collected and analysed, as was suggested in the case of the cold breeze issuing from the scar on Eusapia Palladino's forehead? What is its source? And what is its object? On this subject alone much suggestive and valuable research might be undertaken.

Take the simple phenomena of raps. What produces them? What is the bond between the hand of the medium which makes a gesture in the direction of the table, and the table itself? What is the nature of the physical impact upon the table? Are these raps due to exteriorized vital force? If so, does this energy exude from the nerve termini, or is it connected only with the etheric body or double? Can these raps be controlled at will, or directed and controlled when the subject is under hypnosis? Can this energy be directed at will? Could it not impress delicate physical instruments? Might not a connection be thus established between these phenomena and the impressions of hands and faces, etc., occasionally seen in the presence of Eusapia and other mediums?

Then the phenomena of materialization! Here is a wide field for study indeed! How can such an organism be built up? Out of what materials is it constructed? What degree of density can be attained? What is the power which manipulates this matter? and what is the structure of the matter itself? How can will plastically mould matter in space? On what framework, so to speak, is the body constructed? What is the nature of the vital drain upon the medium and the sitters? What is the nature of the intelligence animating the materialized figure? What is the connection between so-called "thought-forms" and materialized phantoms?

These are but some of the questions which would suggest themselves, and call for solution when "psychics" is recognized as a legitimate science, as it surely will be one day. These are problems mostly on the physical plane; but the psychological problems are just as many and just as alluring! I have referred to some of these elsewhere; and would content myself with again saying, that only when the facts of psychical research are recognized will their real, scientific study begin.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The copy of this book in my possession is the copy once owned by Dr. Hodgson—having his name in the front, and the date, April 1881. This passage is marked with a thick red pencil stroke, showing the importance which Dr. Hodgson attached to the point here made.

[2] Might not this account for the fact that trance or "spirit control" practically never occurs during the hours of sleep? Even "obsessed" patients find peace and rest during their sleeping hours. Is this not, in all probability, due to the fact that the mind is, at such times, forced in upon itself; as it were—instead of being directed outwards—away from the centre of being, as it is daily, during conscious life? It is probably nature's protective device—ensuring the stability and integrity of the psychic "self."

[3] Kilner, The Human Atmosphere. I myself have conducted a number of interesting experiments in this direction, which I hope to make public at a later date.

[4] Townsend, Facts in Mesmerism, p. 215.

[5] Metaphysick, bk. iii. ch. v.

[6] Body and Mind, pp. 299-300.

[7] Eusapia Palladino and her Phenomena, pp. 293-301.

[8] Vitality, Fasting and Nutrition, p. 41. For discussions of this question from a variety of different points of view, see Life and Matter, by Lodge; The Riddle of the Universe, Haeckel; The Correlation of Spiritual Forces, by Hartmann; "Consciousness and Force," Met. Mag., Oct. 1910; the article on "Consciousness and Energy," by Professor Montague, in Essays in Honour of William James, and pp. 283-5 of The New Realism, etc.

[9] Bulwer Lytton, with his usual remarkable foresight in things psychic, clearly perceived this. In his story, "The Haunters and the Haunted," he says: "In all that I had witnessed, and indeed in all the wonders which the amateurs of mystery in our age record as facts, a material human agency is always required. On the Continent you will still find magicians who assert that they can raise spirits. Assume for a moment that they assert truly, still the living, material form of the magician is present, and he is the material agency by which, from some constitutional peculiarities, certain strange phenomena are represented to your natural senses.... Accept again as truthful the tales of spirit manifestation in America, produced by no discernible hand—articles of furniture moved about without visible human agency—or the actual sight and touch of hands to which no bodies seem to belong—still there must be found the "medium," or living being, with constitutional peculiarities capable of obtaining these signs. In fine, in all such marvels, supposing even that there is no imposture, there must be a human being like ourselves, by whom, or through whom, the effects presented to human beings are produced."

[10] It should be said, however, that—apart from its innate difficulties—this theory has recently received its death-blow by the discovery of the fact that space is filled with ultra-violet rays, which would soon prove fatal to all forms of life.

[11] See, especially, Duncan, Some Chemical Problems of Today, pp. 63-83 and 97-104.

[12] "Rector" is the name of Mrs. Piper's chief control and amanuensis, during her trance sittings.



CHAPTER II

INVESTIGATING PSYCHICAL PHENOMENA WITH SCIENTIFIC INSTRUMENTS

It is generally conceded that Aristotle possessed the greatest single intellect the world has ever known; yet any schoolboy today knows more of the structure of our universe than did Aristotle! The reason for this is that Science has more fully penetrated the secrets of Nature, and we now know approximately the constitution of matter and a good deal concerning life and mind. How has this progress been possible? Only in one way. Improvement in the mechanical instruments by means of which we study Nature. We might "speculate" as to the constitution of matter for a thousand years, but we should never have arrived at our present positive knowledge had it not been for the delicate and sensitive instruments which are today in the hands of the physicist and the chemist, and employed by him in his laboratory.

Doubtless much the same law will be found to apply in the realm of "psychics." Until we can apply definite "laboratory methods," and study psychical phenomena by means of physical instruments far more delicate than our senses, it is probable that the present state of things will continue to exist; but it is my firm belief that, were a laboratory fitted up with physical and electrical apparatus, suitable for this work, and if we could by their aid study a promising case of "psychic" or "mediumistic" phenomena, we should (within ten years or so) arrive at some definite conclusions! We should then know something about the laws and conditions under which telepathy, clairvoyance, telekinesis (the movement of objects without contact), et cetera, operate, and not until this is done, I believe, will such positive conclusions be reached.

Of course the reader may object, just here, that I am assuming such phenomena to be true—while the tendency of many present-day scientists is to regard them as unreal, hallucinatory, and the result of fraud. I cannot spare the time in the present place to argue the point. While I admit freely that a very large percentage of such phenomena are so produced, and while I freely admit that probably 98 per cent of so-called "mediums" are fraudulent; I am equally emphatic in declaring that a residuum of genuine phenomena exists—that supernormal manifestations do occur, and that every one who investigates carefully enough and long enough will find them. This has been not only my own experience, but that of every person who has investigated this subject with an impartial mind for any length of time. As Sir Oliver Lodge said, in writing of this very question:

"The result of my experience is to convince me that certain phenomena, usually considered abnormal, do belong to the order of Nature, and as a corollary from this, that these phenomena ought to be investigated and recorded by persons and societies interested in natural knowledge."

Based on this conviction, Sir Oliver Lodge wrote, as far back as 1894, in a paper entitled "On Some Appliances Needed for a Psychical Laboratory":

"If the investigations are to go on easily and well, special appliances must be contrived and arranged conveniently for use, precisely as is done in any properly fitted laboratory. It has already doubtless been realized that one of the needs of the future is a psychical laboratory, specially adapted for all kinds of experimental psychology and psycho-physics...."

Sir Oliver Lodge suggested at the time, among other necessary appliances, a delicate registering balance,—so adjusted that it would record the medium's weight, unknown to her, at all times during the seance—the fluctuations in weight, if any, to be recorded on a revolving drum. Means ought also to be provided for studying the temperature, pulse, muscular exertion, breathing, etc., etc. The lighting of the room should be carefully attended to and capable of the slightest gradation. Means should be provided for obtaining moving pictures of the seance from without the room, unknown to the medium. Were the sittings held in complete darkness, these photographs could be obtained by means of ultra-violet light, with which the room might be flooded. In addition to these devices, we may add others—such as X-ray tubes, high-frequency currents and a delicate field of electric force,—while instruments for testing the ionization of the air (if it exists) in the immediate vicinity of the medium, during a seance, should also be employed,—together with the more strictly psychical instruments and devices which have been utilized of late years.

Electrical apparatus has, in fact, been utilized on several occasions to test so-called "physical mediums" in the past. Italian investigators, particularly, have excelled in this. In a series of seances conducted in Naples, the following apparatus was employed. (Fig. 1.)



A telegraphic key (b) was connected by wires (a,a) to a battery (d) and to two screws, connecting them with an electro-magnet (e) to the opposite end of which was attached a needle. The point of the needle touched a revolving drum (f), with a smoked surface, driven by two interlacing, cogged wheels. The whole of this registering apparatus was enclosed under a glass bell-jar (g). The telegraphic key itself (b) was covered by a cardboard box (c). The "powers" manifesting were asked to press the telegraphic key without tearing the cardboard box (that is, through it). When the key was depressed, this would be instantly communicated to the electro-magnet, and cause the needle to oscillate,—these oscillations being marked upon the smoked surface of the revolving drum. A number of successful tests were conducted by means of this apparatus.



A variation of this was then employed (Fig. 2). A cylinder filled with water (a) was connected by means of tubing (b) to a U-tube, or manometer (c), filled with mercury. Upon the further side of this tube floated a bent wire (e) inserted into a small cork. The point of this wire, again, was so adjusted as to come into contact with the smoked surface of a revolving drum (f), driven as before. The top of the cylinder (a) was covered with a rubber cap (d), and this whole apparatus was inserted under a wooden box (g) having a cloth top.

Now, if the rubber covering (d) were pressed upon, this would force some of the water, in a, along the tube, b, and the added air-pressure would depress the column of mercury in the manometer, causing the floating needle to rise on the opposite side, and scratch upon the revolving drum. Fig. 3 shows some of the tracings which were obtained in this way—the force acting through the cloth top, g.



The instruments thus recorded a definite physical, intelligent force.

It may interest my readers to know that, at the time of his death, M. Curie,—who had been completely convinced of the reality of these phenomena,—was busy devising an instrument which would register and direct psychic power liberated from the body of a physical medium when in trance.

Dr. Imoda, the assistant of Professor Mosso, has also conducted a number of experiments in the discharge of an electroscope, by means of "rays" issuing from the medium's body. It was found that, if the medium held her fingers at a distance of an inch or so from the knob of the electroscope, some form of energy, apparently radio-active in character, issued from her fingers, and gradually discharged the electroscope. This is the "radiation" or "emanation" issuing from the body, which has been studied extensively by students of the occult. Dr. Imoda concluded—as the result of his experiments—that "the radiations of radium, the cathode radiations of the Crookes' tube, and mediumistic radiations are fundamentally the same."

Some other very interesting facts have been observed by means of the electroscope. For example, Dr. W. J. Crawford (D.Sc), in his experiments, noted that:—

"... In seance rooms where tables are moved without physical contact, I found that after a sitting was well started, I was always unable to charge an electroscope, even though I tried to do so in the corner of the chamber farthest from the medium. In order to charge it I had to take it outside the room. I asked the 'operators' (intelligences 'directing things,' apparently, in the seance-room) if there was any 'power' in the seance-room so far away from the medium, and they answered in raps that there was. By 'power' I understand them to mean particles of matter taken from the medium...."

Again, in his Reality of Psychic Phenomena, he says:

"I took the electroscope to the table in the corner; then placed it in the circle near the medium. I asked the operators to touch the disc of the instrument very gently. They did this almost at once, the 'touching' consisting of a metallic scraping upon the brass disc, quite audible, similar in type to the imitation of the floor being rubbed with sand paper, a phenomenon I quite often observed.

"Result:—On examination, the electroscope was found to be completely discharged!

"I took the electroscope to the table in the corner of the room and tried to recharge it, but found I was unable to do so even after repeated trials. Accordingly I asked the 'operators' to put back into the body of the medium the matter they had taken out (for the production of the sledge-hammer blows) and to give a few raps when they had done so. In a minute or two some very light raps were given, and when I asked if the process was complete I received no raps in reply at all, which seemed to indicate to me that all the matter used for rapping had been returned to the medium. At any rate, I found that I could now charge the electroscope; which done, I placed it on the floor as before within the circle, and asked that the disc should be touched lightly. After a little time, there was the metallic scraping as before, and on examination the electroscope was found to be completely discharged."

It will be at once apparent to the reader that two problems confront the investigator, when once he is called upon to solve such problems as the above: (1) the physical miracle itself; and (2) the nature of the intelligence, lying behind and directing or controlling the manifestations. This latter is purely a psychological question, which, immensely important as it is intrinsically, does not enter into the physical problem. It need only be said that this is the baffling question in psychical investigation, and the most puzzling. Whether it be an independent "spirit," as it claims to be; or the subconsciousness of the medium; or whether it is a sort of compound consciousness, made up of the collected minds of those forming the circle at the time; or whether some other interpretation is open to us—this is all a moot question, which is referred to here, merely to draw attention to the fact of its existence.

It will be at once apparent to the reader, also, that physical and electrical apparatus have played an important part in such investigations, in the past, and are certainly destined to occupy a far more important place in the future. These curious phenomena—like all others in our world—depend upon invisible forces or energies for their production. Those interested in electricity should realize, more than all others, the power of the invisible; and the fact that the invisible is the real. Anything that we see consists merely in a bundle of "phenomena"—of effects. The real cause is always behind, and is always invisible.

There is nothing inherently absurd or impossible, therefore, in these odd manifestations,—however bizarre and unusual they appear to us at first sight. An unusual combination of circumstances might bring them about. Stones do not ordinarily fall out of the air; yet at times they do (meteors). Water does not usually rise above its own level, yet it can be made to do so. The curious freaks of lightning are well known. There is nothing inherently impossible, therefore, in supposing that a table can be "levitated" into the air, under unusual conditions; it is simply the manifestation of an unknown energy—of which, doubtless, there are many. We can manipulate and control the electric current; but we do not know yet precisely what it is. Similarly, we can study the effects of many of these curious biological forces, without understanding their true nature. Above all, it behooves us to keep an open mind, and not to cry "impossible," just because we have never seen such facts, or because they appear to us innately improbable.

Here, as elsewhere, we depend upon hidden and unknown energies. Could we but find an energy common to the two worlds—the spiritual world and the material world—we should have here a means of direct communication, possibly by instrumental means. Delicate physical and electrical apparatus may be the means, after all, by which such communication will ultimately be established! At all events, when subtle causes and forces are in operation (as they doubtless are during a seance) it is only natural to suppose that instruments, far more delicate than our senses, should be the logical method of detecting them, and, as yet, such experiments have rarely been attempted.

When we take into consideration, finally, the electrical theory of the nature of matter; when we remember the many striking analogies between electricity and the life-force; when we remember that the science of electricity is yet in its infancy, it should hold out to us the hope that, here, we may find a solution of many of these obscure problems, and that further investigations in the field of electricity may serve to explain to us many of these unknown and mysterious secrets of our inner nature, and the still more mysterious secrets of the seance-room. No more interesting and profitable researches could be attempted than those which endeavour to establish a connection between known and unknown phenomena; between physical and electrical manifestations, on the one hand, and these curious "psychical" phenomena, on the other. The crying need of the day is a "Psychical Laboratory," wherein such experiments as these could be conducted. It is my sincere hope that, some day, I may assist in the foundation of such a laboratory.



CHAPTER III

LIFE: AND ITS INTERPRETATION

(In the Light of M. Bergson's Philosophy)

The philosophy of life which M. Bergson advocates is more than a mere philosophy—more than a metaphysical doctrine; for, in so far as it endeavours to account for the "phenomena" of life, it entrenches upon biology; and M. Bergson himself is the first to acknowledge this. His own books are filled with interesting scientific data, which he has interpreted most ingeniously; and no broad-minded biologist can afford to neglect his work in the future. Two points of his theory call for special mention, however, it seems to me, and are subject, not to criticism but to discussion. One of these is that M. Bergson has not gone far enough in his interpretation of the facts; in the other he is, I believe, wrong in his interpretation—though his is the one commonly advanced and accepted. A few remarks on these two points may not, perhaps, be without interest.

It is apparent to any student of these problems that the interpretation of life which M. Bergson has adopted is very different from that usually held. The facts, the phenomena of life, are the same on either theory, the difference lying in their explanation. All the facts of life are the same; they may be interpreted equally well on either theory. It is important to bear this in mind for reasons which will become apparent as we proceed.

Now, the difference between M. Bergson's theory of life and that commonly held is this: that, whereas one[13] regards life as created or resulting from the total functioning of the body, the other regards it as something separate and distinct—merely utilizing the body for the purposes of its manifestation. In the one case, life is, as it were, made; in the other, it exists apart from the body it animates, and is merely associated with it. To sum up in two words, one is the production theory of life; the other is the transmissive. One theory leads direct to materialism; the other allows all sorts of possibilities, which are readily perceived by any student of these questions.

Thus stated, the situation at once reminds us of the controversy which raged some years ago as to the relation of brain and mind, as the result of the publication of James' lecture on Human Immortality. He then showed that it was quite possible to accept all the facts as to the relation of brain and consciousness, yet interpret them in a different manner; that there might be a transmissive function of the brain as well as a productive or secretive function; and that the undoubted fact of the inter-relation of the two sets of phenomena might just as well be interpreted in one way as in the other. The mere facts proved no theory true. As James so well said: "The psychologists noticed a connection, and at once assumed that it was the only possible kind of connection"—which was not at all the case. Mere coincidence, in two sets of phenomena, does not prove that they are causally related; that one produces the other. They may be quite separate from one another (psycho-physical parallelism), or both may be aspects of something else, etc. It is all a matter of interpretation, not of fact. But this is a view of the case which is seldom perceived, it seems to me, by psychologists generally. Seeing a coincidence, they at once postulate causal relation, and then proceed as if this had been thoroughly and scientifically established!

I have spoken of this analogy, drawn from psychology, because it bears upon the problem before us in the clearest possible manner. Just as consciousness is usually conceived to be due to the functioning of the brain; so life is conceived to be due to the functioning of the body; but just as mind can be shown to exist apart from brain, and merely manifest through it, in the same way, M. Bergson suggests, life may exist apart from matter, and merely animate it in its passage through it. It is all a question of interpretation.[14]

Is the interpretation correct? As Hamlet said: "That is the question!" To use the words of the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour (Hibbert Journal, October 1911, p. 18):

"M. Bergson regards matter as the dam which keeps back the rush of life. Organize it a little (as in the protozoa)—i.e. slightly raise the sluice—and a little life will squeeze through. Organize it elaborately (as in man)—i.e. raise the sluice a good deal—and much life will squeeze through. Now this may be a very plausible opinion if the flood of life be really there, beating against matter till it force an entry through the narrow slit of undifferentiated protoplasm. But is it there? Science, modesty professing ignorance, can stumble along without it, and I question whether philosophy, with only scientific data to work upon, can establish its reality."

It would seem to me that the only way to settle this question one way or the other is to bring forward certain facts which can be accounted for more fully and rationally on one theory than on the other. If facts could be produced which one theory could not account for at all, the alternative theory might be said to stand proved. Do such facts exist which tell in favour of M. Bergson's theory as against the other? I believe they do. Before coming to them, however, I must draw attention to certain weaknesses in the generally held theory of life, which are, it seems to me, also shared by M. Bergson's theory. Until these are disposed of, I do not believe that any definite forward step will be taken towards proof either in one direction or in the other. So long as certain fundamental tenets are held, it seems improbable that any one theory of life will be proved more than any other theory. M. Bergson has gone part of the way, in his demonstration, but he has stopped there instead of carrying his train of argument to its logical conclusion. At least so it appears to me; for I think it obvious that the chain of argument which M. Bergson adopts can be carried much further than he has carried it, in his various writings.

The view which M. Bergson adopts is somewhat as follows: Life is directive and creative; it utilizes the chemical and physical forces of the body for the purposes of its manifestation. It is the "spark" which sets off the explosive; it is the "hair-trigger" which liberates the enormous energy contained in the cartridge, etc. To apply the analogy: life utilizes and directs the energy obtained from food (by a species of chemical combustion) so that the bodily energy, as such, is, so to say, a "physical" energy, and subject to the law of conservation; while the power that guides, controls, and directs it is conscious life—the power of choice, the guider, the controller.

This view of the case is, I believe, unsound, and for two reasons. In the first place, it does not, I think, go far enough in its interpretation; and, in the second place, we are face to face with a paradox—the problem of no-energy affecting energy. Let us take the second of these objections first.

If a solid body, a fluid or a gas, be moving in a certain direction, a certain amount of energy must be exercised in order to divert its course—for otherwise it would continue in a straight line. Similarly, any energy will continue to exert itself in one direction, unless its course of activity be diverted into another channel; and this "divertion" constitutes a pressure, as it were, upon the energy; and this "pressure" can only be brought about by a "physical" force or energy—and so be within the law of conservation. No matter how slight this pressure—this guidance—may be, it is nevertheless there; and in so far as it directs the flow of energy, it must itself be energy—for otherwise it could not direct or divert it. Even the analogy of the banks of a river fails us, because in that case every atom of the banks is acting upon the body of the water by a material pressure; and hence the banks as a whole are. Either life must be energy, or it must be no-energy. If the first of these suppositions be true, things would be intelligible; but if the second were true, they would not be, because no-energy cannot effect or guide or control energy without itself being energy; and this would either make life a "physical" energy, or remove its power of guidance altogether. I do not see how these alternatives are to be avoided.

M. Bergson apparently tries to evade this issue by supposing that life only affects the energies of the body (derived from food) very slightly by a sort of "hair-trigger" action, which releases a vast amount of energy, quite disproportionate to the energy of direction applied. But surely this is a mere begging of the question! One is reminded of Marryat's character, who asked to have her illegitimate baby excused "because it was such a little one!" No matter how slight the amount of energy may be, if it is capable of affecting energy at all, it is energy, and hence subject to the law of conservation. Life, as energy, must lie wholly outside the law (in which case all talk of "control" and "guidance" must go by the board), or it must lie wholly within it (in which case life becomes a purely "physical" energy, like any other, and cannot well be thought to exercise this "guidance").[15]

We have thus seen that the second of our two alternatives (that life is no-energy) is untenable. Let us now return to the first—that life is energy—and see whither it leads us.

If life be a form or mode of energy, it might affect, guide, and direct other modes of energy, or the matter of the body (and, through it, of the inorganic world) readily enough. It would affect them, but blindly. It could have no intelligent action. If life be an energy, it must be like all other energies in this respect; it must fall within the law of conservation and be non-intelligent. Otherwise it would be something different from all other forms of energy; and so we should have energy, plus intelligence, in the case of life; and only energy for all other forms. But in that case life could not simply be converted into or derived from any other mode of energy; because we should have "intelligence" left over, in our equation—which was created de novo whenever life was derived from other energies, and plunged into extinction and nothingness whenever life passed into any other mode of energy—in the course of our daily lives. But this is contrary both to experience and to all legitimate scientific thinking! Life, therefore, cannot be an intelligent or a directive energy. And so this argument also goes by the board, and we have left to us only the old materialistic conception of a non-intelligent, blind, life-force, or energy, derived from food, by a process of chemical combustion, and essentially no more mysterious than any other energy. This, therefore, is the conclusion to which we seem driven.

But such a conclusion is not only contrary to M. Bergson's philosophy, but to daily observation and scientific knowledge; for we know that life is directive, purposive, and progressive, and if evolution teaches us anything, it tells us that it must have been so always. We are thus driven into this dilemma: life must be an energy—but, as such, it cannot be purposive! Life is purposive, yet it must be an energy—for otherwise it could not affect the bodily energies and the material world! Here then is an apparent paradox—a flat contradiction—incapable of solution or further elucidation.

M. Bergson (and before him Sir Oliver Lodge and others) has attempted to meet this difficulty by supposing that the energy of the body is a "physical" energy, derived from food, and, as such, blind and subject to the law of conservation. This energy, they assert, is however manipulated and directed by the power of life or consciousness, which makes "use" of it, directs, and guides it. But this theory is, it seems to me, refuted by the arguments just advanced, which show that life and consciousness cannot affect energy in this way unless they themselves be energy; and thus we are in a "vicious circle" again, with no hope of ever getting out.

The whole difficulty has arisen, it seems to me, because of the conception of the nature of life usually held. Were this altered these problems would be found to have a ready solution. M. Bergson has gone half way toward finding this solution, but has stopped there; he has clung to the most fallacious part of the theory, and for this reason has been unable to emerge altogether from the difficulties above mentioned. Only when we change our conception of the nature of the life-force will these problems become clearer—these questions find their true solution.

Have I, then, any theory to offer as to the nature of this power of life which is essentially new to physiology and biology? I believe that I have—not new as to facts, but as to the interpretation of facts (the latter remain the same on either theory).

In order to make the theory which follows plain in as few words as possible, it will be necessary to refer for a moment to the current conception of vital energy—of life—in the human body. It has been stated by Bergson himself with admirable clearness (Hibbert Journal, October 1911, pp. 35-36; Creative Evolution, pp. 253-54, etc.), and is briefly this:

Food, when broken down and oxidised in the body, gives forth or liberates energy—just as coal liberates energy when burned in the engine. In both cases energy (contained in the food or the coal, as the case may be) is liberated, and this energy is utilized to drive our engine—the human body or the steam-engine (it makes no difference to the argument). The energy thus gained is, it is contended, again given off as heat and work—muscular and mental work in the case of the human engine (the body); mechanical work of all sorts, and heat, in the case of the steam-engine. Thus one is essentially no more mysterious than the other—the body no more so than the steam-engine—vitality no more so than steam! Both are "physical" energies, subject to the law of conservation, and as such transmutable one into the other. This is the generally accepted theory, which likens the human body to a steam-engine, and is the theory all but universally adopted by scientific men, held as proved and adopted without question by M. Bergson!

But such a view of the case is, I believe, essentially untrue. It is one interpretation of the observed facts, truly; but not the only interpretation. The facts remain equally true on either theory; the difference lies in their explanation. It is the old error of confusing coincidence with causation—and not only that, but a particular kind of causation, and "treating it as the only imaginable kind." Just as the psychologists reasoned upon the acknowledged facts of the relation of brain and consciousness; so do the physiologists, in our own day, reason upon this question of the causation of vital energy by food. In both cases there has been one-sided and partial reasoning.

If, however, we reject the prevalent notion of the causation of vital energy by food, we must have another theory to offer in its place. It is, I know, presumptuous thus to run counter to the whole of accepted teaching, in this respect, and my excuse must be that I believe my theory represents the truth, while that universally held does not! Again, I must emphasize that I speak, not of facts, but of inferences drawn from facts. With this apology, I shall state my own view of the case as follows:

Instead of comparing the human body with the steam-engine, it should be compared with and likened to the electric motor. Just as the motor is recharged, or receives its energy from some external source, just so, I believe, is the human nervous system recharged from without, during the hours of sleep. It is placed into a peculiar, receptive condition, in which this "recharging" process takes place. Our energy is derived through sleep, and not from food. Food merely replaces broken-down tissue (and, if you will, the animal heat) but never supplies or creates its vital energy. This depends upon its nervous mechanism, and upon sleep, and not upon the muscular system and chemical combustion. What differentiates the steam-engine from the human organism is the fact that one needs sleep while the other does not (in other words, one is living and vital, and the other is not), yet, in spite of this obvious difference—which is so great that it really destroys all the analogy—physiologists have continued to disregard it, and to treat the human body as a mere machine—such as a steam-engine—which requires no sleep, and derives its energy solely by combustion! To my mind, this is one of the most curious paradoxes of modern science.

To place the theory in as clear a light as possible, then, it is this: Food supplies or replaces broken-down tissue (and heat) to the body; but not vitality, or the power of life, which comes only from rest and sleep. No matter how much food we may eat and perfectly oxidise, there comes a time, nevertheless, when we must go to bed, and not to the dining-room, to recuperate our strength and energies. During sleep, vital energy flows into us (our nervous systems), and all animals need sleep—this fact differentiating them, at once, from any form of mechanical engine. Life, vital energy, is not due, as is universally thought, to chemical combustion, but to vital replenishment. No energy is created within the body; it is merely transmitted. The body, in fact, acts as a means of transmission—as a sort of "organic burning glass" which transmits and focuses the sun's rays on one focal point. And just as any crack, or blur, or clouding, or other accident to the burning glass would interfere with its power and capacity from transmitting the rays, so, any accident or disease or pathological state of the organism would interfere with or altogether prevent the passage or flow through it, of the life or vital energy. "The more perfect, the better these conditions, the greater the influx of vital force, and vice versa. We must see that all the electrodes and avenues and channels are bright and clear, so that there shall be as little hindrance as possible to either the inflow of energy in the form of power, or to its outflow in the form of work done." My theory of the relation of body and bodily energy is, in fact, an extension of James' "transmission theory" of consciousness to the whole of our life and vital energy. And I believe the one is as defensible as the other.