MYSTERIOUS PSYCHIC FORCES

MYSTERIOUS
PSYCHIC FORCES

AN ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S INVESTIGATIONS IN
PSYCHICAL RESEARCH, TOGETHER WITH THOSE
OF OTHER EUROPEAN SAVANTS

BY
CAMILLE FLAMMARION
Director of Observatory of Jovisy,
France. Author of "The Unknown,"
"The Atmosphere," etc.

BOSTON
SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY
1909

Copyright, 1907,
By Small, Maynard & Co.

All rights reserved.

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.

He who pronounces anything to be "impossible," outside of the field of pure mathematics, is wanting in prudence.

Francois Arago.

A learned pedant who laughs at the possible comes very near being an idiot. To purposely shun a fact, and turn one's back upon it with a supercilious smile, is to bankrupt Truth.

Victor Hugo.

Science is under bonds, by the eternal principles of honor, to look fearlessly in the face every problem that is presented to her.

Sir William Thompson.

PREFACE

The subject treated in the following pages has made great progress in the course of forty years. Now what we are concerned with in psychical studies is always unknown forces, and these forces must belong to the natural order, for nature embraces the entire universe, and everything is therefore under the sway of her sceptre.

I do not conceal from myself, however, that the present work will excite discussion and bring forth legimate objections, and will only satisfy independent and unbiased investigators. But nothing is rarer upon our planet than an independent and absolutely untrammelled mind, nor is anything rarer than a true scientific spirit of inquiry, freed from all personal interest. Most readers will say: "What is there in these studies, anyway? The lifting of tables, the moving of various pieces of furniture, the displacement of easy-chairs, the rising and falling of pianos, the blowing about of curtains, mysterious rappings, responses to mental questions, dictations of sentences in reverse order, apparitions of hands, of heads, or of spectral figures,—these are only common place trivialities or cheap hoaxes, unworthy to occupy the attention of a scientist or scholar. And what would it all prove even if it were true? That kind of thing does not interest us."

Well, there are people upon whose heads the sky might tumble without causing them any unusual emotion.

But I reply: What! is it nothing to know, to prove, to see with one's own eyes, that there are unknown forces around us? Is it nothing to study our own proper nature and our own faculties? Are not the mysterious problems of our being such as are worthy to be inscribed on the program of our investigation, and of having devoted to them laborious nights and days? Of course, the independent seeker gets no thanks from anybody for his toil. But what of that? We work for the pleasure of working, of fathoming the secrets of nature, and of instructing ourselves. When, in studying the double stars at the Paris Observatory and cataloguing these celestial twins, I established for the first time a natural classification of those distant orbs; when I discovered stellar systems, composed of several stars, swept onward through immensity by one common impulse; when I studied the planet Mars and compared all the observations made during two hundred years in order to obtain at once an analysis and a synthesis of this next-door neighbor of ours among the planets; when, in examining the effect of solar radiations I created the new branch of physics to which has been given the name "radioculture" and caused variations of the most radical and sweeping nature in the dimensions, the forms, and the colors of certain plants; when I discovered that a grasshopper, eviscerated and kept in straw did not die, and that these insects can live for a fortnight after having had their heads cut off; when I planted in a conservatory of the Museum of Natural History, in Paris, one of the ordinary oaks of our woods (quercus robur), thinking that, if withdrawn from the changes of seasons, it would always have green leaves (a thing which everybody can prove),—when I was doing these things I was working for my own personal pleasure; but that is no reason why these studies have not been useful in the developing work of science, and no reason for their not being admitted within the scope of the practical work of specialists.

It is the same with these psychical studies of ours; only there is a little more passion and prejudice connected with them. On the one hand, the sceptics cleave fast to their denials, convinced that they know all the forces of nature, that all mediums are humbugs, and all experimenters imbeciles. On the other hand, there are the credulous Spiritualists, who imagine they always have spirits at their beck and call in a centre-table, who evoke, with the utmost sang-froid, the spirits of Plato, Zoroaster, Jesus Christ, St. Augustine, Charlemagne, Shakespeare, Newton, or Napoleon, and who set about stoning me for the tenth or twentieth time, affirming that I am sold to the Institute on account of a deep-seated and obstinate ambition, and that I dare not declare myself in favor of the identity of the spirits for fear of annoying my illustrious friends. The individuals of this class refuse to be satisfied just as much as the first class.

So much the worse for them! I insist on only saying what I know; but I do say this.

And if what I know is displeasing, so much the worse for the prejudices, the general ignorance, and the good breeding of these distinguished gentry, in whose eyes the maximum of happiness consists in an increase of their fortune, the pursuit of lucrative places, sensual pleasures, automobile-racing, a box at the Opéra, or five-o'clock teas at a fashionable restaurant, and whose lives are frittered away along paths that never cross those of the rapt idealist, and who never know the pure satisfaction of his mind and heart, or the pleasures of thought and feeling.

As for me, a humble student of the prodigious problem of the universe, I am only a seeker. What are we? We have scarcely shed a ray more of light on this point than at the time when Socrates laid down, as a principle, the maxim, Know thyself,—notwithstanding we have measured the distances of the stars, analyzed the sun, and weighed the worlds of space. Does it stand to reason that the knowledge of ourselves should interest us less than that of the macrocosm, the external world? It is not credible. Let us therefore study on, convinced that all sincere research will further the progress of humanity.

Juvisy Observatory, December, 1906.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION

As long ago as 1865 I published, under the title, Unknown Natural Forces, a little monograph of a hundred and fifty pages which is still occasionally found in the book-shops, but has not been reprinted. I reprint here (pp. xiii-xxiii), what I wrote at that time in this critical study "apropos of the phenomena produced by the Davenport brothers and mediums in general." It was published by Didier & Co., book-sellers to the Academy, who had already issued my first two works, The Plurality of Inhabited Worlds and Imaginary Worlds and Real Worlds.

"France has just been engaged in an exciting debate, where the sound of voices was drowned in a great uproar, and out of which no conclusion has emerged. A disputation more noisy than intelligent has been raging around a whole group of unexplained facts, and so completely muddled the problem that, in place of illuminating it, the debate has only served to shroud it in deeper darkness.

"During the discussion a singular remark was frequently heard, to the effect that those who shouted the loudest in this court of assize were the very ones who were least informed on the subject. It was an amusing spectacle to see these persons in a death-grapple with mere phantoms. Panurge himself would have laughed at it.

"The result of the matter is that less is known to-day upon the subject in dispute than at the opening of the debates.

"In the mean time, seated upon neighboring heights were certain excellent old fellows who observed the writs of arrest issued against the more violent combatants, but who remained for the most part grave and silent, though they occasionally smiled, and withal did a deal of hard thinking.

"I am going to state what weight should be given to the opinions of those of us who do not rashly affirm the impossibility of the facts now put under the ban and who do not add their voices to the dominant note of opposition.

"I do not conceal from myself the consequences of such sincerity. It requires a good deal of boldness to insist on affirming, in the name of positive science, the POSSIBILITY of these phenomena (wrongly styled supernatural), and to constitute one's self the champion of a cause apparently ridiculous, absurd, and dangerous, knowing, at the same time, that the avowed adherents of said cause have little standing in science, and that even its eminent partisans only venture to speak of their approval of it with bated breath. However, since the matter has just been treated momentarily in fugitive writings by a group of journalists whose exacting labors wholly forbid a study of the psychic and physical forces; and since, of all this multitude of writers, the greater part have only heaped error upon error, puerility upon extravagance; and since it appears from every page they have written (I hope they will pardon me) that not only are they ignorant of the very a, b, c of the subject they have so fantastically treated, but their opinions upon this class of facts rest upon no basis whatever,—therefore I have thought it would serve a purpose if I should leave, as a souvenir of the long wrangle, a piece of writing better based and buttressed than the lucubrations of the above-mentioned gentlemen. As a lover of truth, I am willing to face a thousand reproaches. Be it distinctly understood that I do not for a moment deem my judgment superior to that of my confrères, some of whom are in other respects highly gifted. The simple fact is that they are not familiar with this subject, but are straying in it at random, wandering through a strange region. They misunderstand the very terminology, and imagine that facts long ago well authenticated are impossible. By way of contrast, the writer of these lines will state that for several years he has been engaged in discussions and experiments upon the subject. (I am not speaking of historical studies.)

"Moreover, although the old saw would have us believe that 'it is not always desirable to state the truth,' yet, to speak frankly, I am so indignant at the overweening presumption of certain polemical opponents, and at the gall they have injected into the debate, that I do not hesitate to rise and point out to the deceived public that, without a single exception, all the arguments brought up by these writers, and upon which they have boldly planted their banner of victory, prove absolutely nothing, NOTHING, against the possible truth of the things which they, in the fury of their denial, have so perverted. Such a snarl of opinions must be analyzed. In brief, the true must be disentangled from the false. Veritas, veritas!"

"I hasten to anticipate a criticism on the part of my readers by apprising them, on the threshold of this plea, that I am not going to take the Davenport brothers as my subject, but only as the ostensible motive or pretext of the discussion,—as they have been, for that matter, of the majority of the discussions. I shall deal in these pages with the facts brought to the surface again by these two Americans,—facts inexplicable (which they have put on the stage at Herz Hall here in Paris, but which none the less existed before this mise-en-scène, and which none the less will exist even should the Davenport brothers' representations prove to be counterfeit),—things which others had already exhibited, and still exhibit with as much facility and under much better conditions; occurrences, in short, which constitute the domain of the unknown forces to which have been given, one after another, five or six names explaining nothing. These forces, mind you, are as real as the attraction of gravitation, and as invisible as that. It is about facts that I here concern myself. Let them be brought to the light by Peter or by Paul, it concerns us little; let them be imitated by Sosie[1] or parodied by Harlequin, still less does it concern us. The question is, Do these facts exist, and do they enter into the category of known physical forces?

"It amazes me, every time I think of it, that the majority of men are so densely ignorant of the psychic phenomena in question, considering the fact that they have been known, studied, valued, and recorded for a good long time now by all who have impartially followed the movement of thought during the last few lustrums.

"I not only do not make common cause with the Davenport brothers, but I ought furthermore to add that I consider them as placed in a very compromising situation. In laying to the account of the supernatural matters in occult natural philosophy which have a tolerable resemblance to feats of prestidigitation, they appear to a curious public to add imposture to insolence. In setting a financial value upon their talents, they seem to the moralist, who is investigating still unexplained phenomena, to place themselves on the level of mountebanks. Whatever way you look at them, they are to blame. Accordingly, I condemn at once both their grave error in assuming to be superior to the forces of which they are only the instruments and the venal profit they draw from powers of which they are not master and which it is no merit of theirs to possess. In my opinion, it is a piece of exaggeration to draw conclusions from these unhappy semblances of truth; and it is to abdicate one's right of private judgment to make one's self but the echo of the vulgar herd who hiss and shout themselves hoarse before the curtain rises. No, I am not the advocate of the two brothers, nor of their personal claims. For me, individual men do not exist. That which I defend is the superiority of nature to us: that which I fight against is the conceited silliness of certain persons.

"You satirical gentlemen will have the frankness, I hope, to confess with me that the different reasons pleaded by you in explanation of these problems are not so solid as they appear to be. Since you have discovered nothing, let us admit, between ourselves, that your explanations explain nothing.

"I do not doubt that, at the point in the discussion which we have actually reached, you would like to change rôles with me, and, stopping me here, constitute yourselves in turn my questioners.

"But I hasten to anticipate your proposal. As for me, gentlemen, I am not sufficiently well informed to explain these mysteries. I pass my life in a retired garden belonging to one of the nine Muses, and my attachment to this fair creature is such that I have scarcely ever quitted the approaches to her temple. It is only at intervals, in moments of relaxation or curiosity, that I have allowed my eyes to wander, from time to time, over the landscapes which surround it. Therefore ask me nothing. I am making a sincere confession. I know nothing of the cause of these phenomena.

"You see how modest I am. All I wanted in undertaking this examination was to have the opportunity of saying this:

"You know nothing about it.

"Neither do I.

"If you acknowledge this, we can shake hands. And, if you are tractable, I will tell you a little secret.

"In the month of June, 1776 (few among us remember it), a young man twenty-five years old, named Jouffroy, was making a trial trip on the river Doubs of a new steamboat forty feet in length and six feet in breadth. For two years he had been calling the attention of scientific authorities to his invention; for two years he had been stoutly asserting that there is a powerful latent energy in steam,—at that time a neglected asset. All ears were deaf to his words. His only reward was to be completely isolated and neglected. When he passed through the streets of Baume-les-Dames, his appearance was the signal for jests innumerable. He was dubbed 'Jouffroy, the Steam Man' ('Jouffroy-la-Pompe'). Ten years later, having built a pyroscaphe [literally, fireboat] which had ascended the Saône from Lyons to the island of Barbe, he presented a petition to Calonne, the comptroller-general of finance, and to the Academy of Sciences. They would not look at his invention!

"On August 9, 1803, Fulton went up the Seine in a new steamboat at the rate of about four miles an hour. The members of the Academy of Sciences as well as government officials were present on the occasion. The next day they had forgotten all about it, and Fulton went to make the fortunes of Americans.

"In 1791 an Italian at Bologna, named Galvani, having hung on the iron railing outside his window some skinned frogs which had been used in making a bouillon for his wife, noted that they moved automatically, although they had been killed since the evening before. The thing was incredible, so everybody to whom he told it opposed his statement. Men of sense would have thought it beneath their dignity to take the trouble to verify the story, so convinced were they of its impossibility. But Galvani had noted that the maximum of effect was attained when he joined the lumbar nerves and the ends of the feet of a frog by a metallic arc of tin and copper. The frog's muscles then jerked convulsively. He believed it was due to a nervous fluid, and so lost the fruit of his investigations. It was reserved for Volta to discover electricity.

"And to-day the globe is threaded with a network of trains drawn by flame-breathing dragons. Distances have disappeared, annihilated by improvements in the locomotive. The genius of man has contracted the dimensions of the earth; the longest voyages are but excursions over definite lines (the curved paths of the 'ocean lanes'); the most gigantic tasks are accomplished by the tireless and powerful hand of this unknown force. A telegraphic despatch flies in the twinkling of an eye from one continent to another; a man can talk with a citizen of London or St. Petersburg without getting out of his arm-chair. And these wonders attract no special notice. We little think through what struggles, bitter disappointments and persecutions they came into being! We forget that the impossible of yesterday is the accomplished fact of to-day. So it comes to pass that we still find men who come to us saying: 'Halt there, you little fellows! We don't understand you, therefore you don't know what you're talking about.'

"Very well, gentlemen. However narrow may be your opinions, there is no reason for thinking that your myopia is to spread over the world. You are hereby informed that, in spite of you and in spite of your obscurantism and obstruction tactics, the car of human progress will roll on and continue its triumphal march and conquest of new forces and powers. As in the case of Galvani's frog, the laughable occurrences that you refuse to believe reveal the existence of new unknown forces. There is no effect without a cause. Man is the least known of all beings. We have learned how to measure the sun, cross the deeps of space, analyze the light of the stars, and yet have not dropped a plummet into our own souls. Man is dual,—homo duplex; and this double nature remains a mystery to him. We think: what is thought? No one can say. We walk: what is that organic act? No one knows. My will is an immaterial force; all the faculties of my soul are immaterial. Nevertheless, if I will to move my arm, my will moves matter. How does it act? What is the mediator between mind and muscle? As yet no one can say. Tell me how the optic nerve transmits to the thinking brain the perception of outward objects. Tell me how thought is born, where it resides, what is the nature of cerebral action. Tell me—but no, gentlemen: I could question you for ten years on a stretch, and the most eminent of you could not answer the least of my interrogatories.

"We have here, as in the preceding cases, the unknown element in a problem. I am far from claiming that the force that comes into play in these phenomena can one day be financially exploited, as in the case of electricity and steam. Such an idea has not the slightest interest for me. But, though differing essentially from these forces, the mysterious psychic force none the less exists.

"In the course of the long and laborious studies to which I have consecrated many a night, as a relief or by-play in more important work, I have always observed in these phenomena the action of a force the properties of which are to us unknown. Sometimes it has seemed to me analogous to that which puts to sleep the magnetized subject under the will of the hypnotizer (a reality this, also slighted even by men of science). Again, in other circumstances, it has seemed to me analogous to the curious freaks of the lightning. Still, I believe I can affirm it to be a force distinct from all that we know, and which more than any other resembles intelligence.

"A certain savant with whom I am acquainted, M. Frémy, of the Institute, has recently presented to the Academy of Science, apropos of spontaneous generation, substances which he has called semi-organic. I believe I am not perpetrating a neologism bolder than this when I say that the force of which I am speaking has seemed to me to belong to the semi-intellectual plane.

"Some years ago I gave these forces the name psychic. That name can be justified.

"But words are nothing. They often resemble cuirasses, hiding the real impression that ideas should produce in us. That is the reason why it is perhaps better not to name a thing that we are not yet able to define. If we did, we should find ourselves so shackled afterwards as not to have perfect freedom in our conclusions. It has often been seen in history that a premature hypothesis has arrested the progress of science, says Grove: 'When natural phenomena are observed for the first time, a tendency immediately arises to relate them to something already known. The new phenomenon may be quite remote from the ideas with which one would compare it. It may belong to a different order of analogies. But this distinction cannot be perceived, since the necessary data or co-ordinates are lacking.' Now the theory originally announced is soon accepted by the public; and when it happens that subsequent facts, different from the preceding, fail to fit the mould, it is difficult to enlarge this without breaking it, and people often prefer to abandon a theory now proved erroneous, and silently ignore the intractable facts. As to the special phenomena in question in this little volume, I find them implicitly embodied in three words uttered nearly twenty centuries ago,—MENS AGITAT MOLEM (mind acting on matter gives it life and motion); and I leave the phenomena embedded in these words, like fire in the flint. I will not strike with the steel, for the spark is still dangerous. 'Periculosum est credere et non credere' ('It is dangerous to believe and not to believe'), says the ancient fabulist Phædrus. To deny facts a priori is mere conceit and idiocy. To accept them without investigation is weakness and folly. Why seek to press on so eagerly and prematurely into regions to which our poor powers cannot yet attain? The way is full of snares and bottomless pits. The phenomena we are treating in these pages do not perhaps throw new light upon the solution of the great problem of immortality, but they invite us to remember that there are in man elements to study, to determine, to analyze,—elements still unexplained, and which belong to the psychic realm.

"There has been much talk about Spiritualism in connection with these phenomena. Some of its defenders have thought to strengthen it by supporting it on so weak a basis as that. The scoffers have thought they could positively ruin the creed of the psychics, and, hurling it from its base, bury it under a fallen wardrobe (l'éboulement d'une armoire).[2] Now the first-named have rather compromised than assisted the cause: the others have not overturned it after all. Even if it should be proved that Spiritualism consists only of tricks of legerdemain, the belief in the existence of souls separate from the body would not be affected in the slightest degree. Besides, the deceptions of mediums do not prove that they are always tricky. They only put us on our guard, and induce us to keep a stern watch upon them.

"As to the psychological question of the soul and the analysis of spiritual forces, we are just where chemistry was at the time of Albert the Great: we don't know.

"Can we not then keep the golden mean between negation, which denies all, and credulity, which accepts all? Is it rational to deny everything that we cannot understand, or, on the contrary, to believe all the follies that morbid imaginations give birth to, one after another? Can we not possess at once the humility which becomes the weak and the dignity which becomes the strong?

"I end this plea, as I began it, by declaring that it is not for the sake of the brothers Davenport, nor of any sect, nor of any group, nor, in short, of any person whatever, that I have entered the lists of controversy, but solely for the sake of facts the reality of which I ascertained several years ago, without having discovered their cause. However, I have no reason to fear that those who do not know me will take a fancy to misrepresent my thought; and I think that those who are acquainted with me know that I am not accustomed to swing a censer in any one's honor. I repeat for the last time: I am not concerned with individuals. My mind seeks the truth, and recognizes it wherever it finds it. 'Gallus escam quærens margaritam reperit.'"[3]

A certain number of my readers have been for some time kindly expressing a wish for a new edition of this early book. But strictly speaking I could not do this without considerably enlarging my original plan and composing an entirely new work. The daily routine of my astronomical labors has constantly hindered me from devoting myself to that task. The starry heaven is a vast and absorbing field of work, and it is difficult to turn aside (even for a relaxation in itself scientific) from the exacting claims of a science which goes on developing unceasingly at a most prodigious rate.

Still, the present work may be considered as, in a sense, an enlarged edition of the earlier one. The foregoing citation of a little book written for the purpose of proving the existence of unknown forces in nature has seemed to me necessary here; useful in this new volume, brought out for the same purpose after more than forty years of study, since it may serve to show the continuity and consistent development of my thought on the subject.

MYSTERIOUS PSYCHIC FORCES

CHAPTER I

ON CERTAIN UNKNOWN NATURAL FORCES

I purpose to show in this book what truth there is in the phenomena of table-turnings, table-movings, and table-rappings, in the communications received therefrom, in levitations that contradict the laws of gravity, in the moving of objects without contact, in unexplained noises, in the stories told of haunted houses,—all to be considered from the physical and mechanical point of view. Under all the just mentioned heads we can group material facts produced by causes still unknown to science, and it is with these physical phenomena that we shall specially occupy ourselves here; for the first point is to definitely prove, by sufficient observations, their real existence. Hypotheses, theories, doctrines, will come later.

In the country of Rabelais, of Montaigne, of Voltaire, we are inclined to smile at everything that relates to the marvellous, to tales of enchantment, the extravagances of occultism, the mysteries of magic. This arises from a reasonable prudence. But it does not go far enough. To deny and prejudge a phenomenon has never proved anything. The truth of almost every fact which constitutes the sum of the positive sciences of our day has been denied. What we ought to do is to admit no unverified statement, to apply to every subject of study, no matter what, the experimental method, without any preconceived idea whatever, either for or against.

We are dealing here with a great problem, which touches on that of the survival of human consciousness. We may study it, in spite of smiles.

When we consecrate our lives to an idea, useful, noble, exalted, we should not hesitate for a moment to sacrifice personalities; above all, our own self, our interest, our self-esteem, our natural vanity. This sacrifice is a criterion by which I have estimated a good many characters. How many men, how many women, put their miserable little personality above everything else!

If the forces of which we are to treat are real, they cannot but be natural forces. We ought to admit, as an absolute principle, that everything is in nature, even God himself, as I have shown in another work. Before any attempt at theory, the first thing to do is to scientifically establish the real existence of these forces.

Mediumistic experiences might form (and doubtless soon will form) a chapter in physics. Only it is a kind of transcendental physics which touches on life and thought, and the forces in play are pre-eminently living forces, psychic forces.

I shall relate in the following chapter the experiments I made between the years 1861 and 1865, previous to the penning of the protest, reprinted in the long citation above given (in the Introduction). But, since in certain respects they are summed up in those I have just had, in 1906, I will begin by describing the latter in this first chapter.

In fact, I have recently renewed these investigations with a celebrated medium,—Mme. Eusapia Paladino, of Naples, who has been several times in Paris; namely, in 1898, 1905, and, very recently, in 1906. The things I am going to speak of happened in the salon of my home in Paris,—the last ones in full light without any preparation, very simply, as if during after-dinner talks.

Let me add that this medium came to Paris during the first months of the year, 1906, at the invitation of the Psychological Institute, several members of which have been recently engaged in researches begun long ago. Among these savants I will mention the name of the lamented Pierre Curie, the eminent chemist, with whom I had a conversation a few days before his unfortunate and terrible death. My mediumistic experiences with Mme. Paladino formed for him a new chapter in the great book of nature, and he also was convinced that there exist hidden forces to the investigation of which it is not unscientific to consecrate one's self. His subtle and penetrating genius would perhaps have quickly determined the character of these forces.

Those who have given some little attention to these psychological studies are acquainted with the powers of Mme. Paladino. The published works of Count de Rochas, of Professor Richet, of Dr. Dariex, of M. G. de Fontenay, and notably the Annales des sciences psychiques, have pointed them out and described them in such detail that it would be superfluous to recur to them at this point. Farther on we shall find a place for discussing them.

Running underneath all the observations of the above-mentioned writers, one dominant idea can be read as if in palimpsest; namely, the imperious necessity the experimenters are constantly under of suspecting tricks in this medium (Mme. Paladino). But all mediums, men and women, have to be watched. During a period of more than forty years I believe that I have received at my home nearly all of them, men and women of divers nationalities and from every quarter of the globe. One may lay it down as a principle that all professional mediums cheat. But they do not always cheat; and they possess real, undeniable psychic powers.

Their case is nearly that of the hysterical folk under observation at the Salpêtrière or elsewhere. I have seen some of them outwit with their profound craft not only Dr. Charcot, but especially Dr. Luys, and all the physicians who were making a study of their case. But, because hysteriacs deceive and simulate, it would be a gross error to conclude that hysteria does not exist. And, because mediums frequently descend to the most brazen-faced imposture, it would not be less absurd to conclude that mediumship has no existence. Disreputable somnambulists do not forbid the existence of magnetism, hypnotism, and genuine somnambulism.

This necessity of being constantly on our guard has discouraged more than one investigator, as the illustrious astronomer Schiaparelli, director of the Observatory of Milan, specially wrote me, in a letter which will appear farther on.

Still, we have got to endure this evil.

The words "fraud" (supercherie) and "trickery" (tricherie) have in this connection a sense a little different from their ordinary meaning. Sometimes the mediums deceive purposely, knowing well what they are doing, and enjoying the fun. But oftener they unconsciously deceive, impelled by the desire to produce the phenomena that people are expecting.

They help on the success of the experiment when that success is slow in its appearance. Mediums who deal with objective phenomena are gifted with the power of causing objects at a distance to move, of lifting tables, etc. But they usually appear to apply this power at the ends of their fingers, and the objects to be moved have to be within reach of their hands or feet, a very regrettable thing, and one which furnishes fine sport for the prejudiced sceptics. Sometimes the mediums act like the billiard player, who continues for an instant the gesture of hand and arm, holding his cue pointed at the rolling ivory ball, and leaning forward as if by his will he could push it to a carom. He knows very well that he has no further power over the fate of the ball, which his initial stroke alone impels; but he guides its course by his thought and his gesture.

It may not be superfluous to caution the reader that the word "medium" is employed in these pages without any preconceived idea, and not in the etymological sense in which it took its rise at the time of the first Spiritualistic theories, which affirmed that the man or the woman endowed with psychic powers is an intermediary between spirits and those who are experimenting. The person who has the power of causing objects to move contrary to the laws of gravity (even sometimes without touching them), of causing sounds to be heard at a distance and without any exertion of muscular force, and of bringing before the eyes various apparitions, has not necessarily, on that account, any bond of union with disembodied minds or souls. We shall keep this word "medium," however, now so long in use. We are concerned here only with facts. I hope to convince the reader that these things really exist, and are neither illusions nor farces, nor feats of prestidigitation. My object is to prove their reality with absolute certainty, to do for them what (in my volume The Unknown and the Psychic Problems) I have done for telepathy, the apparitions of the dying, premonitory dreams, and clairvoyance.

I shall begin, I repeat, with experiments which I have recently renewed; namely, during four séances on March 29, April 5, May 30, and June 7, of 1906.

1. Take the case of the levitation of a round table. I have so often seen a rather heavy table lifted to a height of eight, twelve, sixteen inches from the floor, and I have taken such undeniably authentic photographs of these; I have so often proved to myself that the suspension of this article of furniture by the imposition upon it of the hands of four or five persons produces the effect of a floating in a tub full of water or other elastic fluid, that, for me, the levitation of objects is no more doubtful than that of a pair of scissors lifted by the aid of a magnet. But one evening when I was almost alone with Eusapia, March 29, 1906 (there were four of us altogether), being desirous of examining at leisure how the thing was done, I asked her to place her hands with mine upon the table, the other persons remaining at a distance. The table very soon rose to a height of fifteen or twenty inches while we were both standing. At the moment of the production of the phenomenon the medium placed one of her hands on one of mine, which she pressed energetically, our two other hands resting side by side. Moreover, on her part, as on mine, there was an act of will expressed in words of command addressed to "the spirit": "Come now! Lift the table! Take courage! Come! Try now!" etc.

We ascertained at once that there were two elements or constituents present. On the one hand, the experimenters address an invisible entity. On the other hand, the medium experiences a nervous and muscular fatigue, and her weight increases in proportion to that of the object lifted (but not in exact proportion).

We are obliged to act as if there really were a being present who is listening. This being appears to come into existence, and then become non-existent as soon as the experiment is ended. It seems to be created by the medium. Is it an auto-suggestion of hers or of the dynamic ensemble of the experimenters that creates a special force? Is it a doubling of her personality? Is it the condensation of a psychic milieu in the midst of which we live? If we seek to obtain proofs of actual and permanent individuality, and above all of the identity of a particular soul called up in our memory, we never obtain any satisfaction. There lies the mystery.

Conclusion: we have here an unknown force of the psychic class, a living force, the life of a moment only.

May it not be possible that, in exerting ourselves, we give rise to a detachment of forces which acts exteriorly to our body? But this is not the place, in these first pages, to make hypotheses.

The experiment of which I have just spoken was repeated three times running, in the full light of a gas chandelier, and under the same conditions of complete proof in each case. A round table weighing about fourteen pounds is lifted by this unknown force. A table of twenty-five or fifty pounds or more requires a greater number of persons. But they will get no result if one at least among them is not gifted with the mediumistic power.

And let me add, on the other hand, that there is in such an experiment so great an expenditure of nervous and muscular energy that such an extraordinary medium as Eusapia, for instance, can obtain scarcely any results six hours, twelve hours, even twenty-four hours, after a séance in which she has so lavishly expended her psychic energy.

I will add that quite often the table continues to rise even after the experimenters have ceased to touch it. This is movement without contact.

This phenomenon of levitation is, to me, absolutely proved, although we cannot explain it. It is like what would happen if one had his hands gloved with loadstone, and, placing them on a table of iron, should lift it from the ground. But the action is not so simple as that: it is a case of psychic activity exterior to ourselves, momentarily in operation.[4]

Now how are these levitations and movements produced?

How is it that a stick of sealing-wax or a lamp-chimney, when rubbed, attracts bits of paper or elder pith?

How is it that a particle of iron grips so firmly to the loadstone when brought near it?

How is it that electricity accumulates in the vapor of water, in the molecules of a cloud, until it gives rise to the thunder, the thunderbolt, the lightning flash, and all their formidable results?

How is it that the thunderbolt strips the clothes from a man or a woman with its characteristic nonchalance?

And (to take a simple instance), without departing from our common and normal condition of life, how is it that we raise our arm?

2. Take now a specimen of another group of cases. The medium places one of her hands upon that of some person, and with the other beats the air, with one, two, three, or four strokes or raps. The raps are heard in the table, and you feel the vibrations at the same time that you hear them,—sharp blows which make you think of electric shocks. It is superfluous to state that the feet of the medium do not touch those of the table, but are kept at a distance from them.

The medium next places her hands with ours upon the table, and the taps heard in the table are stronger than in the preceding case.

Plate I. Complete Levitation of a Table in Professor
Flammarion's Salon through Mediumship
of Eusapia Paladino.

These taps audible in the table, this "typtology" well known to Spiritualists, have been frequently attributed to some kind of trickery or another, to a cracking muscle or to various actions of the medium. After the comparative study I have made of these special occurrences I believe I am right in affirming that this fact also is not less certain than the first. Rappings, as is well known, are obtained in all kinds of rhythms, and responses to all questions are obtained through simple conventions, by which it is agreed, for instance, that three taps shall mean "yes" and two mean "no," and that, while the letters of the alphabet are being read, words can be dictated by taps made as each letter is named.

3. During our experiments, while we four persons are seated around a table asking for a communication which does not arrive, an arm-chair, placed about twenty-four inches from the medium's foot (upon which I have placed my foot to make sure that she cannot use hers),—an arm-chair, I say, begins to move, and comes sliding up to us. I push it back; it returns. It is a stuffed affair (pouf), very heavy, but easily capable of gliding over the floor. This thing happened on the 29th of last March, and again on April 5th.

It could have been done by drawing the chair with a string or by the medium putting her foot sufficiently far out. But it happened over and over again (five or six times), automatically moving, and that so violently that the chair jumped about the floor in a topsy-turvy fashion and ended by falling bottom side up without anybody having touched it.

4. Here is a fourth case re-observed this year, after having been several times verified by me, notably in 1898.

Curtains near the medium, but which it is impossible for her to touch, either with the hand or the foot, swell out their whole length, as if inflated by a gusty wind. I have several times seen them envelop the heads of the spectators as if with cowls of Capuchin monks.

5. Here is a fifth instance, authenticated by me several times, and always with the same care.

While I am holding one hand of Eusapia in mine, and one of my astronomical friends, tutor at the Ecole Polytechnique, is holding the other, we are touched, first one and then the other, upon the side and on the shoulders, as if by an invisible hand.

The medium usually tries to get together her two hands, held separately by each of us, and by a skilful substitution to make us believe we hold both when she has succeeded in disengaging one. This fraud being well known by us, we act the part of forewarned spectators, and are positive that we have each succeeded in holding her hands apart. The touchings in this experiment seem to proceed from an invisible entity and are rather disagreeable. Those which take place in the immediate vicinity of the medium could be due to fraud; but to some of them this explanation is inapplicable.

This is the place to remark that, unfortunately, the extraordinary character of the phenomena is in direct ratio with the absence of light, and we are continually asked by the medium to turn down the gas, almost to the vanishing point: "Meno luce! meno luce!" ("Less light, less light"). This, of course, is advantageous to all kinds of fraud. But it is a condition no more obligatory than the others. There is in it no implication of a threat.

We can get a large number of mediumistic phenomena with a light strong enough for us to distinguish things with certainty. Still, it is a fact that light is unfavorable to the production of phenomena.

This is annoying. Yet we have no right to impose the opposite condition. We have no right to demand of nature conditions which happen to suit us. It would be just as reasonable to try to get a photographic negative without a dark room, or to draw electricity from a rotating machine in the midst of an atmosphere saturated with moisture. Light is a natural agent capable of producing certain effects and of opposing the production of others.

This aphorism calls to my mind an anecdote in the life of Daguerre, related in the first edition of this book.

One evening this illustrious natural philosopher meets an elegant and fashionable woman in the neighborhood of the Opera House, of which he was at that time the decorator. Enthusiastic over his progress in natural philosophy, he happens to speak of his photogenic studies. He tells her of a marvellous discovery by which the features of the face can be fixed upon a plate of silver. The lady, who is a person of plain common sense, courteously laughs in his face. The savant goes on with his story, without being disconcerted. He even adds that it is possible for the phenomenon to take place instantaneously when the processes become perfected. But he has his pains for his trouble. His charming companion is not credulous enough to accept such an extravagance. Paint without colors and without a brush! design without pen or crayon! as if a portrait could get painted all by itself, etc. But the inventor is not discouraged, and, to convince her, offers to make her portrait by this process. The lady is unwilling to be thought a dupe and refuses. But the skilful artist pleads his cause so well that he overcomes her objections. The blond daughter of Eve consents to pose before the object-glass. But she makes one condition,—only one.

Her beauty is at its best in the evening, and she feels a little faded in the garish light of day.

"If you could take me in the evening—"

"But, madame, it is impossible—"

"Why? You say that your invention reproduces the face, feature by feature. I prefer my features of the evening over those of the morning."

"Madame, it is the light itself which pencils the image, and without it I can do nothing."

"We will light a chandelier, a lamp, do anything to please you."

"No, madame, the light of day is imperative."

"Will you please tell me why?"

"Because the light of the sun exhibits an intense activity, sufficient to decompose the iodide of silver. So far, I have not been able to take a photograph except in full sunlight."

Both remained obstinate, the lady maintaining that what could be done at ten o'clock in the morning could also easily be done at ten o'clock in the evening. The inventor affirmed the contrary.

So, then, all you have to do, gentlemen, is to forbid the light to blacken iodine, or order it to blacken lime, and condemn the photographer to develop his negative in full light. Ask Electricity why it will pass instantaneously from one end to the other of an iron wire a thousand miles long and why it refuses to traverse a thread of glass half an inch long. Beg the night-blooming flowers to expand in the day, or those that only bloom in the light not to close at dusk. Give me the explanation of the respiration of plants, diurnal and nocturnal, and of the production of chlorophyll and how plants develop a green color in the light; why they breathe in oxygen and exhale carbonic acid gas during the night, and reverse the process during the day. Change the equivalents of simple substances in chemistry, and order combinations to be produced. Forbid azotic acid to boil at the freezing temperature, and command water to boil at zero. You have only to ask these accommodations and nature will obey you, gentlemen, depend upon it.

A good many phenomena of nature only occur in obscurity. The germs of plants, animals, man, in forming a new being, work their miracle only in the dark.

Here, in a flask, is a mixture of hydrogen and chlorine in equal volumes. If you wish to preserve the mixture, you must keep the flask in the dark, whether you want to or not. Such is the law. As long as it remains in the dark, it will retain its properties. But suppose you take a schoolboy notion to expose the thing to the action of light. Instantly a violent explosion is heard; the hydrogen and the chlorine disappear, and you find in the flask a new substance,—chloridic acid. There is no use in your finding fault: darkness respects the two substances, while light explodes them.

If we should hear a malignant sceptic of some clique or other say, "I will only believe in jack-o'-lanterns when I see them in the light of day," what should we think of his sanity? About what we should think if he should add that the stars are not certainties, since they are only seen at night.

In all the observations and experiments of physics there are conditions to be observed. In those of which we are speaking a too strong light seems to imperil the success of the experiment. But it goes without saying that precautions against deception ought to increase in direct ratio with the decrease of visibility and other means of verification.

Let us return to our experiments.

6. Taps are heard in the table, or it moves, rises, falls back, raps with its leg. A kind of interior movement is produced in the wood, violent enough, sometimes, to break it. The round table I made use of (with others) in my home was dislocated and repaired more than once, and it was by no means the pressure of the hands upon it that could have caused the dislocations. No, there is something more than that in it: there is in the actions of the table the intervention of mind, of which I have already spoken.

The table is questioned, by means of the conventional signs described a few pages back, and it responds. Phrases are rapped out, usually banal and without any literary, scientific, or philosophical value. But, at any rate, words are rapped out, phrases are dictated. These phrases do not come of their own accord, nor is it the medium who taps them—consciously—either with her foot or her hand, or by the aid of a snapping muscle, for we obtain them in séances held without professional mediums and at scientific reunions where the existence of trickery would be a thing of the greatest absurdity. The mind of the medium and that of the experimenters most assuredly have something to do with the mystery. The replies obtained generally tally the intellectual status of the company, as if the intellectual faculties of the persons present were exterior to their brains and were acting in the table wholly unknown to the experimenters themselves. How can this thing be? How can we compose and dictate phrases without knowing it. Sometimes the ideas broached seem to come from a personality unknown to the company, and the hypothesis of spirits quite naturally presents itself. A word is begun; some one thinks he can divine its ending; to save time, he writes it down; the table parries, is agitated, impatient. It is the wrong word; another was being dictated. There is here, then, a psychic element which we are obliged to recognize, whatever its nature may be when analyzed.

The success of experiments does not always depend on the will of the medium. Of course that is the chief element in it; but certain conditions independent of her are necessary. The psychical atmosphere created by the persons present has an influence that cannot be neglected. So the state of health of the medium is not without its influence. If he is fatigued, although he may have the best will in the world, the value of the results will be affected. I had a new proof of this thing, so often observed, at my house, with Eusapia Paladino, on May 30, 1906. She had for more than a month been suffering from a rather painful affection of the eyes; and furthermore her legs were considerably swollen. We were seven, of whom two lookers-on were sceptics. The results were almost nil; namely, the lifting, during scarcely two seconds of time, of a round table weighing about four pounds; the tipping up of one side of a four-legged table; and a few rappings. Still, the medium seemed animated by a real wish to obtain some result. She confessed to me, however, that what had chiefly paralyzed her faculties was the sceptical and sarcastic spirit of one of the two incredulous persons. I knew of the absolute scepticism of this man. It had not been manifested in any way; but Eusapia had at once divined it.

The state of mind of the by-standers, sympathetic or antipathetic, has an influence upon the production of the phenomena. This is an incontestable matter of observation. I am not speaking here merely of a tricky medium rendered powerless to act by a too close critical inspection, but also of a hostile force which may more or less neutralize the sincerest volition. Is it not the same, moreover, in assemblies, large or small, in conferences, in salons, etc.? Do we not often see persons of baleful and antipathetic spirit defeat at their very beginning the accomplishment of the noblest purposes.

Here are the results of another sitting of the same medium held a few days afterwards.

On the 7th of June, 1906, I had been informed by my friend Dr. Ostwalt, the skilled oculist, who was at that time treating Eusapia, that she was to be at his house that evening and that perhaps I would be able to try a new experiment. I accepted with all the more readiness because the mother-in-law of the doctor, Mme. Werner, to whom I had been attached by a friendship of more than thirty years, had been dead a year, and had many a time promised me, in the most formal manner, to appear after her death for the purpose of giving completeness to my psychical researches by a manifestation, if the thing was possible. We had so often conversed on these subjects, and she was so deeply interested in them, that she had renewed her promise very emphatically a few days before her death. And at the same time she made a similar promise to her daughter and to her son-in-law.

Eusapia, also, on her part, grateful for the care she had received at the doctor's hands and for the curing of her eye, wished to be agreeable to him in any way she could.

The conditions, then, were in all respects excellent. I agreed with the doctor that we had before us four possible hypotheses, and that we should seek to fix on the most probable one.

a. What would take place might be due to fraud, conscious or unconscious.

b. The phenomena might be produced by a physical force emanating from the medium.

c. Or by one or several invisible entities making use of this force.

d. Or by Mme. Werner herself.

We had on that evening some movements of the table and a complete lifting of the four feet to a height of about eight inches. Six of us sat around the table,—Eusapia, Madame and Monsieur Ostwalt, their son Pierre, sixteen years old, my wife and myself. Our hands placed above the table scarcely touched it, and were almost wholly detached at the moment it rose from the floor. No fraud possible. Full light.

The séance then continued in the dark. The two portières of a great double-folding door, against which the medium was seated, her back to the door, were blown about for nearly an hour, sometimes so violently as to form something like a monk's hood on the head of the doctor and that of his wife.

This great door was several times shaken violently, and tremendous blows were struck upon it.

We tried to obtain words by means of the alphabet, but without success. (I will remark in this connection that Eusapia knows neither how to read nor to write.)

Pierre Ostwalt was able to write a word with the pencil. It seemed as if an invisible force was guiding his hand. The word he pencilled down was the first name of Mme. Werner, well known to him.

In spite of all our efforts, we were unable to obtain a single proof of identity. Yet it would have been very easy for Mme. Werner to find one, as she had so solemnly promised us to do.

In spite of the announcement by raps that an apparition would appear which we would be permitted to see, we were only able to perceive a dim white form, devoid of precise outline, even when we manipulated the light so as to get almost complete darkness. From this new sitting the following conclusions are deduced:

a. Fraud cannot explain the phenomena, especially the levitation of the table, the violent blows and shakings given to the door, and the projection of the curtain into the room.

b. These phenomena are certainly produced by a force emanating from the medium, for they all occur in her immediate neighborhood.

c. This force is intelligent. But it is possible that this intelligence which obeys our requests is only that of the medium.

d. Nothing proves that the spirit evoked had any influence.

These propositions, however, will be examined and developed one by one in the pages that follow.

All the experiments described in this first chapter reveal to us unknown forces in operation. It will be the same in the chapters that follow.

These phenomena are so unexplained, so inexplicable, so incredible, that the simplest plan is to deny them, to attribute them all to fraud or to hallucination, and to believe that all the participators are sand-blind.

Unfortunately for our opponents, this hypothesis is inadmissible.

Let me say here that there are very few men—and above all, women—whose spirit is completely free; that is, in a condition capable of accepting, without any preconceived idea, new or unexplained facts. In general, people are disposed to admit only those facts or things for which they are prepared by the ideas they have received, cherished, and maintained. Perhaps there is not one human being in a hundred who is capable of making a mental record of a new impression, simply, freely, exactly, with the accuracy of a photographic camera. Absolute independence of judgment is a rare thing among men.

A single fact accurately observed, even if it should contradict all science, is worth more than all the hypotheses.

But only the independent minds, free from the classic leading-strings which tie the dogmatists to their chairs, dare to study extra-scientific facts or consider them possible.

I am acquainted with erudite men of genius, members of the Academy of Sciences, professors at the university, masters in our great schools, who reason in the following way: "Such and such phenomena are impossible because they are in contradiction with the actual state of science. We should only admit what we can explain."

They call that scientific reasoning!

Examples.—Frauenhofer discovers that the solar spectrum is crossed by dark lines. These dark lines could not be explained in his time. Therefore we ought not to believe in them.

Newton discovers that the stars move as if they were governed by an attractive force. This attraction could not be explained in his time. Nor is it explained to-day. Newton himself takes the pains to declare that he does not wish to explain it by an hypothesis. "Hypotheses non fingo" ("I do not make hypotheses"). So, after the reasoning of our pseudo-logicians, we ought not to admit universal gravitation. Oxygen combined with hydrogen forms water. How? We don't know. Hence we ought not to admit the fact.

Stones sometimes fall from the sky. The Academy of Sciences of the eighteenth century, not being able to divine where they came from, simply denied the fact, which had been observed for thousands of years. They denied also that fish and toads can fall from the clouds, because it had not then been observed that waterspouts draw them up by suction and transport them from one place to another. A medium places his hand upon a table and seems actually to transmit to it independent life. It is inexplicable, therefore it is false. Yet that is the predominant method of reasoning of a great number of scholars. They are only willing to admit what is known and explained. They declared that locomotives would not be able to move, or, if they did succeed, railways would introduce no change in social relations; that the transatlantic telegraph would never transmit a despatch; that vaccine would not render immune; and at one time they stoutly maintained (this was long ago) that the earth does not revolve. It seems that they even condemned Galileo. Everything has been denied.

Apropos of facts somewhat similar to those we are here studying,—I mean the stigmata of Louise Lateau,—a very famous German scholar, Professor Virchow, closed his report to the Berlin Academy with this dilemma: Fraud or Miracle. This conclusion acquired a classic vogue. But it was an error, for it is now known that stigmata are due neither to fraud nor miracle.

Another rather common objection is presented by certain persons apparently scientific. Confounding experience with observation, they imagine that a natural phenomenon, in order to be real, ought to be able to be produced at will, as in a laboratory. After this manner of looking at things, an eclipse of the sun would not be a real thing, nor a stroke of lightning which sets fire to a house, nor an aërolite that falls from the sky. An earthquake, a volcanic eruption, are phenomena of observation, not of experiment. But they none the less exist, often to the great damage of the human race. Now, in the order of facts that we are studying here, we can almost never experiment, but only observe, and this reduces considerably the range of the field of study. And, even when we do experiment, the phenomena are not produced at will: certain elements, several of which we have not yet been able to get hold of, intervene to cross, modify, and thwart them, so that for the most part we can only play the rôle of observers. The difference is analogous to that which separates chemistry from astronomy. In chemistry we experiment: in astronomy we observe. But this does not hinder astronomy from being the most exact of the sciences.

Mediumistic phenomena that come directly under the observation, notably those I have described some pages back, have for me the stamp of absolute certainty and incontestability, and amply suffice to prove that unknown physical forces exist outside of the ordinary and established domain of natural philosophy. As a principle, moreover, this is an unimpeachable tenet.[5]

I could adduce still other instances, for example the following:

7. During séance experiments, phantoms often appear,—hands, arms, a head, a bust, an entire human figure. I was a witness of this thing, especially on July 27, 1897, at Montfort-l'Amaury (see [Chapter III]). M. de Fontenay having declared that he perceived an image or spirit over the table, between himself and me (we were sitting face to face, keeping watch over Eusapia, he holding one of her hands, and I the other), and I seeing nothing at all, I asked him to change places with me. And then I, too, perceived this spirit-shadow, the head of a bearded man, rather vaguely outlined, which was moving like a silhouette, advancing and retiring in front of a red lantern placed on a piece of furniture. I had not been able to see at first from where I sat, because the lantern was then behind me, and the spectral appearance was formed between M. de Fontenay and me. As this dark silhouette remained rather vague, I asked if I could not touch its beard. The medium replied, "Stretch out your hand." I then felt upon the back of my hand the brushing of a very soft beard.

This case did not have for me the same absolute certainty as the preceding. There are degrees in the feeling of security we have in observations. In astronomy, even, there are stars at the limit of visibility. And yet in the opinion of all the participators in the séance there was no trick. Besides, on another occasion, at my own home, I saw another figure, that of a young girl, as the reader will see in the [third chapter].

8. That same day, at Montfort, in the course of the conversation, some one recalled the circumstance that the "spirits" have sometimes impressed on paraffin or putty or clay the print of their head or of their hands,—a thing that seems in the last degree absurd. But we bought some putty at a glazier's and fixed up in a wooden box a perfectly soft cake. At the end of the séance there was the imprint of a head, of a face, in this putty. In this case, no more than in the other, am I absolutely certain there was no trickery. We will speak of it farther on.

Other manifestations will be noted in subsequent pages of this book. Stopping right here, for the present, at the special point of view of the proved existence of unknown forces, I will confine myself to the six preceding cases, regarding them as incontestable, in the judgment of any man of good faith or of any observer. If I have considered these particular cases so early in the work, it is in response to readers of my works who have been begging me for a long time to give my personal observations.

The simplest of these manifestations—that of raps, for example—is not a negligible asset. There is no doubt that it is one or another of the experimenters, or their dynamic resultant, that raps in the table without knowing how. So, even if it should be a psychic entity unknown to the mediums, it evidently makes use of them, of their physiological properties. Such a fact is not without scientific interest. The denials of scepticism prove nothing, unless it be that the deniers themselves have not observed the phenomena.

I have no other aim in this first chapter than to give a preliminary summary of the observed facts.

I do not desire to put forth in these first pages any explanatory hypothesis. My readers will themselves form an opinion from the narratives that follow, and the last chapter of the volume will be devoted to theories. Yet I believe it will be useful to call attention at once to the fact that matter is not, in reality, what it appears to be to our vulgar senses,—to our sense of touch, to our vision,—but that it is identical with energy, and is only a manifestation of the movement of invisible and imponderable elements. The universe is a dynamism. Matter is only an appearance. It will be useful for the reader to bear this truth in mind, as it will help him to comprehend the studies we are about to make.

The mysterious forces we are here studying are themselves manifestations of the universal dynamism with which our five senses put us very imperfectly into relation.

These things belong to the psychical order as well as to the physical. They prove that we are living in the midst of an unexplored world, in which the psychic forces play a rôle as yet very imperfectly studied.

We have here a situation analogous to that in which Christopher Columbus found himself on the evening of the day when he perceived the first hints of land in the New World. We are pushing our prow through an absolutely unknown sea.

CHAPTER II

MY FIRST SÉANCES IN THE ALLAN KARDEC GROUP AND WITH THE MEDIUMS OF THAT EPOCH

One day in the month of November, 1861, under the Galeries de l'Odéon,[6] I spied a book, the title of which struck me,—Le Livre des Esprits ("The Book of Spirits"), by Allan Kardec. I bought it and read it with avidity, several chapters seeming to me to agree with the scientific bases of the book I was then writing, The Plurality of Inhabited Worlds. I hunted up the author, who proposed that I should enter, as a free associated member, the Parisian Society for Spiritualistic Studies, which he had founded, and of which he was president. I accepted, and by chance have just found the green ticket signed by him on the fifteenth day of November, 1861. This is the date of my début in psychic studies. I was then nineteen, and for three years had been an astronomical pupil at the Paris Observatory. At this time I was putting the last touches to the book I just mentioned, the first edition of which was published some months afterwards by the printer-publisher of the Observatory.

The members came together every Friday evening in the assembly room of the society, in the little passageway of Sainte Anne, which was placed under the protection of Saint Louis. The president opened the séance by an "invocation to the good spirits." It was admitted, as a principle, that invisible spirits were present there and revealed themselves. After this invocation a certain number of persons, seated at a large table, were besought to abandon themselves to their inspiration and to write. They were called "writing mediums." Their dissertations were afterwards read before an attentive audience. There were no physical experiments of table-turning, or tables moving or speaking. The president, Allan Kardec, said he attached no value to such things. It seemed to him that the instructions communicated by the spirits ought to form the basis of a new doctrine, of a sort of religion.

At the same period, but several years earlier, my illustrious friend Victorien Sardou, who had been an occasional frequenter of the Observatory, had written, as a medium, some curious pages on the inhabitants of the planet Jupiter, and had produced picturesque and surprising designs, having as their aim to represent men and things as they appeared in this giant of worlds. He designed the dwellings of people in Jupiter. One of his sketches showed us the house of Mozart, others the houses of Zoroaster and of Bernard Palissy, who were country neighbors in one of the landscapes of this immense planet. The dwellings are ethereal and of an exquisite lightness. They may be judged of by the two figures here reproduced ([Pl. II and III]). The first represents a residence of Zoroaster, the second "the animals' quarters" belonging to the same. On the grounds are flowers, hammocks, swings, flying creatures, and, below, intelligent animals playing a special kind of ninepins where the fun is not to knock down the pins, but to put a cap on them, as in the cup and ball toy, etc.

These curious drawings prove indubitably that the signature "Bernard Palissy, of Jupiter," is apocryphal and that the hand of Victorien Sardou was not directed by a spirit from that planet. Nor was it the gifted author himself who planned these sketches and executed them in accordance with a definite plan. They were made while he was in the condition of mediumship. A person is not magnetized, nor hypnotized, nor put to sleep in any way while in that state. But the brain is not ignorant of what is taking place: its cells perform their functions, and act (doubtless by a reflex movement) upon the motor nerves. At that time we all thought Jupiter was inhabited by a superior race of beings. The spiritistic communications were the reflex of the general ideas in the air. To-day, with our present knowledge of the planets, we should not imagine anything of the kind about that globe. And, moreover, spiritualistic séances have never taught us anything upon the subject of astronomy. Such results as were attained fail utterly to prove the intervention of spirits. Have the writing mediums given any more convincing proofs of it than these? This is what we shall have to examine in as impartial a way as we can.

I myself tried to see if I, too, could not write. By collecting and concentrating my powers and allowing my hand to be passive and unresistant, I soon found that, after it had traced certain dashes, and o's, and sinuous lines more or less interlaced, very much as a four-year-old child learning to write might do, it finally did actually write words and phrases.

In these meetings of the Parisian Society for Spiritualistic Studies, I wrote for my part, some pages on astronomical subjects signed "Galileo." The communications remained in the possession of the society, and in 1867 Allan Kardec published them under the head General Uranography, in his work entitled Genesis. (I have preserved one of the first copies, with his dedication.) These astronomical pages taught me nothing. So I was not slow in concluding that they were only the echo of what I already knew, and that Galileo had no hand in them. When I wrote the pages, I was in a kind of waking dream. Besides, my hand stopped writing when I began to think of other subjects.

Plate II. House of Zoroastre of Jupiter from
Somnambulistic Drawing by Victorien Sardou.

Plate III. Animals' Quarters. House of Zoroastre of Jupiter from
Somnambulistic Drawing by Victorien Sardou.

I may quote here what I said on this subject in my work, The Worlds of Space (Les Terres du Ciel), in the edition of 1884, p. 181:—

The writing medium is not put to sleep, nor is he magnetized or hypnotized in any way. One is simply received into a circle of determinate ideas. The brain acts (by the mediation of the nervous system) a little differently from what it does in its normal state. The difference is not so great as one might suppose. The chief difference may be described as follows:

In the normal state we think of what we are going to write before the act of writing begins. There is a direct action of the will in causing the pen, the hand, and the fore-arm to move over the paper. In the abnormal state, on the other hand, we do not think before writing; we do not move the hand, but let it remain inert, passive, free; we place it upon the paper, taking care merely that it shall meet with the least possible resistance; we think of a word, a figure, a stroke of the pen, and the hand of its own volition begins to write. But the writing medium must think of what he is doing, not beforehand, but continuously; otherwise the hand stops. For example, try to write the word "ocean," not voluntarily (the ordinary way), but by simply taking a lead-pencil, and letting the hand rest lightly and freely upon the paper, while you think of your word and observe carefully whether the hand will write. Very good; it does begin to move over the paper, writing first an o, then a c, and the rest. At least that was my experience when I was studying the new problems of spiritualism and magnetism.

I have always thought that the circle of science is not a closed one, and that there are many things for us still to learn. In the mediumistic writing experiments it is very easy to deceive ourselves and to believe that the hand is under the influence of another mind than our own. The most probable conclusion regarding these experiences has been that the theory of the action of foreign spirits is not necessary for the explanation of such phenomena. But this is not the place to enter into details upon a subject which, up to the present time, has been only slightly examined by scientific criticism, having more often been exploited by speculators than studied by scientists.

So I wrote in 1884; and I will indorse every word I then wrote, just as it stands.

In these first experiences with Spiritualists, of which I have just been speaking, I soon had the entrée of the chief Parisian circles devoted to these matters, and for a couple of years I even took the position of honorary secretary of one of them. A natural or necessary result of this was that I did not miss a single séance.

Three different methods were employed to receive communications: (1) writing with the hand; (2) the use of the planchette to which a lead-pencil was attached, and on which the hands were placed; and (3) table-rapping (or table-moving), operated by the alphabetic code, these raps or the movements of the table marking the desired letter as the alphabet was read aloud by one of those present.

The first of these methods was the only one employed at the Society for Spiritualistic Studies, of which Allan Kardec was president. It was the one which permitted the margin for the most doubt. In fact, at the end of two years of investigations of this kind, which I had varied as much as possible, and which I had entered upon without any preconceived idea for or against, and with the most ardent desire to arrive at the truth, I came to the positive conclusion that not only are the signatures of these papers not authentic, but that the intervention of another mind from the spirit world is not proved at all, the fact being that we ourselves are the more or less conscious authors of the communications by some cerebral process which yet remains to be investigated. The explanation is not so simple as it seems, and there are certain reservations to be made in the general statement above.

When writing in the exalted and abnormal state of mind of the medium, we do not, as I have just said, form our phrases as in the normal condition; rather we wait for them to be produced. But all the same our own mind mingles in the process. The subject treated follows the lines of our own customary thoughts; the language employed is our native tongue, and, if we are uncertain about the spelling of certain words, errors will appear. Furthermore, so intimately are our own mental processes mingled with what is being written that, if we allow our thoughts to wander to another topic, the hand either stops writing or produces incoherent words and scrawls. This is the mental state of the writing medium,—at least that which I have observed in myself. It is a kind of auto-suggestion. I hasten to add, however, that this opinion only binds me to the extent of my own personal experiences. I am assured that there are mediums who act in an absolutely mechanical way, knowing nothing of the nature of what they are writing (see further on, [pp. 58, 59]), who treat subjects of which they are ignorant, and also even write in foreign languages. Such cases would be different from that of which I have just been speaking, and would indicate either a special cerebral state or great keenness of intellect, or a source of ideas exterior to the medium; i.e., if it were once proved that our mind cannot divine that of which it is ignorant. But now the transference of thought from one brain to another, from one mind to another, is a fact proved by telepathy. We could conceive, then, that a medium might write under the influence of some one near by—or even at a distance. Several mediums have also composed (in successive séances) genuine romances, such as The History of Joan of Arc, Written by Herself, or certain voyages to other planets,—seeming to indicate that there is a kind of doubling of the personality of the subject, a secondary personality. But there is no authentication of this. There is also a psychic milieu, of which I shall speak farther on. At present I must concern myself only with the subject of this chapter, and say with Newton, "Hypotheses non fingo."

Allan Kardec died on the 30th of March, 1869, and, when the Society of Spiritualists came to ask me to deliver a funeral oration at his tomb, I took occasion, during this discourse, to direct the attention of the Spiritualists to the scientific character of investigations of this class and to the manifest danger of allowing ourselves to be drawn into mysticism.

I will reproduce at this point a few paragraphs taken from this address:

I wish I could impress upon you who hear me, as well as upon the millions of men throughout Europe and in the New World who are studying the still mysterious problem of spiritualism, what a deep scientific interest and what a philosophic future there is in the study of these phenomena, to which, as you know, many of our most eminent living scholars have given their time and attention. I wish I could present to your imagination and theirs the new and vast horizons we shall see opening up before us in proportion as we broaden our scientific knowledge of the forces of nature at work around us; and I would that I could show both you and them that such conquests of the mind are the most efficacious antidote to the leprosy of atheism which seems to be particularly the malignant degenerative element in this our epoch of transition.

What a salutary thing it would be could I but prove here, before this eloquent tomb, that the methodical examination of the phenomena erroneously called supernatural, far from calling back the spirit of superstition, and weakening the energy of the reason, serves, on the contrary, to banish the errors and illusions of ignorance, and assists the progress of truth much more than do the irrational negations of those who will not take the trouble to look at the facts.

It is high time now that this complex subject of study should enter upon its scientific period. Enough stress has not been laid upon the physical side of the subject, which should be critically studied; for without rigid scientific experiment no proof is valid. This objective a priori method of investigation, to which we owe the glory of modern progress and the marvels of electricity and steam, should take up the still unexplained and mysterious phenomena with which we are acquainted, to dissect them, measure them, and to define them.

For, gentlemen, spiritualism is not a religion, but a science, a science of which we as yet scarcely know the a, b, c. The age of dogma is past. Nature includes the Universe; and God himself, who was in old times conceived of as a being of similar shape and form as man, cannot be considered by modern metaphysics as other than Mind in Nature.

The supernatural does not exist. The manifestations obtained by the agency of mediums, such as those of magnetism and somnambulism, belong to the order of nature and ought to be inexorably submitted to the test of experiment. There are no more miracles. We are witnessing the dawning of a new science. Who is there so bold as to predict whither the scientific study of the new psychology will lead, and what the results will be?

The limitations of human vision are such that the eye only sees things between narrow bounds, and beyond these limits, on this side and on that, it sees nothing. The body may be compared to a harp of two chords,—the optic nerve and the auditory nerve. One kind of vibrations excites the first and another kind the second. That is the whole story of human sensation, which is even inferior to that of many of the lower animals; certain insects, for example, in whom the nerves of vision and of hearing are more delicate than in man.

Now there are in nature, not two, but ten, a hundred, a thousand kinds of movement or vibration. We learn, then, from physical science, that we are living in the midst of a world invisible to us, and that it is not impossible that there may be living upon the earth a class of beings, also invisible to us, endowed with a wholly different kind of senses, so that there is no way by which they can make themselves known to us, unless they can manifest themselves in acts and ways that can come within the range of our own order of sensations.

In the presence of such truths as these, which have as yet only been barely announced, how absurd and worthless seems mere blind denial! When we compare the little that we know and the narrow limits of our range of perception with the vast extent of the field of knowledge, we can scarcely refrain from the conclusion that we know nothing and that everything yet remains to be known. With what right do we pronounce the word "impossible" in the presence of facts which we prove to be genuine without yet being able to discover their causes?

It is by the scientific study of effects that we arrive at the determination of causes. In the class of investigations which we group under the general head "Spiritualism," FACTS EXIST. But no one understands the method of their production. Their existence, nevertheless, is just as true as the phenomena of electricity.

But, as for understanding them—why, gentlemen, nobody understands biology, physiology, psychology. What is the human body? What is the brain? What is the absolute action of the soul or mind? We do not know. And, neither do we know anything whatever of the essence of electricity or the essence of light. It is prudent, then, to observe with unbiased judgment all such matters as these, and to try to determine their causes, which are perhaps of different kinds and more numerous than has ever been supposed up to the present time.[7]

It will be seen that what I publicly uttered as I stood on the hillock above the grave into which Allan Kardec's coffin had just been lowered differs not at all from the purely scientific program of the present work.

I have just said that there were three methods employed in our spiritistic experiments. I have given my opinion of the first (writing mediums), basing it on my personal observations, and without desiring to weaken other proofs, if there are any. As to the second (planchette), I became familiar with it more especially by the séances of Mme. de Girardin, at the home of Victor Hugo in the Isle of Jersey. It works more independently than the first method; but it is still only a prolongation, as it were, of the hand and the brain. The third method—table-rapping, or typtology; I mean taps in the table—seems to me still more emphatically an extension of the hand and brain, and some forty-five years ago I often made use of this form of experiment.

Rappings made on the floor by one foot of the table, as letters are spelled out, have no special value. The least pressure can produce these see-saw movements. The chief experimenter himself makes the responses, sometimes without suspecting it.

Several persons group themselves about a table, place their hands upon it, and wait for something to happen. At the end of five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, the time depending on the psychic atmosphere[8] and the faculties of the experimenters, raps are heard in the table, or the sitters help in the movements of the table, which seems possessed. Why choose a table? Because it is the only article of furniture around which folks usually sit. Sometimes the table is lifted on one or more of its feet and is gently rocked to and fro. Sometimes it comes up as if glued to the hands placed on it, remaining suspended in the air two, three, five, ten, twenty seconds. Again, it is nailed to the floor with such force that it seems to have double or triple its usual weight. At other times, and usually on demand, it gives forth the sound of a saw, of a hatchet, of a lead-pencil writing, etc. We have here material results coming under direct observation, and they prove irrefragably the existence of an unknown force.

This force is a material force in the psychic class. If we confined our attention to blind senseless movements of one kind or another, in relation only with the volitions of the experimenters, and not capable of being explained by the mere imposition of their hands, we might see proof of the existence of a new unknown force, explicable as a transformation of nervous force, of organic electricity; and that would be much in itself. But the raps made in the table, or by the feet of it, are made in reply to questions asked. Since we know the table is only a piece of wood, when we ask it questions, we are really addressing some mental agent who hears and replies. It was in this class of phenomena that modern Spiritualism took its rise; namely, in the United States, in 1848, when the Fox sisters heard sounds in their chamber,—raps in the walls and in the furniture. Their father, after several months of vexatious investigation, finally had recourse to the traditional theory of ghosts, and, addressing his questions to the wall, demanded some kind of an explanation from the invisible thing therein. This thing responded by conventional taps to the questions asked, and declared that it was the spirit of the former proprietor once assassinated in this his very home. The spirit asked for prayers and the burial of its body. (From this time on the replies were so arranged that one rap in response to a question signified yes, two meant no while three meant an emphatic yes.)

I hasten to remark at once that the tapped replies prove nothing, and could have been made unconsciously by the Fox sisters themselves, whom we can not consider to have been playing a little comedy since the raps produced by them in the walls astounded and overwhelmed them more, indeed, than they did any one else. The hypothesis of jugglery and mystification, dear to certain critics, has not the least application to this case, although I admit that rappings and movements are often produced as practical jokes by waggish persons.

There is, of course, an unseen cause that originates these rappings. Is it within us or outside of us? Is it possible that we might be capable of doubling our personality in some way without knowing it, of acting by mental suggestion, of answering our own questions without suspecting it, of producing material results without being conscious of it? Or does there exist, around and about us, an intelligent medium or atmosphere, a kind of spiritual cosmos? Or, again, is it possible that we are surrounded by invisible non-human beings,—gnomes, spirits, and hobgoblins (there may be an unknown world about us)? Or, finally, is it possible that the spirits of the dead may survive, and wander to and fro, and hold communication with us? All these hypotheses present themselves to our minds, nor have we the scientific absolute right to reject any one of them.

The lifting of a table, the displacement of an object, may be attributed to an unknown force developed by our nervous system or otherwise. At least these movements do not prove the existence of a mind extraneous to that of the subject. But when some one is naming the letters of the alphabet or pointing them out on a sheet of pasteboard, and the table, either by raps in the wood or by levitations, puts together an intelligible sentence, we are forced to attribute this intelligent effect to an intelligent cause. This cause may be the medium himself; and the simplest way is, evidently, to suppose that he himself raps out the letters. But experiments can be arranged in such a way that he cannot possibly do this, even unconsciously. Our first duty is, in reality, to make fraud impossible.

Those who have sufficiently studied the subject know that fraud does not explain what they have observed. To be sure, in fashionable Spiritualistic soirées people sometimes amuse themselves. Especially when the séances take place in the dark, and the alternation of the sexes is provided for so as to "reinforce the fluids," it is not altogether an unheard of thing for the gentlemen to profit by the temptation to temporarily forget the object of the meeting and break the established chain of hands in order to begin another on their own account. The ladies and the young girls like these changes in the program, and scarcely a complaint is heard. On the other hand, apart from fashionable soirées, to which everybody is invited for their amusement, the more serious reunions are frequently no safer; for the medium, who is, in one way or another, an interested person, is anxious to give the most he can—and something to boot.

Upon the leaf of an old note-book of mine which has just turned up, I classed Spiritualistic soirées in the following order, which is doubtless a slightly original one:—

1. Amorous caresses. (A similar reproach was made against the ancient Christian love-feasts or agapes.)

2. Charlatanry of mediums, abusing the credulity of the sitters.

3. Some serious inquirers.

At the time of which I was just now speaking (1861-63) I took part, as secretary, in experiments conducted regularly once a week, in the salon of a well-known medium,—Mlle. Huet, of Mont-Thabor Street. Mediumship was, in a way, her trade, and she had more than once been flagrantly detected in some most remarkable trickery. Accordingly, it may be imagined that she would quite often give the raps herself by hitting the table-legs with her feet. But quite often we also obtained noises of sawing, of planing, of drum-beating, and torrents of rain, which it would have been impossible for her to imitate. Neither could the holding fast of the table to the floor be the work of fraud. As to the levitations of the table, I said awhile ago that, when one of us showed an inclination to resist with his hand the upward movement, he received an impression as if the table were floating on a fluid. Now it is hard to see how the medium could produce this result. Everything took place in broad daylight.

The communications received at the very many séances (several hundred) at which I have been present, both at that time and since, have always shown me that the results were in direct ratio with the cultivation of mind of the participants. I naturally asked a great many questions on astronomy. The replies never taught us anything new whatever; and, to be perfectly loyal to the truth, I must say that if, in these experiments, there are spirits, or beings independent of us in action, they know no more than we do about the other worlds.

A distinguished poet, P. F. Mathieu, was usually present at the reunions at the Mont-Thabor salon, and hence we sometimes obtained very pretty bits of verse, which I am sure he did not himself consciously produce; for, like all of us, he was there to learn. M. Joubert, vice-president of the civil tribunal of Carcassonne, has published a work, entitled Various Fables and Poems, by a Spirit-rapper, which bears on its face evidence that it is but the reflex of his customary thoughts. We had Christian philosophers with us at our reunions. Accordingly, the table dictated to us fine thoughts signed "Pascal," "Fénelon," "Vincent de Paul," and "Sainte Thérèse." One spirit, who signed himself "Balthasar Grimod de la Reynière," dictated funny dissertations on the art of cooking. His specialty was to make the heavy table dance about in all kinds of contortions. Rabelais sometimes appeared, still loving the perfumes of savory viands as of old. Some of the spirits took pleasure in making tours de force in cryptology (secret writing). The following are specimens of these table-rapping communications. The first is from the vulgate version of the Bible, the Gospel of John iii. 8:

"Spiritus ubi vult spirat; et vocem ejus audis, sed nescis unde veniat aut quo vadat. Sic est omnis qui natus est ex spiritu." ("The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth. So is every one that is born of the Spirit.")

"Dear little sister, I am here, and see that you are as good as ever. You are a medium. I will go to you with great happiness. Tell my mother her dear daughter loves her from this world.[9]

"Louisa."

Some one asked one of the spirits if he could indicate by taps the words engraved inside of her ring. The response was:

"I love that one should love me as I love when I love."

A member of the company suspected that the table around which we were sitting might conceal a piece of mechanism for producing the raps. Accordingly, one of the sentences was dictated by raps made in the air.

Here is another series:

"Je suis ung ioyeux compaignon qui vous esmarveilleray avecques mes discours, je ne suis pas ung Esperict matéologien, je vestiray non liripipion et je diray: Beuvez l'eaue de la cave, poy plus, poy moins, serez content.

"Alcofribaz Nazier."

("I am a jollie blade who will astonie you by my speech. I am not a vaine-babbling sperit. I will wear my graduate's hood and saie: Drinke ye water of ye cellar [wine],—no more, no less. Be content.

"Francois Rabelais.")[10]

A rather lively discussion arose upon the subject of this unexpected visit,—and of the language, which some erudite persons present thought not to be pure Rabelaisian. Whereupon the table rapped:

"Bons enfants estes de vous esgousiller à ceste besterie. Mieux vault que beuviez froid que parliez chaud."

"Rabelais."

("Ye're regular babies to bawle yourselves hoarse over this selynesse. It is bettaire to drinke cauld than to speak warme.)

"Liesse et Noël! Monsieur Satan est défun, et de mâle mort. Bien marrys sont les moynes, moynillons, bigotz et cagotz, carmes chaulx et déchaulx, papelards et frocards, mitrez et encapuchonnez: les vécy sans couraige, les Esperictz les ont destrosnez. Plus ne serez roustiz et eschaubouillez ez marmites monachales et roustissoires diaboliques; foin de ces billevesées papales et cléricquales. Dieu est bon, iuste et plein de misérichorde; it dict à ses petits enfancts: aimez-vous les ungs les autres et it pardoint à la repentance. Le grand dyable d'enfer est mort; vive Dieu!"

("Hurrah for a merry life! Maister Satan is dead, dead as a door-nail. The monks and the poor-devil friars are married,—bigots and fanatics, Carmelites shod and unshod, the hypocrites and the cowled fellows, the mitres and the hoods. There they stand trembling in their tracks; the Spirits have dethroned them. Gone are the roastings and soup-makings in the Devil's Dutch ovens and in monastic kettles. A plague of these trashy tales of pope and priest! God is good, just, and full of pity. He says to his little children, 'Love one another'; and he pardons the repentant. The great devil in hell is dead. Hurrah for God!")

Here is still another series:

"Suov ruop erètsym nu sruojuot tnores emêm srueisulp; erdnerpmoc ed simrep erocne sap tse suov en li uq snoitseuq sed ridnoforppa ruop tirpse'l sap retnemruot suov en. Liesnoc nob nu zevius."

"Suov imrap engèr en edrocsid ed tirpse'l siamaj euq."

"Arevèlé suov ueid te serèrf sov imrap sreinred sel zeyos; évelé ares essiaba's iuq iulec éssiaba ares evèlé's iuq iulec."

These sentences must be read backwards, beginning at the end. Some one asked, "Why have you dictated thus?" The reply was:

"In order to give you new and unexpected proofs."

Read backwards, these Russian-like sentences are as follows:

"Celui qui s'élève sera abaissé, celui qui s'abaisse sera élevé; soyez les derniers parmi vos frères et Dieu vous élèvera."

"Que jamais l'esprit de discorde ne règne parmi vous."

"Suivez un bon conseil. Ne vous tourmenter pas l'esprit pour approfondir des questions qu'il ne vous est pas encore permis de comprendre; plusieurs même seront toujours un mystère pour vous."

("Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted! Be the least among your brethren, and God will exalt you."

"Never let the spirit of discord reign among you."

"Follow good counsel. Do not torment your mind in attempting to fathom questions that it is not yet permitted you to comprehend: several of these will always be a mystery to you.")

Here is another of a different kind:

"Acmairsvnoouussevtoeussbaoinmsoentsfbiideenlteosuss."

"Sloeysepzruintissaeinndtieetuesnudrrvaosuessmaairlises."

I asked the meaning of this bizarre and portentous conglomeration of letters. The reply was:

"To conquer your doubts, read by skipping every other letter."

This arrangement using the skipped letters in their turn for the second and fourth lines gives the four following verses:

"Amis, nous vous aimons bien tous,
Car vous êtes bons et fidèles.
Soyez unis en Dieu: sur vous
L'Esprit-Saint étendra ses ailes."
("Friends, we love you all,
For you are good and faithful.
Be united in God: over you
The Holy Spirit will spread his wings.")

This is innocent enough, surely and without any great poetic pretensions. But it must be admitted that this method of dictating is rather difficult.[11]

Some one spoke of human plans. The table dictated as follows:[12]

"When the shining sun scatters the stars, know ye, O mortal men, whether ye will see the evening of that day? And, when the sombre curtains of night are let fall from the sky, can you tell whether you will see the dawn of another morn?"

Another person asked, "What is faith?"

"Faith? 'Tis a blessed field that breeds a superb harvest, and every laborer may therein reap and garner to his heart's content, and carry home his sheaves."

Here are three prose dictations:

"Science is a forest where some are laying out roads, where many lose their way, and where all see the bounds of the forest recede as fast as they go forward."

"God does not illuminate the world with the lightning and the meteors. He guides peacefully in their courses the stars of the night, which fill the sky with their light. So the divine revelations succeed one another in order, reason, and harmony."

"Religion and Friendship are twin companions, who aid us to traverse the painful path of life."

I cannot forego the pleasure of inserting here, at the close of this chapter, a fable, dictated like the others by table-rappings, and sent to me by M. Joubert, vice-president of the civil tribunal of Carcassonne.[13] The sentiment of it may be queried by some; but is not the central principle applicable to all epochs and to all governments: Do not the "arrivistes"[14] belong to all times?

THE KING AND THE PEASANT

A king who had profaned the public liberties, who for twenty years had slaked his thirst in the blood of heretics; awaiting the quiet peace of the hangman in his declining days; decrepit, surfeited with adulterous amours; this king, this haughty monster of whom they had made a great man,—Louis the Fourteenth, in short, if I must name him,—was one day airing under the leafy arches of his vast gardens his Scarron, his infamy and his troubles. The noble band of court flunkeys came along. Each one at once lost at least six inches of his height. Pages, counts, marquises, dukes, princes, marshals, ministers, bowed low before insulting rivals, the creatures of the king. Grave magistrates made their deep reverences, each humbler than a suitor asking for audience. 'Twas pleasant to see how the ribbons, crosses and decorations on their embroidered coats went ever backwards. Always and always that ignoble bowing and scraping and cringing. I should like to wake up some morning an emperor, that I might sting with my whip the backbone of a flatterer. But see! alone, confronting the despot, yet without abasing his head, forging along with slow steps on his own way, modest, clad in coarse homespun garments, comes one who seems a peasant, perhaps a philosopher, and passes by the groups of insolent courtiers. "Oh," cries the king, in great surprise, "why do you alone confront me without bending the knee?" "Sire," said the unknown, "must I be frank? It is because I alone here expect nothing from you."

If we stop to think how these sentences and phrases and different bits of literature were produced, letter by letter, rap by rap, following the alphabet as it was read out, we shall appreciate the difficulty of the thing. The rappings are made either in the interior of the wood of the table (the vibrations of which are perceptible) or in some other piece of furniture, or even in the air. The table, as I have already said, is alive, pregnant with a kind of momentary vitality. Melodies of well-known airs, sounds of sawing and of the workshop, and the report of fusillades can be drawn from it. Sometimes it becomes so light that it floats for a moment in the air, then so heavy that two men can scarcely lift it from the floor or budge it in any way. You must have a distinct picture in your mind of all these manifestations,—often puerile, no doubt, sometimes vulgar and grotesque, yet striking in their method of operation,—if you would accurately understand the phenomena, and realize that you are in the presence of an unknown element which jugglery and prestidigitation cannot explain.

Some folks can move their toes separately and crack the joints. If we should grant that the dictations, by combinations of letters (quoted above), were arranged in advance, learned by heart, and thus rapped, the matter would be simple enough. But this particular faculty is very rare, and it does not explain the noises in the table, the vibrations of which are felt by the hands. Again, one could fancy the medium tapping the table-legs with his foot, and thus constructing such sentences as he pleases. But it would require a wonderful memory in the medium to enable him to remember the precise arrangement of letters (for he has no memorandum before him), and, further, these curious dictations have been secured just the same in select companies where no one would cheat.

As to the theory that the spirits of eminent men are in communication with the experimenters the mere statement of the hypothesis shows its absurdity. Imagine a table-rapper calling up from the vasty deep the spirits of Paul or Saint Augustine, Archimedes or Newton, Pythagoras or Copernicus, Leonardo da Vinci or William Herschel, and receiving their dictations from the interior of a table!

We were speaking, a few pages back, of the séance drawings and descriptions of Jupiter made by Victorien Sardou. This is the proper place to insert a letter written by him to M. Jules Claretie, and published by the latter in Le Temps at the date when that learned Academician was putting on the boards his drama Spiritisme. The letter is here appended:

... As to Spiritualism, I could better tell you verbally in three words what I think of it than I could write here in three pages. You are half right and half wrong. Pardon my freedom of speech. There are two things in Spiritualism,—(1) curious facts, inexplicable in the present state of our knowledge, and yet authenticated; and (2) the folks who explain them.

The facts are real. Those who explain them belong to three categories: there are, first, Spiritualists who are imbecile, ignorant, or mad, the chaps who call up Epaminondas and whom you justly make fun of, or who believe in the intervention of the devil; those, in short, who end in the lunatic asylum in Charenton.

Secundo, there are the charlatans, commencing with D.; impostors of all sorts, prophets, consulting mediums, such as A. K., and tutti quanti.

Finally, there are the scholars and scientists, who think they can explain everything by juggleries, hallucination, and unconscious movements, men like Chevreul and Faraday, who, while they are right about some of the phenomena described to them, and which really are jugglery or hallucination, are yet wrong about the whole series of original facts, which they will not take the trouble to look at, though they are highly important. These men are much to blame; for, by their plea-in-bar against earnest investigators (such as Gasparin, for example) and by their insufficient explanations, they have left Spiritualism to be exploited by charlatans of all kinds, and at the same time authorized serious amateurs to no longer waste their time over these studies.

Last of all, there are observers like myself (there are not many of us) who are incredulous by nature, but who have been obliged to admit, in the long run, that Spiritualism concerns itself with facts which defy any present scientific explication, but who do not despair of seeing them explained some day, and who therefore apply themselves to the study of the facts, and are trying to reduce them to some kind of classification which may later prove to be law. We of this persuasion hold ourselves aloof from every coterie, from every clique, from all the prophets, and, satisfied with the convictions to which we have already attained, are content to see in Spiritualism the dawn of a truth, as yet very obscure, which will some day find its Ampère, as did the magnetic currents, and who grieve to see this truth choked out of existence by a dual foe,—excess of credulous ignorance which believes everything and excess of incredulous science which believes nothing.

We find in our conviction and our conscience the wherewithal to brave the petty martyrdom of ridicule inflicted upon us for the faith we profess, a faith exaggerated and caricatured by the mass of follies people never fail to attribute to us, nor do we deem that the myth in which they dress us up merits even the honor of a refutation.

Similarly, I have never had any desire to prove to anybody whatever that the influence of either Molière or Beaumarchais cannot be detected in my plays. It seems to me that that is more than evident.

Respecting the dwellings of the planet Jupiter, I must ask the good folks who suppose that I am convinced of the real existence of these things whether they are well persuaded that Gulliver believed in "Lilliput,"[15] Campanella in the "City of the Sun," and Sir Thomas More in his "Utopia."

What is true, however, is that the design of which you speak [[Pl. III.]] was made in less than ten hours. As to its origin, I would not give a penny to know about that; but the fact of its production is another matter

V. Sardou.

Scarcely a year passes that mediums do not bring me drawings of plants and animals in the Moon, in Mars, Venus, Jupiter, or certain of the stars. These designs are more or less pretty, and more or less curious. But there is nothing in them that leads us to admit their actual resemblance to real things in other worlds. On the contrary, everything proves that they are the products of imagination, essentially terrestrial, both in look and shape, not even tallying what we know to be the vital possibilities of those worlds. The designers of them are the dupes of illusion. These plants and animal are metamorphoses (sometimes elegantly conceived and drawn) of terrestrial organisms. Perhaps the most curious thing of all is that they have a family resemblance in the manner of their execution, and have stamped on them, in some way or other, the mediumistic hall-mark.

To return to my own experiences. When I took the rôle of writing-medium, I generally produced astronomical or philosophical dissertations signed "Galileo." I will quote but one of them as a sample. It is taken from my notebooks of 1862.

SCIENCE.

The human intellect holds in its powerful grasp the infinite universe of space and time; it has penetrated the inaccessible domain of the Past, sounded the mystery of the unfathomable heavens, and believes that it has explained the riddle of the universe. The objective world has unrolled before the eyes of science its splendid panorama and its magnificent wealth of forms. The studies of man have led him to a knowledge of truth; he has explored the universe, discovered the inexorable reign of law, and the application of the forces that sustain all things. If it has not been permitted to him to see the First Cause face to face, at least he has attained a true mathematical idea of the series of secondary causes.

In this latest century, above all, the experimental a priori method, the only really scientific one, has been put into practice in the natural sciences, and by its aid man has freed himself from the prejudices of the old school of thought, one by one, and from subjective or speculative theories, and confined himself to a careful and intelligent study of the field of observation.

Yes, human science is firmly based and pregnant with possibility, worthy of our homage for its difficult and long-proved past, worthy of our sympathy for its future, big with the promise of useful and profitable discoveries. For nature is henceforth to be a book accessible to the bibliographical researches of the studious, a world open to the investigations of the thinker, a fertile region which the human mind has already visited, and in which we must needs advance boldly, holding in our hand experience as our compass....

An old friend of my terrestrial life recently spoke to me as follows. One of our wanderings had brought us back to the Earth, and we were making a new moral study of this world. My companion remarked that man is to-day familiar with the most abstract laws of mechanics, physics, chemistry, ... that the applications of knowledge to industry are not less remarkable than the deductions of pure science, and that it seems as if the entire universe, wisely studied by man, was to be his royal appanage. As we pursued our journey beyond the bounds of this world, I answered him in the following terms:

"A feeble atom, lost to sight in an imperceptible point of the infinite, man has believed he could embrace in the sweep of his vision the whole expanse of the universe, whereas he can scarcely pass beyond the region he inhabits; he has thought he could study the laws of all nature, and his investigations have scarcely reached the forces in action about him; he has thought he could determine the grandeur of the starry heaven, and he exhausted his powers in the study of a grain of dust. The field of his researches is so small that, once lost to view, the mind seeks in vain to recover it; the human heaven and earth are so small that scarcely has the soul in its flight had time to spread its wings before it has reached the last regions accessible to the observation of man; for the immeasurable Universe surrounds us on all sides, unfolding beyond the limits of our heavens its unknown riches, putting its inconceivable forces into play, and reaching forward into immensity in the splendor of its life.

"And the mere flesh-worm, the miserable mite, blind and wingless, whose wretched existence is passed upon the leaf where it was born, would presume (because forsooth it has taken a few steps upon this leaf shaken in the wind) to have the right to speak of the immense tree to which it belongs, of the forest of which this tree forms a part, and to sagely descant upon the nature of the vegetation developed thereon, of the beings that inhabit it, of the distant sun whose rays bring to it movement and life? In very truth, man is strangely presumptuous to desire to measure infinite greatness by the foot-rule of his infinite littleness.

"Therefore be this truth well impressed on his mind,—if the arid labors of past ages have acquired for him an elementary knowledge of things, if the progress of thought has placed him at the vestibule of knowledge, still he has not yet spelled out more than the first page of the Book, and, like a child, liable to be deceived by every word, far from claiming the right to authoritatively interpret the work, he ought to content himself with humbly studying it, page by page, line by line. Happy, however, those who are able to do this!"

Galileo.

These were my customary thoughts. They are the thoughts of a student of nineteen or twenty who has acquired the habit of thinking. There can be no doubt that they were wholly the product of my own intellect, and that the illustrious Florentine astronomer had nothing whatever to do with them. Besides, this would have been a collaboration to the last degree improbable.

It has been the same with all the communications of the astronomical class: they have not led the science forward a single step. Nor has any obscure, mysterious, or illusive point in history been cleared up by the spirits. We only write that which we know, and even chance has given us nothing. Still, certain unexplained thought-transferences are to be discussed. But they belong to the psychological or human sphere.

In order to reply at once to objections that certain Spiritualists have sent to me apropos of this result of my observations, I will take as an example the case of the satellites of Uranus, since it is the chief one always brought forward as a proof of scientific discoveries imparted by spirits. Furthermore, I received several years ago from divers sources a pressing invitation to examine an article by General Drayson, published in the journal named Light, in 1884, under the title of The Solution of Scientific Problems by Spirits, in which it is asserted that the spirits made known the true orbital movement of the satellites of Uranus. Pressing engagements had always hindered me from making this examination; but the case having been recently promulgated in several Spiritualistic works as decisive, and I being so persistently importuned to discuss it, I believe it will prove of some use if I now examine the case.

To my great regret there is an error in their communication, and the spirits have taught us nothing. Here is one instance, wrongly selected as a demonstration. The Russian writer Aksakof sets it forth in the following terms (Animism and Spiritualism, p. 341):

The case of which we are about to give an account seems to be of such a nature as to settle all objections. It was communicated by Major-General A. W. Drayson and published under the title The Solution of Scientific Problems by Spirits. I append a translation:

"Having received from M. Georges Stock a letter asking me if I could mention, were it only as an instance, that, during the holding of a séance, a spirit had solved one of those scientific problems which have always embarrassed scientists, I have the honor to communicate to you the following circumstance, which I witnessed with my own eyes:

"In 1781 William Herschel discovered the planet Uranus and its satellites. He observed that these satellites, contrary to all the other satellites of the solar system, traversed their orbits from east to west. Sir John Herschel says in his Outlines of Astronomy:

"'The orbits of these satellites present peculiarities altogether unexpected and exceptional, contrary to the general laws which govern the other bodies of the solar system. The planes of their orbits are almost perpendicular to the ecliptic, making an angle of 70° 58',[16] and they travel with a retrograde movement; that is to say, their revolution about the centre of their planet takes place from east to west in place of following the inverse course.'

"When Laplace broached his theory that the sun and all the planets were formed at the expense of a nebulous matter, these satellites were an enigma to him.

"Admiral Smyth mentions in his Celestial Cycle that the movement of these satellites, to the stupefaction of all astronomers, is retrograde, contrary to that of all the other bodies observed up to that time.

"All the astronomical works published before 1860 contain the same reasoning on the subject of the satellites of Uranus. For my part, I did not find any explanation for this peculiarity: to me it was a mystery as much as for the writers whom I have cited.

"In 1858 I had as a guest in my house a lady who was a medium, and we arranged daily séances. One evening she said to me that she saw at my side a spirit who claimed to have been an astronomer during his life on earth.

"I asked this person if he was wiser at present than when he lived on the earth. 'Much wiser,' he said. I had the idea of asking this so-called spirit a question the object of which was to test his knowledge. 'Can you tell me,' I asked him, 'why the satellites of Uranus make their revolution from east to west and not from west to east?' I received at once the following reply:

"'The satellites of Uranus do not move in their orbits from east to west: they circle about their planet from west to east, in the same way that the moon moves around the earth. The error comes from the fact that the south pole of Uranus was turned toward the earth at the moment of the discovery of this planet. In the same way that the sun, seen from our southern hemisphere, seems to run its daily course from right to left and not from left to right, so the satellites of Uranus were moving at that time from left to right, though this does not mean they were moving in their orbit from east to west.'

"In reply to another question which I asked, my interlocutor added: 'As long as the south pole of Uranus was turned toward the earth, in relation to a terrestrial observer, the satellites seemed to move from left to right, and it was erroneously concluded from this that they were going from east to west: this state of things lasted for about forty-two years. When the north pole of Uranus is turned toward the earth, his satellites run their course from right to left, but, in either case, always from the west to the east.'

"I thereupon asked him how it happened that the error had not been detected forty-two years after William Herschel's discovery of Uranus. He replied, 'It is because people repeat that which the authorities who have preceded them have said. Dazzled by the results obtained by their predecessors, they do not take the trouble to think.'"

Such is the "revelation" of a spirit on the system of Uranus, published by Drayson and presented by Aksakof and other authors as an undeniable proof of the intervention of a spirit in the solution of this problem.

The following is the result of an impartial discussion of this very interesting subject. The reasoning of the "spirit" is false. The system of Uranus is almost perpendicular to the plane of its orbit. It is the direct opposite of that of the satellites of Jupiter, which turn almost in the plane of their orbit. The inclination of the plane of the satellites to the ecliptic is 98°, and the planet ascends almost in the plane of the ecliptic. This is a fundamental consideration in the picture which we ought to make to ourselves of the aspect of this system seen from the earth.

Let us, however, adopt for the method of movement of these satellites around their planet the projection upon the plane of the ecliptic, as has always been the custom. The author maintains that, "when the north pole of Uranus is turned toward the earth, his satellites run their course from right to left, that is to say from west to east"; he indorses the communication of the spirit to the effect that the astronomers are in error and that the satellites of Uranus really revolve around their planet from west to east, in the same way that the moon revolves around the earth.

In order to give ourselves an exact account of the position and of the method of the movements of this system, let us construct a special geometrical figure, clear and precise. Let us represent upon a plane the appearance of the orbit of Uranus and of its satellites seen from the northern hemisphere of the celestial sphere (Fig. A). The part of the orbit of the satellites above the plane of the orbit of Uranus has been drawn with heavy lines and hatching, the lower part in dotted lines only.

It is easily seen by the direction of the arrows that the revolution of the satellites, projected upon the plane of the orbit, is entirely retrograde. All dogmatic affirmations to the contrary are absolutely erroneous.

These satellites turn like the hands of a watch,—from left to right, looking at the upper part of the circles.

The error of General Drayson's medium comes from the fact that she maintained that the south pole of Uranus was turned toward us at the date of its discovery. Now, in 1781, the system of Uranus occupied relatively to us almost the same situation as in 1862, since the time of its revolution is eighty-four years. It is evident from the figure that, at that moment, the planet presented to us the pole most elevated above the ecliptic; that is, its north pole.

General Drayson allowed himself to be led into error when he adopted without verification these paradoxical premises. As a matter of fact, if Uranus had presented to us its south pole in 1781, the movement of the satellites would have been direct. But the observations of the angle of position of the orbits at the time of their passage of the nodes gives us abundant evidence that it was really the north pole which was at that moment turned toward the sun and the earth,—a fact which renders direct movement impossible, retrograde movement certain.

Fig. 1—The inclination of the system of Uranus.
Aspects seen from the earth at the four extreme positions.

For greater clearness, I have placed outside of the orbit, in Fig 1, the aspect of the system of Uranus seen from the earth at the four principal epochs of the revolution of this distant planet. It is evident that the apparent method of the revolution was analogous to that of the hands of a watch in 1781 and 1862, the opposite in 1818 and 1902. At these dates the apparent orbits of the satellites are almost circles, while during the passage of the nodes, in 1798, 1840, and 1882, they are reduced to straight lines.

Figure 1a completes these data by presenting the aspect of the orbits and the method of revolution for all the positions of the planet, even down to our own epoch.

I have desired to completely elucidate this question, which is a little technical. To my great regret, the spirits have taught us nothing, and this example, to which so much importance is attached, is seen to be an error.[17]

Aksakof cites, in this same chapter (p. 343), the discovery of the two satellites of Mars, also made by Drayson through a medium, in 1859; that is to say, 18 years before their discovery, in 1877. This discovery, not having been published at the time, remains doubtful. Furthermore, after Kepler had pointed out its probability, this subject of the two satellites of Mars was several times discussed, notably by Swift and Voltaire (see my Popular Astronomy, p. 501). This is not, then, to be set down as an undeniable instance of a discovery made by the spirits.

The immediately foregoing instances are facts actually observed at Spiritualistic séances. I will not treat them under a generalization foreign to their proper setting. They do not prove that, in certain circumstances, thinkers, poets, dreamers, investigators, may not be inspired by influences emanating from others, from loved ones, from departed friends. That is another question, a topic quite apart from experiments which we are giving an account of in this book.

Fig. 1a.—Orbits of the satellites of Uranus as seen from the
earth at different dates since the time of their discovery (1781).

The same author, otherwise generally very judicious, cites several examples of foreign tongues spoken by mediums. I have not been able to verify them, and I am asked not to say here anything but what I am absolutely sure of.

According to my personal observations, these experiments bring us constantly into the presence of ourselves, our own minds. I could cite a thousand examples of this.

One day I received an "aërolite" discovered in a forest in the environs of Etrepagny (Eure). Mme. J. L., who kindly sent it to me, added that she consulted a spirit about its origin and that he replied to her that it came from a star named Golda. Now in the first place there is no star of this name; and, secondly, this is not an aërolite at all, but a piece of slag from an old forge. (See Section 662 of my Inquiry of 1899. The first of these sections, relating to telepathy, have been published in my work The Unknown.)

A lady reader of mine wrote me from Montpellier:

Your conclusions would perhaps diminish the prestige of Spiritualism in the eyes of certain persons. But, as prestige may produce superstition, it is well to clear up matters. For my part, that which you have observed agrees with what I have myself observed. This is the method which I have employed, aided by a friend:

I took a book and, opening it, retained in my mind the number of the right-hand page. Suppose it was 132. I said to the table, which had been put in movement by the little manœuvre ordinarily used, "Does a spirit desire to communicate?"

Reply—"Yes."

Question—"Can you see the book which I have just been looking at?"

Reply—"Yes."

"How many numbers are there on the page that I have been looking at?"

"Three."

"Indicate the number of hundreds."

"One."

"Indicate the value of the tens."

"Three."

"Indicate the value of the units."

"Two."

The amounts indicated in these statements are of course 132. It was enchanting.

Then, taking the closed book and, without opening it, sliding the paper-knife between the pages, I resumed the conversation, and the result with this last method was always inexact.

I frequently repeated this little experience (curious at any rate); and, every time, I had exact replies when I knew them, inexact when I was ignorant of them. (Section 657 of my Inquiry.)

These examples might be multiplied ad infinitum. Everything leads us to think that it is we who are the actors in these experiments. But it is not so simple as one might suppose, and there is something else in it as well as ourselves. Certain unexplained things take place.

In his remarkable work, Intelligence, Taine explains Spiritualistic communications by a sort of unconscious duplication of our mind, as I said above.

The more singular a fact is [he writes[18]] the more instructive it is. In this respect, Spiritualistic manifestations themselves point the way to discoveries by showing us the coexistence at the same moment in the same individual of two thoughts, two wills, two distinct actions, the one conscious, the other unconscious; the latter he attributes to invisible beings. The brain is, then, a theatre on the stage of which several pieces are being played at once, upon several planes, of which only one is not subliminal. Nothing is more worthy of study than this plurality of the me. I have seen a person who, while speaking or singing, writes, without regard to the paper, consecutive sentences and even entire pages, without any knowledge of what she is writing. In my eyes her sincerity is perfect. Now she declares that at the end of a page she has no idea of what she has written on the paper. When she reads it, she is astonished, sometimes alarmed. The handwriting is different from her ordinary handwriting. The movement of the fingers and of the pencil is stiff and seems automatic. The writing always ends with a signature, that of a deceased person, and bears the mark of intimate thoughts, of a secret and inner reserve of ideas which the author would not like to divulge. Certainly there is proof here of a doubling of the me, the coexistence of two parallel and independent trains of thought, of two centres of action, or, if you wish, of two moral persons existing in the same brain, each one doing his work, and each one a different work, the one upon the stage and the other behind the scenes, the second as complete as the first, since, alone and unwitting of the other, it constructs consecutive ideas and fashions connected sentences in which the other has no part.

This hypothesis is admissible, in the light of numerous observations of double consciousness.[19]

It is applicable to a great number of cases, but not in all. It explains automatic writing. But, as it stands, it is necessary to stretch it considerably to make it explain the rappings (for who raps?), and it does not explain at all the levitations of the table, nor the displacement of objects of which I have spoken in the first chapter, and I do not very well see how it can even explain phrases rapped out backwards or by the strange combinations described above. This hypothesis is admitted and developed in a more unqualified way by Dr. Pierre Janet in his work Psychological Automatism. This author is one of those who have created a narrow circle of observation and study, and who not only never emerge from it, but imagine that they have got the whole universe in their circle. In going over this kind of reasoning, one thinks involuntarily of that old quarrel of the two round eyes who saw everything round and of the two square eyes who saw everything square, and of the history of the Big-endians and of the Little-endians of Gulliver's Travels. An hypothesis is worthy of attention when it explains something. Its value does not increase by the attempt to generalize it and make it explain everything: this is to overpass all reasonable limits.

We may admit that the sub-conscious acts of an abnormal personality, temporarily grafted upon our normal personality, explain the greater part of mediumistic writing communications. We can see in these also the evident effects of auto-suggestion. But these psycho-physiological hypotheses do not explain all observations. There is something else.

We all have a tendency to want to explain everything by the actual state of our knowledge. In the face of certain circumstances, we say to-day: "It is suggestion, it is hypnotism, it is this, it is that." Half a century ago we would not have talked in this way, these theories not having yet been invented. People will no longer talk in the same way half a century, a century, hence, for new words will have been invented. But let us not be put off with words; let us not be in such a hurry.

We must know how to explain in what way our thoughts—conscious, unconscious, sub-conscious—can strike blows in a table, move it, lift it. As this question is rather embarrassing, Dr. Pierre Janet treats it as "secondary personality," and is obliged to have recourse to the movements of the toes, to the snapping of the muscles of the fibular tendon, to ventriloquism and the deceptions of unconscious accomplices.[20] This is not a sufficient explanation.

As a matter of fact, we do not understand how our thought, or that of another, can cause raps in a table, by which sentences are formed. But we are obliged to admit it. Let us call it, if you please, "telekinetsis"; but does that get us any farther along?

There has been talk for some years about unconscious facts, about sub-consciousness, subliminal consciousness, etc. I fear that in these things also we are putting ourselves off with words which do not explain things very much.

I intend some day, if the time is given me, to write a special book on Spiritualism, studied from the theoretic and doctrinal point of view, which will form a second volume of my work The Unknown and Psychic Problems, and which has been in preparation since the publication of that work in 1899. Mediumistic communications, dictations received (notably by Victor Hugo, Mme. de Girardin, Eugène Nus, and the Phalansterians), will be the subject of special chapters in this volume,—as well as the problem, otherwise important, of the plurality of existences.

It is not my intention to enlarge in this place upon the aspects of the general question. That which I restrict myself to establishing in this book is that there are in us, about us, unknown forces capable of putting matter in motion, just as our will does. I ought, therefore, to limit myself to material phenomena. The range of that class of investigations is already immense, and the "communications" of which I have just spoken are really outside the limits of this range. But, as this subject and that of psychological experiments are continually overlapping, it was necessary to give a summary of it in this place. Let us return for the present to the material phenomena produced by mediums and to that which I have myself ascertained in my experiences with Eusapia Paladino, who unites them nearly all in her own personality and experiences.

CHAPTER III

MY EXPERIMENTS WITH EUSAPIA PALADINO.

In the earlier pages of this volume some of my later experiments with the Neapolitan medium, Eusapia Paladino, have been described. We shall now revert to the earlier ones.

My first experimental séance with this remarkable medium took place on the 27th of July, 1897. In response to the invitation of an excellent and honorable family,—that of Blech,—the name of which has for a long time been happily associated with modern researches in theosophy, occultism, and psychological studies, I betook myself to Montfort-l'Amaury, to make the personal acquaintance of this medium, whose case had already been studied in several particulars by MM. Lombroso, Charles Richet, Ochorowicz, Aksakof, Schiaparelli, Myers, Lodge, A. De Rochas, Dariex, J. Maxwell, Sabatier, De Watteville, and a great number of other scholars and scientists of high standing. Mme. Paladino's gifts had even been made the subject of a work by Count de Rochas upon The Externalization of Motivity, as well as of innumerable articles in the special reviews.

The impression that results from the reading of all the official reports is not altogether satisfactory, and besides leaves us with our curiosity entirely ungratified. On the other hand, I can say, as I have already had occasion to remark, that, during the last forty years, almost all the celebrated mediums have been present at one time or another in my salon in the avenue l'Observatoire in Paris, and that I have detected them nearly all in trickery. Not that they always deceive: those who affirm this are wrong. But, consciously or unconsciously, they bring with them an element of trouble against which one is obliged to be constantly on guard, and which places the experimenter in conditions diametrically opposed to those of scientific observation.

Apropos of Eusapia I had received from my illustrious colleague, M. Schiaparelli, director of the observatory at Milan, to whom science is indebted for so many important discoveries, a long letter from which I will quote a few passages:

During the autumn of 1892 I was invited by M. Aksakof to be present at a certain number of Spiritualistic séances held under his direction and care, for the purpose of meeting the medium Eusapia Paladino, of Naples. I saw a number of very surprising things, a part of which, to tell the truth, could be explained by very ordinary means. But there are others the production of which I should not know how to explain by the known principles of natural philosophy. I add, without any hesitation, that, if it had been possible to entirely exclude all suspicion of deceit, one would have had to recognize in these facts the beginning of a new science pregnant with consequences of the highest importance. But it must be admitted that these experiments have been made in a manner little calculated to convince impartial judges of their sincerity. Conditions were always imposed that hindered the right comprehension of what was really taking place. When we proposed modifications in the program suited to give to the experiments the stamp of clearness and to furnish evidence that was lacking, the medium invariably declared that, if we did so, the success of the séance would thereby be made impossible. In fine, we did not experiment in the true sense of the word: we were obliged to be content with observing that which occurred under the unfavorable circumstances imposed by the medium. Even when mere observation was pushed a little too far, the phenomena were no longer produced or lost their intensity and their marvellous nature. Nothing is more offensive than these games of hide-and-seek to which we are obliged to submit

All that kind of thing excites distrust. Having passed all my life in the study of nature, which is always sincere in its manifestations and logical in its processes, it is repugnant to me to turn my thoughts to the investigation of a class of truths, which it seems as if a malevolent and disloyal power was hiding from us with an obstinacy the motive of which we cannot comprehend. In such researches it is not sufficient to employ the ordinary methods of natural philosophy, which are infallible, but very limited in their action. We must have recourse to that other critical method, more subject to error, but more audacious and more powerful, of which police officers and examining magistrates make use when they are trying to bring out a truth in the midst of disagreeing witnesses, a part at least of whom have an interest in hiding that truth.

In accordance with these reflections, I cannot say that I am convinced of the reality of the things which are comprised under the ill-chosen name of Spiritualism. But neither do I believe in our right to deny everything; for, in order to have a good basis for denial, it is not sufficient to suspect fraud, it is necessary to prove it. These experiments, which I have found very unsatisfactory, other experimenters of great confidence and of established reputation have been able to make in more favorable circumstances. I have not enough presumption to oppose a dogmatic and unwarranted denial to proofs in which scientists of great critical ability, such as MM. Crookes, Wallace, Richet, Oliver Lodge, have found a solid basis of fact and one worthy their examination, to such an extent that they have given to it years of study. And we should deceive ourselves if we believed that men convinced of the truth of Spiritualism are all fanatics. During the experiments of 1892 I had the pleasure of knowing some of these men. I was obliged to admire their sincere desire to know the truth; and I found, in the case of several of them, philosophic ideas very sensible and very profound, joined to a moral character altogether worthy of esteem.

That is the reason why it is impossible for me to declare that Spiritualism is a ridiculous absurdity. I ought, then, to abstain from pronouncing any opinion whatever: my mental state on this subject may be defined by the word "agnosticism."

I have read with much attention all that the late Professor Zöllner has written on this subject. His explanation has a purely material basis,—that is to say, it is the hypothesis of the objective existence of a fourth dimension of space, an existence which cannot be comprised within the scope of our intuition, but the possibility of which cannot be denied on that ground alone. Once grant the reality of the experiments which he describes, and it is evident that his theory of these things is the most ingenious and probable that can be imagined. According to this theory, mediumistic phenomena would lose their mystic or mystifying character and would pass into the domain of ordinary physics and of physiology. They would lead to a very considerable extension of the sciences, an extension such that their author would deserve to be placed side by side with Galileo and Newton. Unfortunately, these experiences of Zöllner were made with a medium of poor reputation. It is not only the sceptics who doubt the good faith of M. Slade: it is the Spiritualists themselves. M. Aksakof, whose authority is very great in similar matters, told me himself that he had detected him in trickery. You see by this that these theories of Zöllner lose any support they might have derived from the exact demonstration of experiment, at the same time that they remain very beautiful, very ingenious, and quite possible.

Yes, quite possible in spite of everything; in spite of the lack of success that I had when I tried to reproduce them with Eusapia. On the day when we shall be enabled to make, with absolute sincerity, a single one of these experiments, the matter will have made great progress; from the hands of charlatans it will have passed into those of physicists and physiologists.

Such is the communication made to me by M. Schiaparelli. I found his reasoning to be without defect, and it was in a state of mind entirely analogous to his that I arrived at Monfort-l'Amaury (with all the more interest because Slade was one of the mediums of whom I was just now speaking).

Eusapia Paladino was introduced to me. She is a woman of very ordinary appearance, a brunette, her figure a little under the medium height. She was forty-three years old, not at all neurotic, rather stout. She was born on January 21, 1854, in a village of La Pouille; her mother died while giving birth to the child; her father was assassinated eight years afterward, in 1862, by brigands of southern Italy. Eusapia Paladino is her maiden name. She was married at Naples to a merchant of modest means named Raphael Delgaiz, a citizen of Naples. She manages the petty business of the shop, is illiterate, does not know how to either read or write, understands only a little French. I conversed with her, and soon perceived that she has no theories and does not burden herself by trying to explain the phenomena produced by her.

The salon in which we are going to conduct our experiments is a room on the ground floor, rectangular, measuring twenty feet in length by nineteen in breadth; there are four windows, an outside entrance door and another in the vestibule.

Before the sitting, I make sure that the large doors and windows are closely shut by window-blinds with hooks and by wooden blinds on the inside. The door of the vestibule is simply locked with a key.

In an angle of the salon, at the left of the large entrance door, two curtains of a light color have been stretched on a rod, joining in the middle and forming thus a little cabinet. In this cabinet there is a sofa, and leaning against this a guitar; on one side is a chair, on which have been placed a music-box and a bell. In the recess of the window which is included in the cabinet there is a music-rack, upon which has been placed a plate containing a well-smoothed cake of glazier's putty, and under which, on the floor, is a huge tray containing a large smoothed cake of the same. We have prepared these plaques of putty because the annals of Spiritualism have often shown the imprint of hands and of heads produced by the unknown beings whom it is our business in this work to investigate. The large tray weighs about nine pounds.

Why this dark cabinet? The medium declares it is necessary to the production of the phenomena "that relate to the condensation of fluids."

I should prefer that there should be nothing of the kind. But the conditions must be accepted, though we must have an exact understanding about them. Behind the curtain the stillness of the aërial waves is at its maximum, the light at its minimum. It is curious, strange, infinitely regrettable that light prohibits certain effects. Undoubtedly, it would not be either philosophic or scientific to oppose this condition. It is possible that the radiations, the forces, which act may be the rays of the invisible end of the spectrum, I have already had occasion to remark, in the first chapter, that he who would seek to make photographs without a dark chamber would cloud over his plate and obtain nothing. The man who would deny the existence of electricity because he had been unable to obtain a spark in a damp atmosphere would be in error. He who would not believe in the existence of stars because we only see them at night would not be very wise. Modern progress in natural philosophy has taught us that the radiations that impinge on the retina represent only the smallest fraction of the totality. We can then admit the existence of forces which do not act in the full light of day. But, in accepting these conditions, the essential point is not to be their dupe.

Hence, before the séance, I examined carefully the narrow corner of the room before which the curtain was stretched, and I found nothing except the objects mentioned above. Nowhere in the room was there any sign whatever of concealed mechanism, no electric wires or batteries or anything of the kind, either on the floor or in the walls. Moreover, the perfect sincerity of M. and Mme. Blech is beyond all suspicion.

Before the séance, Eusapia was undressed and dressed before Mme. Zelma Blech. Nothing suspicious was found.

The sitting was begun in full light, and I constantly laid stress upon obtaining the largest number of phenomena we could in the full light of day. It was only gradually, according as the "spirit" begged for it, that the light was turned down. But I obtained the concession that the darkness should never be absolute. At the last limit, when the light had to be entirely extinguished, it was replaced by one of the red lanterns used by photographers.

The medium sits before the curtain, turning her back to it. A table is placed before her,—a kitchen table, made of spruce, weighing about fifteen pounds. I examined this table and found nothing in it suspicious. It could be moved about in every direction.

I sit at first on the left of Eusapia, then at her right side. I make sure as far as possible of her hands, her legs, and her feet, by personal control. Thus, for example, to begin with, in order to be sure that she should not lift the table either by her hands or her legs, or her feet, I take her left hand in my left hand, I place my right open hand upon her knees, and I place my right foot upon her left foot. Facing me, M. Guillaume de Fontenay, no more disposed than I to be duped, takes charge of her right hand and her right foot.

There is full light,—a big kerosene lamp with a wide burner and a light yellow shade, besides two lighted candles.

At the end of three minutes the table begins to move, balancing itself, and rising sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left. A minute afterwards it is lifted entirely from the floor, to a height of about nine inches, and remains there two seconds.

In a second trial, I take the two hands of Eusapia in mine. A notable levitation is produced, nearly under the same conditions.

We repeat the same experiments thrice, in such a way that five levitations of the table take place in a quarter of an hour, and for several seconds the four feet are completely lifted from the floor, to the height of about nine inches. During one of the levitations the experimenters did not touch the table at all, but formed the chain above it and in the air; and Eusapia acted in the same way.

So then it seems that an object can be lifted, in opposition to the law of gravity, without the contact of the hands which have just been acting upon it. (Proof already given above, pp. 5-8, 16.)

A round centre table placed at my right comes forward without contact towards the table, always in full light, be it understood, as if it would like to climb up on it, and falls down. Nobody has moved aside or approached the curtain, and no explanation of this movement can be given. The medium has not yet entered into a trance and continues to take part in the conversation.

Five raps in the table indicate, according to a convention arranged by the medium, that the unknown cause asks for less light. This is always annoying: I have already said what I think of this. The candles are blown out, the lamp turned down, but the light is strong enough for us to see very distinctly everything that takes place in the salon. The round table, which I had lifted and set aside, approaches the table and tries several times to climb up on it. I lean upon it in order to keep it down, but I experience an elastic resistance and am unable to do so. The free edge of the round table places itself on the edge of the rectangular table, but, hindered by its triangular foot, it does not succeed in clearing itself sufficiently to climb upon it. Since I am holding the medium, I ascertain that she makes no effort of the kind that would be needed for this style of performance.

The curtain swells out and approaches my face. It is at this moment that the medium falls into a trance. She utters sighs and lamentations and only speaks now in the third person, saying that she is John King, a psychic personality who claims to have been her father in another existence and who calls her "my daughter" (mia figlia). This is an auto-suggestion proving nothing as to the identity of the force.

Five new taps ask for still less light, and the lamp is most completely turned down, but not extinguished. The eyes, growing accustomed to the clare-obscure, still distinguish pretty well what is taking place.

The curtain swells out again, and I feel that I am touched on the shoulder, through the stuff of the curtain, as if by a closed fist. The chair in the cabinet, upon which are placed the music-box and the bell, is violently shaken, and the objects fall to the floor. The medium asks again for less light, and a red photographic lantern is placed upon the piano, the light of the lamp being extinguished. The control is rigorously kept up, the medium agreeing to it with the greatest docility.

For about a minute the music-box plays intermittent airs behind the curtain, as if it was turned by some hand.

The curtain moves forward again toward me, and a rather strong hand seizes my arm. I immediately reach forward to seize the hand, but I grasp only the empty air. I then press the two legs of the medium between mine and I take her left hand in my right. On the other side, her right hand is firmly held in the left hand of M. de Fontenay. Then Eusapia brings the hand of the last named toward my cheek, and imitates upon the cheek, with the finger of M. de Fontenay, the movement of a little revolving crank or handle. The music-box, which has one of these handles, plays at the same time behind the curtain in perfect synchronism. The instant that Eusapia's hand stops, the music stops: all the movements correspond, just as in the Morse telegraphic system. We all amused ourselves with this. The thing was tried several times in succession, and every time the movement of the finger tallied the playing of the music.

I feel several touches in the back and on the side. M. de Fontenay receives a hard slap on the back that everybody hears. A hand passes through my hair. The chair of M. de Fontenay is violently pulled, and a few moments afterwards he cries, "I see the silhouette of a man passing between M. Flammarion and me, above the table, shutting out the red light!"

This thing is repeated several times. I do not myself succeed in seeing this silhouette. I then propose to M. de Fontenay that I take his place, for, in that case, I should be likely to see it also. I soon distinctly perceive a dim silhouette passing before the red lantern, but I do not recognize any precise form. It is only an opaque shadow (the profile of a man) which advances as far as the light and retires.

In a moment, Eusapia says there is some one behind the curtain. After a slight pause she adds:

"There is a man by my side, on the right: he has a great soft forked beard." I ask if I may touch this beard. In fact, while lifting my hand, I feel a rather soft beard brushing against it.

A block of paper is put on the table with a lead-pencil, with the hope of getting writing. This pencil is flipped clear across the room. I then take the block of paper and hold it in the air: it is snatched violently from me, in spite of all my efforts to retain it. At this moment, M. de Fontenay, with his back turned to the light, sees a hand (a white hand and not a shadow), the arm showing as far as the elbow, holding the block of paper; but all the others declare that they only see the paper shaking in the air.

I did not see the hand snatch the packet of paper from me; but only a hand could have been able to seize it with such violence, and this did not appear to be the hand of the medium, for I held her right hand in my left, and the paper with arm extended in my right hand, and M. de Fontenay declared that he did not let go of her left hand.

I was struck several times in the side, touched on the head, and my ear was smartly pinched. I declare that after several repetitions I had enough of this ear pinching; but during the whole séance, in spite of my protestations, somebody kept hitting me.

The little round table, placed outside of the cabinet, at the left of the medium, approaches the table, climbs clear up on it and lies across it. The guitar in the cabinet is heard moving about and giving out sounds. The curtain is puffed out, and the guitar is brought upon the table, resting upon the shoulder of M. de Fontenay. It is then laid upon the table, the large end toward the medium. Then it rises and moves over the heads of the company without touching them. It gives forth several sounds. The phenomenon lasts about fifteen seconds. It can readily be seen that the guitar is floating in the air, and the reflection of the red lamp glides over its shining surface. A rather bright gleam, pear-shaped, is seen on the ceiling in the other corner of the room.

The medium, who is tired, asks for rest. The candles are lighted. Mme. Blech returns the objects to their places, ascertains that the cakes of putty are intact, places the smallest upon the little round table and the large one upon the chair in the cabinet, behind the medium. The sitting is resumed by the feeble glimmer of the red lantern.

The medium, whose hands and feet are carefully controlled by M. de Fontenay and myself, breathes heavily. Above her head the snapping of fingers is heard. She still pants, groans, and sinks her fingers into my hand. Three raps are heard. She cries, "It is done" ("E fatto"). M. de Fontenay brings the little dish beneath the light of the red lantern and discovers the impression of four fingers in the putty, in the position which they had taken when she gripped my hand.

Seats are taken, the medium asks for rest, and a little light is turned on.

The sitting is soon resumed as before, by the extremely feeble light of the red lantern. John is spoken of as if he existed, as if it was he whose head we perceived in silhouette; he is asked to continue his manifestations, and to show the impression of his head in the putty, as he has already several times done. Eusapia replies that it is a difficult thing and asks us not to think of it for a moment, but to go on speaking. These suggestions of hers are always disquieting, and we redouble our attention, though without speaking much. The medium pants, groans, writhes. The chair in the cabinet on which the putty is placed is heard to move. The chair comes forward and places itself by the side of the medium, then it is lifted and placed upon the head of Mme. Z. Blech, while the tray is lightly placed in the hands of M. Blech, at the other end of the table. Eusapia cries that she sees before her a head and a bust, and says, "E fatto" ("It is done"). We do not believe her, because M. Blech has not felt any pressure on the dish. Three violent blows as of a mallet are struck upon the table. The light is turned on, and a human profile is found imprinted upon the putty.

Mme. Z. Blech kisses Eusapia upon both cheeks, for the purpose of finding out whether her face has not some odor (glazier's putty having a very strong odor of linseed oil which remains for some time upon the fingers). She discovers nothing abnormal.

This discovery of a "spirit head" in the putty is so astonishing, so impossible to admit without sufficient verification, that it is really still more incredible than all the rest. It is not the head of the man whose profile I perceived, and the beard I felt on my hand is not there. The imprint has a resemblance to Eusapia's face. If we supposed she produced it herself, that she was able to bury her nose up to the cheeks and up to the eyes in that thick putty, we should still have to explain how that large and heavy tray was transported from the other end of the table and gently placed in the hands of M. Blech.

The resemblance of the imprint to Eusapia was undeniable. I reproduce both the print and the portrait of the medium.[21] Every one can assure himself of it. The simplest thing, evidently, is to suppose the Italian woman imprinted her face in the putty.

But how?

We are in the dark as to this, or nearly so. I sit at the right hand of Eusapia, who rests her head upon my left shoulder, and whose right hand I am holding. M. de Fontenay is at her left, and has taken great care not to let go of the other hand. The tray of putty, weighing nine pounds, has been placed upon a chair, twenty inches behind the curtain, consequently behind Eusapia. She cannot touch it without turning around, and we have her entirely in our power, our feet on hers. Now the chair upon which was the tray of putty has drawn aside the hangings, or portières, and moved forward to a point above the head of the medium, who remained seated and held down by us; moved itself also over our heads,—the chair to rest upon the head of my neighbor, Mme. Blech, and the tray to rest softly in the hands of M. Blech, who is sitting at the end of the table. At this moment Eusapia rises, declaring that she sees upon the table another table and a bust, and cries out, "E fatto" ("It is done"). It was not at this time, surely, that she would have been able to place her face upon the cake, for it was at the other end of the table. Nor was it before this, for it would have been necessary to take the chair in one hand and the cake with the other, and she did not stir from her place. The explanation, as can be seen, is very difficult indeed.

Let us admit, however, that the fact is so extraordinary that a doubt remains in our mind, because the medium rose from her chair almost at the critical moment. And yet her face was immediately kissed by Mme. Blech, who perceived no odor of the putty.

Plate IV. Plaster Cast of Imprint Made in Putty
without Contact by the Medium Eusapia Paladino.

Plate V. Eusapia Paladino, Showing Resemblance
to the Imprint in Putty.

Dr. Ochorowicz writes as follows apropos of these prints of faces and of the study which he made of them at Rome:[22]

The imprint of this face was obtained in darkness, yet at a moment when I held the two hands of Eusapia, while my arms were entirely around her. Or, rather, it was she who clung to me in such a way that I had accurate knowledge of the position of all her limbs. Her head rested against mine, and even with violence. At the moment of the production of the phenomenon a convulsive trembling shook her whole body, and the pressure of her head on my temples was so intense that it hurt me.

At the moment when the strongest convulsion took place, she cried, "Ah, che dura!" ("Oh, how severe!") We at once lighted a candle and found a print, rather poor in comparison with those which other experimenters have obtained,—a thing due, perhaps, to the bad quality of the clay which I used. This clay was placed about twenty inches to the right of the medium, while her head was inclined to the left. Her face was not at all soiled by the clay, which was yet so moist as to leave traces upon the fingers when touched. Moreover, the contact of her head with mine made me suffer so much that I am absolutely sure it was not intermitted for a single moment. Eusapia was very happy when she saw a verification made under conditions in which it was impossible to suspect her good faith.

I then took the tray of clay, and we passed into the dining-room in order to better examine the imprint, which I placed on a large table near a big kerosene lamp. Eusapia, who had fallen into a trance, remained for some moments standing, her hands resting upon the table, motionless and as if unconscious. I did not lose sight of her, and she looked at me without seeing anything. Then, with an uncertain step, she moved backward toward the door and passed slowly into the chamber which we had just left. We followed her, observing her all the while, and leaving the clay behind upon the table. We had already got into the chamber when, leaning against one of the halves of the double door, she fixed her eyes upon the tray of clay which had been left upon the table. The medium was in a very good light: we were separated from her by a distance of from six to ten feet, and we perceived distinctly all the details. All of a sudden Eusapia stretched her hand out abruptly toward the clay, then sank down uttering a groan. We rushed precipitately towards the table and saw, side by side with the imprint of the head, a new imprint, very marked, of a hand which had been thus produced under the very light of the lamp, and which resembled the hand of Eusapia. I have, myself, obtained head prints a dozen times, but always rather poor, owing to the quality of the clay, and often broken while the experiment was going on.

The Chevalier Chiaia, of Naples, who first obtained these fantastic pictures through the agency of Eusapia, wrote as follows, in this connection, to Count de Rochas:

I have imprints in boxes of clay weighing anywhere between fifty-five and sixty-five pounds. I mention the weight in order to let you see the impossibility of lifting and transporting with one hand alone so heavy a tray, even upon the supposition that Eusapia might, unknown to us, free one of her hands. In almost every case, in fact, this tray, placed upon a chair three feet behind the medium, was brought forward and placed very gently upon the table about which we were seated. The transfer was made with such nicety that the persons who formed the chain and held firmly the hands of Eusapia did not hear the least noise, did not perceive the least rustling. We were forewarned of the arrival of the tray upon the table by seven taps, which, according to our conventional arrangement, John struck in the wall to inform us that we could turn on the light. I did so at once by turning the cock of the gas-fixture which was suspended above the table. (We had never completely extinguished it.) We then found the tray upon the table, and, upon the clay, the imprint which we supposed must have been made before its transfer, and while it was behind Eusapia, in the cabinet where John usually materializes and manifests himself.

The totality of these observations (which are very numerous) leads us to the thought that, in spite of the improbability of the thing, these imprints are produced at a distance by the medium.

However, some days after the séance at Montfort-l'Amaury I wrote as follows:

These different manifestations are not to me equally authentic. I am not sure of all of them, for the phenomena were not all produced under the same conditions of certainty. I should wish to class the facts in the following order of decreasing certainty:

1. Levitations of the table.

2. Movements of the round table without contact.

3. Mallet blows.

4. Movements of the curtain.

5. Opaque silhouette passing before the red lamp.

6. Sensation of a beard upon the back of the hand.

7. Touchings.

8. Snatching of the block of paper.

9. Throwing of the lead-pencil.

10. Transference of the round table to the top of the other table.

11. Music from the little box.

12. Transfer of the guitar to a point above the head.

13. Imprints of a hand and of a face.

The first four events, having taken place in full light, are incontestable. I should put almost in the same rank Nos. 5 and 6. No. 7 may perhaps be due very often to fraud. The last in the list, having been produced toward the end of the séance, at a time when attention was necessarily relaxed, and being still more extraordinary than all the others, I confess that I cannot admit it with certainty, although I can not understand how it could have been due to fraud. The four others seem genuine; but I should like to observe them anew; a man could wager ninety-nine to one hundred that they are true. I was absolutely sure of them during the séance. But the vividness of the impressions grows weak, and we have a tendency to listen only to the voice of plain common sense,—the most reasonable and the most deceptive of our faculties.

The first impression we get upon the reading of these reports is that these different manifestations are rather vulgar, altogether banal, and do not tell us anything about the other world—or about other worlds. Surely it does not seem probable that any spiritual being would take part in such performances. For these phenomena are of an absolutely material class.

On the other hand, however, it is impossible not to recognize the existence of unknown forces. The simple fact, for example, of the levitation of a table to a height of six and one-half, eight, sixteen inches from the floor is not banal at all. It seems to me, speaking for myself alone, so extraordinary that my opinion is very well expressed when I say that I do not dare to admit it without having seen it myself, with my own eyes: I mean that which is called seeing, in full light and under such conditions that it would be impossible to suspect. While we are very sure that we have proved it, we are at the same time sure that in such experiments there emanates from the human body a force that may be compared with the magnetism of the loadstone, able to act upon wood, upon matter (somewhat as the loadstone acts upon iron), and counterbalancing for some moments the action of gravity. From the scientific point of view, that is a weighty fact in itself. I am absolutely certain that the medium did not lift that weight of fifteen pounds either by her hands or by her legs, or by her feet, and, furthermore, no one of the company was able to do it. The table was lifted by its upper surface. We are, therefore, certainly in the presence of an unknown force here which emanates from the persons present, and above all from the medium.

A rather curious observation ought to be made here. Several times during the course of this séance, and during the levitation of the table, I said, "There is no spirit." Every time I said this two violent blows of protestation were struck in the table. I have already remarked that, generally, we are supposed to admit the Spiritualistic hypothesis and to ask a spirit to exert himself in order that we may obtain the phenomena. We have here a psychological matter not without importance. Still, it does not seem to me, for all that, to prove the real existence of spirits, for it might happen that this idea was necessary to the concentration of the forces present and had a purely subjective value. Religious zealots who believe in the efficacy of prayer are the dupes of their own imagination; and yet no one can doubt that certain of these petitions appear to have been granted by a beneficent deity. The Italian or Spanish girl who goes to beg of the Virgin Mary that she will punish her lover for an infidelity may be sincere, and never suspects the strangeness of her request. In dreams we all converse every night with imaginary beings. But there is something more here: the medium really duplicates herself.

I take the point of view solely of the physicist whose business is to observe, and I say, whatever may be the explanatory hypothesis you may adopt, there exists an invisible force derived from the organism of the medium, and having the power to emerge from him and to act outside of him.

That is the fact: what is the best hypothesis to explain it? 1. Is it the medium who herself acts, in an unconscious manner, by means of an invisible force emanating from her? 2. Is it an intelligent cause apart from her, a soul that has already lived upon this earth, who draws from the medium a force which it needs in order to act? 3. Is it another kind of invisible beings? Nothing authorizes us to affirm that there may not exist, side by side with us, living, invisible forces. There you have three very different hypotheses, none of which seems to me, as far as my personal experience goes, to be as yet conclusively proved.

But there certainly emanates from the medium an invisible force; and the participants, by forming the psychic chain and by uniting their sympathetic wills, increase this force. This force is not immaterial. It may be a substance, an agent emitting radiations of wave-lengths which make no impression on our retina, and which are nevertheless very powerful. In the absence of light rays it is able to condense itself, take shape, affect even a certain resemblance to the human body, to act as do our organs, to violently strike a table, or touch us.

It acts as if it were an independent being. But this independence does not really exist; for this transitory being is intimately connected with the organism of the medium, and its apparent existence ceases when the conditions of its production themselves cease.

While writing these monstrous scientific heresies, I feel very deeply that it is difficult to accept them. Still, after all, who can trace the limits of science? We have all learned, especially during the last quarter of a century, that our knowledge is not a very colossal affair, and that, apart from astronomy, there is as yet no exact science founded upon absolute principles. And then, when all is said, there are the facts to be explained. Doubtless it is easier to deny them. But it is not decent or civil. He who has merely failed to find what satisfies him has no right to deny. The best he can do is simply to say, "I know nothing about it."

The fact is that, as yet, we have not elementary data enough to enable us to characterize these forces; but we ought not to lay the blame upon those who study them.

To sum up, I believe that I am able to go a little farther than M. Schiaparelli and affirm the certain existence of unknown forces capable of moving matter and of counterbalancing the action of gravity. There is a complex totality, as yet difficult to disentangle, of psychic and physical forces. But such facts, however extravagant they may appear, are worthy of coming within the sphere of scientific observation. It is even probable that they tend powerfully to elucidate the problem (a matter of supreme importance to us) of the nature of the human soul.

After the end of that séance of the 27th of July, 1897, as I desired to see again the levitation of a table in full light, the chain was formed standing, the hands lightly placed upon the table. The latter began to oscillate, then rose up to a height of nine inches from the floor, remained there several seconds (all the participators remaining on their feet), and fell heavily back again.[23]

Plate VI

Photograph of the Table Resting on the Floor.

Photograph of the Same Table Raised to a Height of
Twenty-five Centimetres. Made by M. G. de Fontenay.

M. G. de Fontenay succeeded in getting several photographs by the magnesium light. I reproduce two of them here ([Pl. VI.]). There are five experimenters who are, from left to right, M. Blech, Mme. Z. Blech, Eusapia, myself, Mlle. Blech. In the first photograph the table rests upon the floor. In the second it floats in air, coming up as high as the arms, at a height of about ten inches on the left and eight inches on the right. I hold my right foot resting upon Eusapia's feet and my right hand upon her knees. With my left hand I hold her left hand. The hands of all the others are upon the table. It is therefore altogether impossible for her to employ any muscular action. This photographic record confirms that of [Pl. I.], and it seems to me difficult not to recognize its undeniable documentary value.[24]

After this séance my most ardent desire was to see the same experiments reproduced at my own house. In spite of all the care I took with my observations, several objections can be taken to the absolute certainty of the phenomena. The most important arises from the existence of the little dark cabinet. Personally, I was sure of the perfect probity of the honorable Blech family, and I am unable to accept the idea of any trickery whatever on the part of any of its members. But the opinion of readers of the formal report may not be so well assured. It was not impossible that, even unknown to the members of the family, some one, with the connivance of the medium, glided into the room, favored by the dim light, and produced the phenomena. An accomplice entirely clothed in black and walking barefoot would have been able to hold the instruments up in the air, put them in movement, make the touches, and cause the black mask to move at the end of a rod, etc.

This objection could be verified or quashed by renewing the experiments at my house, in a room of my own, where I should be absolutely certain that no confederate could enter. I should myself arrange the curtain, I should place the chairs, I should be certain that Eusapia would come alone to my apartments, she would be asked to undress and dress in the presence of two lady examiners, and every supposition of fraud alien to her proper personality would thus be annihilated.

At this epoch (1898) I was preparing, for l'Annales politiques et litteraires, some articles upon psychic phenomena, which, revised and amplified, afterwards formed my work, The Unknown. The eminent and sympathetic editor of the review showed himself assiduous in examining with me the best means of realizing this scheme of personal experiences. Upon our invitation, Eusapia came to Paris to pass the month of November, 1898, and to devote eight soirées especially to us—namely, the 10th, 12th, 14th, 16th, 19th, 21st, 25th, and 28th of November. We had invited several friends to be present. Each one of these séances was the subject of a formal report by several of those who were present, notably by MM. Charles Richet, A. de Rochas, Victorien Sardou, Jules Claretie, Adolphe Brisson, Réne Baschet, Arthur Lévy, Gustave Le Bon, Jules Bois, Gaston Méry, G. Delanne, G. de Fontenay, G. Armelin, André Bloch, etc.

We met in my salon in the avenue de l'Observatoire, in Paris. There were no special arrangements, except the stretching of two curtains in one corner, before the angle of two walls, thus forming a kind of triangular cabinet, the walls about which are there unbroken, without door or window. The front of the cabinet was closed by these two curtains, reaching from the ceiling to the floor and meeting in the middle.

It is before this kind of cabinet that the reader will please imagine the medium to be seated, with a white wooden table (kitchen table) before her.

Behind the curtain, upon the plinth of the projection of a bookcase and upon a table, we placed a guitar, also a violin, a tambourine, an accordion, a music-box, cushions, and several small objects, which were to be shaken, seized, thrown about by the unknown force.

The first result of these séances in Paris, at my house, was absolutely to establish the fact that the hypothesis of a confederate is inadmissible and ought to be entirely eliminated. Eusapia acts alone.

The fifth séance led me, moreover, to think that the phenomena take place (at least a certain number) when the hands of Eusapia are closely held by two controllers, that it is not generally with her hands that she acts, in spite of certain possible trickeries; for it would be necessary to admit (an abominable heresy!) that a third hand could be formed in organic connection with her body!

Before every séance Eusapia was undressed and dressed again in the presence of two ladies charged with seeing that she did not hide any tricking apparatus under her clothes.

It would be a little long to go thoroughly into the details of these eight sittings, and it would be partly to go over what has already been described and commented upon in the first chapter, as well as in the preceding pages. But it will not be uninteresting to give here the estimate of several of the sitters, by reproducing some of the reports.

I will begin with that of M. Arthur Lévy, because he describes very fully the installation, the impression produced upon him by a medium, and the greater part of the facts observed.

Report of M. Arthur Lévy

(Séance of November 16)

That which I am going to relate I saw yesterday at your house. I saw it with distrust, closely observing all that might have resembled trickery; and, after I had seen it, I found it so far beyond the things that we are accustomed to conceive that I still ask myself if I really saw it. Yet I must confess that I have not been dreaming.

When I arrived at your salon, I found the furniture and all the other arrangements as usual. On entering, only a single change could be remarked at the left, where two thick curtains of gray and green rep concealed a little corner. Eusapia was to perform her wonders before this kind of alcove. This was the mysterious corner: I examined it very minutely. It had in it a little round uncovered table, a tambourine, a violin, an accordion, castanets, and one or two cushions. After this precautionary visit, I was certain that in this place at least there was no preparation, and that no communication with the outside was possible.

I hasten to say that from this moment up to the end of the experiments we did not leave the room for a single minute, and that, so to speak, we had our eyes constantly fixed upon this corner, the curtains of which, however, were always partly open.

Some moments after my examination of the cabinet Eusapia arrives,—the famous Eusapia. As almost always happens, she looks quite different from what I had anticipated. Where I had expected to see—I do not well know why, indeed—a tall thin woman with a fixed look, piercing eyes, with bony hands, and abrupt movements, agitated by nerves incessantly trembling under perpetual tension, I find a woman in the forties, rather plump, with a tranquil air, soft hand, simple in her manners, and slightly shrinking. Altogether, she has the air of an excellent woman of the people. Yet two things arrest the attention when you look at her. First, her large eyes, filled with strange fire, sparkle in their orbits, or, again, seem filled with swift gleams of phosphorescent fire, sometimes bluish, sometimes golden. If I did not fear that the metaphor was too easy when it concerns a Neapolitan woman, I should say that her eyes appear like the glowing lava fires of Vesuvius, seen from a distance in a dark night.

The other peculiarity is a mouth with strange contours. We do not know whether it expresses amusement, suffering, or scorn. These peculiarities impress themselves on the mind almost simultaneously, without our knowing on which one to fix the attention. Perhaps we should find in these features of her face an indication of forces which are acting in her, and of which she is not altogether the mistress.

She takes a seat, enters into all the commonplaces of the conversation, speaking in a gentle, melodious voice, like many women of her country. She uses a language difficult for herself and not less difficult for others, for it is neither French nor Italian. She makes painful efforts to make herself understood, and sometimes does this by mimicry (or sign-language) and by willing to obtain that which she wants. However, a persistent irritation of the throat, like a pressure of blood returning at short intervals, forces her to cough, to ask for water. I confess that these paroxysms, in which her face became deeply flushed, caused me great anxiety. Were we going to have the inevitable indisposition of the rare tenor, on the day when he was to be heard on the stage? Happily, nothing of the kind took place. It was rather a sign of the contrary, and seemed like a forerunner of the extreme excitement which was going to take possession of her on that evening. In fact, it is very remarkable that from the moment when she put herself—how shall I say it?—in condition for work, the cough, the irritation of the throat, completely disappeared.

When her fingers were placed on black wool,—to be frank, upon the trousers cloth of one of the company,—Eusapia called our attention to the kind of diaphanous marks made upon them (the fingers), a distorted, elongated second contour. She tells us that that is a sign that she is going to be given great power to-day.

While we are talking some one puts a letter-weigher on the table. Putting her hands down on each side of the letter-weigher, and at a distance of four inches, she causes the needle to move to No. 35 engraved on the dial plate of the weigher. Eusapia herself asked us to convince ourselves, by inspection, that she did not have a hair leading from one hand to the other, and with which she could fraudulently press upon the tray of the letter-weigher. This little by-play took place when all the lamps of the salon were fully lighted. Then commenced the main series of experiments.

We sit around a rectangular table of white wood, the common kitchen table. There are six of us. Close to the curtains, at one of the narrow ends of the table, sits Eusapia; at her left, also near the curtains, is M. Georges Mathieu, an agricultural engineer at the observatory in Juvisy; next comes my wife; M. Flammarion is at the other end, facing Eusapia; then Mme. Flammarion; finally myself. I am thus placed at the right hand of Eusapia, and also against the curtain. M. Mathieu and myself each hold a hand of the medium resting upon his knee, and, furthermore, Eusapia places one of her feet upon ours. Consequently, no movements of her legs or arms can escape our attention. Note well, therefore, that this woman has the use only of her head and of her bust, which latter is of course without the use of the arms, and is in absolute contact with our shoulders.

We rest our hands on the table. In a few moments it begins to oscillate, stands on one foot, strikes the floor, rears up, rises wholly into the air,—sometimes twelve inches, sometimes eight inches, from the ground. Eusapia utters a sharp cry, resembling a cry of joy, of deliverance; the curtain behind her swells out, and, all inflated as it is, comes forward upon the table. Other raps are heard in the table, and simultaneously in the floor at a distance of about ten feet from us. All this in full light.

Already excited, Eusapia asks in a supplicating voice and broken words that we lessen the lights. She cannot endure the dazzling glare in her eyes. She affirms that she is tortured, wants us to hurry; "for," she adds, "you shall see fine things." After one of us has placed the lamp on the floor behind the piano, in the corner opposite the place where we are (at a distance of about twenty-three feet), Eusapia no longer sees the light and is satisfied; but we can distinguish faces and hands. Let it not be forgotten that M. Mathieu and I each have a foot of the medium on ours, and that we are holding her hands and knees, that we are pressing against her shoulders.

The table is always shaking and makes sudden jolts. Eusapia calls to us to look. Above her head appears a hand. It is a small hand, like that of a little girl of fifteen years, the palm forward, the fingers joined, the thumb projecting. The color of this hand is livid; its form is not rigid, nor is it fluid; one would say rather that it is the hand of a big doll stuffed with bran.

When the hand moves back from the brighter light, as it disappears,—is it an optical illusion?—it seems to lose its shape, as if the fingers were being broken, beginning with the thumb.

M. Mathieu is violently pushed by a force acting from behind the curtain. A strong hand presses against him, he says. His chair is also pushed. Something pulls his hair. While he is complaining of the violence used upon him, we hear the sound of the tambourine, which is then quickly thrown upon the table. Next the violin arrives in the same manner, and we hear its strings sound. I seize the tambourine and ask the Invisible if he wishes to take it. I feel a hand grasping the instrument. I am not willing to let it go. A struggle now ensues between myself and a force which I judge to be considerable. In the tussle a violent effort pushes the tambourine into my hand, and the cymbals penetrate the flesh. I feel a sharp pang, and a good deal of blood flows. I let go of the handle. I just now ascertain, by the light, that I have a deep gash under the right thumb nearly an inch long. The table continues to shake, to strike the floor with redoubled strokes, and the accordion is thrown upon the table. I seize it by its lower half and ask the Invisible if he can pull it out by the other end so as to make it play. The curtain comes forward, and the bellows of the accordion is methodically moved back and forth, its keys are touched, and several different notes are heard.

Eusapia utters repeated cries, a kind of rattling in the throat. She writhes nervously, and, as if she were calling for help, cries, "La catena! la catena!" ("The chain! the chain!"). We thereupon form the chain by taking hold of hands. Then, just as if she was defying some monster, she turns, with inflamed looks, toward an enormous divan, which thereupon marches up to us. She looks at it with a satanic smile. Finally she blows upon the divan, which goes immediately back to its place.

Eusapia, faint and depressed, remains relatively calm. Yet she is dejected; her breast heaves violently; she lays her head on my shoulder.

M. Mathieu, tired of the blows which he is constantly receiving, asks to change places with some one. I agree to this. He changes with Mme. F., who then sits at the right of Eusapia, while I am at her left. Mme. F. and I never cease to hold the feet, hands, and knees of the medium. M. F. sets a water bottle and a glass in the middle of the table. The latter's brisk, jolting movements overturn the water bottle, and the water is spilled over its surface. The medium imperatively requires that the liquid be wiped up; the water upon the table blinds her, tortures, paralyzes her, she says. M. F. asks the Invisible if he can pour water into the glass. After some moments the curtain advances, the carafe is grasped, and the glass seems to be half full. That takes place several different times.

Mme. F., being no longer able to endure the blows given her through the curtain, exchanges seats with her husband.

I put my repeating watch upon the table. I ask the Invisible if he can sound the alarm. (The mechanism of the alarm is very difficult to understand, delicate to operate, even for me, doing it every day. It is formed by a little tube cut in two, one half of which glides smoothly over the other. In reality, there is only a projection of one-fiftieth of an inch of thickness of tube, upon which it is necessary to press with the finger-nail and give quite a push in order to start up the alarm.) In a moment the watch is taken by the "spirit." We hear the stem-winder turning. The watch comes back upon the table without having been sounded.

Another request is made for the alarm to sound. The watch is again taken; the case is heard to open and shut. (Now I cannot open this case with my hands: I have to pry it open with a tool like a lever.) The watch comes back once more without having sounded.

I confess that I experienced a disenchantment. I felt that I was going to doubt the extent of the occult power, which had, nevertheless, manifested itself very clearly. Why could it not sound the alarm of this watch? In making my request, had I overstepped the limits of its powers? Was I going to be the cause of all the well-proved phenomena of which we have had testimony losing the half of their value? I said aloud:

"Am I to show how the alarm is operated?"

"No, no!" Eusapia warmly replies, "it will do it."

I will note here that at the moment when I proposed to point out the mechanism, there passed through my mind the method of pressing upon the little tube. Immediately the watch was brought back to the table; and, very distinctly, three separate times, we heard it sound a quarter to eleven.

Eusapia was evidently very tired; her burning hands seemed to contract or shrivel; she gasped aloud with heaving breast, her foot kept quitting mine every moment, scraping the floor and tediously rubbing along it back and forth. She uttered hoarse panting cries, shrugging up her shoulders and sneering; the sofa came forward when she looked at it, then recoiled before her breath; all the instruments were thrown pell-mell upon the table; the tambourine rose almost to the height of the ceiling; the cushions took part in the sport, overturning everything on the table; M. M. was thrown from his chair. This chair—a heavy dining-room chair of black walnut, with stuffed seat—rose into the air, came up on the table with a great clatter, then was pushed off.

Eusapia seems shrunken together and is very much affected. We pity her. We ask her to stop. "No, no!" she cries. She rises, we with her; the table leaves the floor, rises to a height of twenty-four inches, then comes clattering down.

Eusapia sinks prostrated into a chair. We sit there troubled, amazed, in consternation, with a tense and constricted feeling in the head, as if the atmosphere were charged with electricity.

With many precautions, M. F. succeeds in calming the agitation of Eusapia. After about a quarter of an hour she returns to herself. When the lamps are again lighted, she is seen to be very much changed, her eye dull, her face apparently diminished to half its usual size. In her trembling hands she feels the pricking of needles which she asks us to pull out. Little by little she completely recovers her senses. She appears to remember nothing, not to comprehend at all our expressions of wonder. All that is as foreign to her as if she had not been present at the sitting. She isn't interested in it. So far as she is concerned, it would seem as if we were speaking of things of which she had not the faintest idea.

What have we seen? mystery of mysteries!

We took every precaution not to be the dupes of complicity, of fraud. Superhuman forces acting near us, so near that we heard the very breathing of a living being,—if living being it were,—such are the things our eyes took cognizance of for two mortal hours.

And when, on looking back, doubts begin to creep into the mind, we must conclude that, given the conditions in which we were, the chicanery necessary to produce such effects would be at least as phenomenal as the effects themselves.

How shall we name the mystery?

So much for the report of M. Arthur Lévy. I have no commentary to make at present upon these reports of my fellow-experimenters. The essential thing, it seems to me, is to leave to every one his own exposition and his personal judgment. I shall proceed in the same way with the other reports which are to follow. I shall reproduce the principal ones. In spite of some inevitable repetitions, they will surely be read with extreme interest, especially when we take into consideration the high intellectual standing of the observers.

Report of M. Adolphe Brisson.

(Séance of November 10)

(There were present at this séance, besides the hosts of the occasion, M. Prof. Richet, M. and Mme. Ad. Brisson, Mme. Fourton, M. André Bloch, M. Georges Mathieu.)

The following are occurrences which I personally observed with the greatest care. I did not once cease to hold in my right hand the left hand of Eusapia or fail to feel that we were in contact. The contact was only interrupted twice,—at the moment when Dr. Richet felt a pricking in his arm. Eusapia's hand, making violent movements, escaped from my grasp; but I seized it again after two or three seconds.

1. After this sitting had begun,—that is, at the end of about ten minutes,—the table was lifted up away from Eusapia, two of its legs leaving the floor simultaneously.

2. Five minutes later the curtain swelled out as if it had been inflated by a strong breeze. My hand, never letting go of that of Eusapia, pressed gently against the curtain, and I experienced a resistance, just as if I had pressed against the sail of a ship bellied out by the wind.

3. Not only was the curtain puffed out, forming a big pocket, but the perpendicular edge of the curtain that touched the window moved automatically aside and drew back as if it were pushed by an invisible curtain holder, making nearly this kind of a movement.

4. The curtain, inflated anew, took the form of a nose or of an eagle's beak, projecting above the table about eight or ten inches. This shape was visible for several seconds.

5. We heard behind the curtain the noise of a chair rolling over the floor; by a first push it arrived as far as I was; a second push turned it upside down, its feet in the air, in the position shown. It was a heavy stuffed chair. Succeeding pushes moved it again, lifted it up, and made it turn somersaults; it finally came to a standstill almost in the place where it had fallen over.

6. We heard the noise of two or three objects falling to the floor (I mean objects behind the curtain upon the centre-table). The curtain parted in the middle, and in the dim light the little violin appeared. Sustained in the air by an invisible hand, it came gently forward above our table, whence it settled down upon my hand and upon that of my neighbor on the left.[25]

On two separate occasions the violin rose from the table and at once fell back again, making a vigorous leap, like a fish flopping upon the sand. Then it glided down to the floor, where it remained motionless until the end of the sitting.

7. A new rolling noise was heard behind the curtain. This time it was the centre-table. A preliminary effort, quite vigorous, enabled it to rise half-way to the top of our table. By a second effort it got clear on top and rested upon my fore-arm.

8. Several times I distinctly felt light blows upon my right side, as if made with the point of a sharp instrument. But the truth compels me to declare that these blows were no longer given after Eusapia's feet were held under the table by M. Bloch. I note this correlation of things without drawing from it any presumption against Eusapia's loyalty. I have so much the less reason to suspect her in that her left foot did not leave my right foot during the whole sitting.

Report of M. Victorien Sardou

(Séance of November 19)

(There were present at this séance, besides the hosts of the evening, M. V. Sardou, M. and Mme. Brisson, M. A. de Rochas, M. Prof. Richet, M. G. de Fontenay, M. Gaston Méry, Mme. Fourton, M. and Mlle. des Varennes).

I shall only relate here phenomena controlled by myself personally in the séance of last Saturday. Consequently, I say nothing of the arrangement of the apartment, of the experimenters, nor of the events which were first produced in the dark and which all the participants were able to authenticate,—such as cracking sounds in the table, levitations, displacements of the table, raps, etc., as well as the blowing out of the curtain over the table, the bringing on of the violin, of the tambourine, and so forth.

Eusapia having invited me to take the place at her side which had been vacated by M. Brisson, I sat down on her left, while you preserved your place on her right. I took her left hand in my right hand, while my left hand placed upon the table was in contact with that of my neighbor, the medium insisting on this several times in order that the chain might not be broken. Her left foot rested upon my right foot. All through the experiment I never let go her hand for a single second. She grasped my hand with a strong pressure, and it followed her through all her movements. In the same way her foot always kept in contact with mine. My foot always kept touch with hers in all her foot scrapings on the floor, her shiftings of place, shrinkings, twitchings, etc., which never had anything suspicious in them, nor were they of such a nature as to explain the events which took place at my side, behind me, around me, and upon me.

In the first place, and in less than a minute after I had been placed on the left of the medium, the curtain nearest to me was puffed out and brushed against me, as if impelled by a gust of wind. Then three times I felt upon my right side a pressure which lasted but for a moment, yet was very marked. At that moment we were in a very dim light, yet enough to make the faces and the hands of all who were present distinctly visible. After Eusapia's violent nervous contractions, struggles, and energetic pushes (precisely like those which I had seen in similar cases elsewhere and which only astonish those who have slightly studied these phenomena), suddenly the curtain nearest to me was blown forward with an astonishing propulsive power between Eusapia and me, in the direction of the table, entirely concealing from me the face of the medium; and the violin, which, with the tambourine, had, before my introduction, been replaced in the dark chamber, was hurled to the middle of the table, as if by an invisible arm. To accomplish this, the arm must have lifted the curtain and drawn it along with it.

After this the curtain returned to its first position, but not completely; for it still remained puffed out a little between Eusapia and me, one of its folds remaining upon the edge of the table at my side.

Then you took the violin and held it out at such a distance from the two curtains that it was wholly visible to the company; and you invited the occult agent to take it.

This was done, the mysterious agent taking it back with him into the dark closet, with as much good will as he had shown in bringing it on.

The violin then fell upon the floor behind the curtains, or portières. One of these which was nearest to me resumed its vertical position, and for a time I heard upon my right upon the floor behind the curtains a kind of scrimmage between the violin and the tambourine, which were displaced, pulled about, and lifted, clashing and resounding at a great rate; and yet it was impossible to attribute any of these manifestations to Eusapia, whose foot never moved, but remained firmly pressed against my own.

A little after, I felt against my right leg, behind the curtain, the rubbing of a hard body which was trying to climb upon me, and I thought it was the violin. And so it was, in fact; and, after an unsuccessful effort to climb higher than my knee, this apparently living creature fell with a bang upon the floor.

Almost immediately I felt a new pressure upon my right hip, and mentioned the circumstance. You disengaged your left hand from the chain, and, turning toward me, twice made in the air the gesture of the director of an orchestra moving his bâton to and fro. And each time, with perfect precision, I felt upon my side the repercussion of a blow exactly tallying your gesture, which reached me after the delay of a second more or less, and which seemed to me to correspond exactly to the time necessary for the transference of a billiard ball or a tennis ball from you to me.

Some one, Dr. Richet, I believe, having spoken at that time of strokes upon the shoulders of the sitters in which the action and shape of a human hand was very marked, I will mention as a proof of his remark that I received in succession three blows upon the left shoulder (that is to say, the one most distant from the curtain and from the medium), more violent than the preceding ones; and this time the heavy pressure of the five fingers was very evident. Then a last blow with the flat of the hand, applied in the small of the back, without hurting me at all, was strong enough to make me lean forward, in spite of myself, toward the table.

Some moments after, my chair, moving under me, glided over the floor, and was shifted in such a way as to leave my back turned a little in the direction of the dark closet.

I leave to other witnesses the task of telling the results of their personal observations,—how, for example, the violin, having been picked up by you from the floor and replaced upon the table, was held out by Mme. Brisson, as you had already done, and lifted up in the same way in the sight of all, while I held the left hand of Eusapia, you her right hand, and with the hand which remained free you pressed the wrist of her left hand.

Nor do I say anything of a hand-pressure through the opening in the curtain, having seen nothing of this myself.

But that which I did see very well indeed was the sudden appearance of three very vivid little lights between my neighbor and myself. They were promptly extinguished and seemed like a kind of will-o'-the-wisp, similar to electric sparks coming and going with great rapidity.

In short, I can only repeat here what I have said during the course of these experiments, "If I had not been convinced forty years ago, I should be this evening."

Report of M. Jules Claretie.

(Séance of November 25)

(There were present at this sitting, in addition to the hosts of the occasion, M. Jules Claretie and his son, M. Brisson, M. Louis Vignon, Mme. Fourton, Mme. Gagneur, M. G. Delanne, M. René Baschet, M. and Mme. Basilewska, M. Mairet, photographer.)

I note only the impressions I received after the moment when Eusapia, who had taken my hand at the time when M. Brisson was still seated by her, asked me to replace him. I am certain that I did not let go of Eusapia's hand during all the experiments. Every moment I felt the pressure of her foot upon mine, the heel being especially perceptible. I do not believe that I relaxed my fingers for a moment, nor released the hand that I held. I was struck with the throbbing of the arteries at the end of Eusapia's fingers: the blood bounded feverishly through them.

I sat next the curtain. It goes without saying that it was drawn from right to left or from left to right just as it happened. That which I can't understand is that it could swell out until it floated over the table like a sail inflated by the wind.

I felt at first a little light blow on my right side. Then, through the curtain, two fingers seized me and pinched my cheek. The pressure of the two fingers was evident. A blow more violent than the first hit me on the right shoulder, as if it came from a hard, square body. My chair was twice moved and turned, first backward, then forward.

Those two fingers which pinched my cheek I had already felt—before I took my place at Eusapia's side—when I was holding over against the curtain the little white book which M. Flammarion had given me. This book was seized by two naked fingers (I say naked, because the folds of the curtain did not cover them) and then disappeared. I did not see these fingers: I touched them, or they touched me, if you will. My son held out and handed over also a leather cigar-holder, which was grabbed in the same way.

One of the persons present saw a rather heavy little music-box disappear in the same way.

With hardly a moment's delay the box was removed from our side with some violence; and I can speak with the more feeling of the force of the projection and of the weight of the object, because it struck me under the eye, and this morning I still have upon my face the only too visible mark of it, and feel the pain of it. I don't understand how a woman seated by my side could have the strength to throw with such force a box which, so to speak, should have come from quite a distance.

I observe, however, that all the phenomena are produced on the same side of the curtain; namely, behind it, or through it, if you will. I saw leafy branches fall upon the table, but they came from the side of the said curtain. Some persons assert that they saw a green twig come in through the open window which gives upon Cassini Street. But I did not see that.

There was a little round table behind the curtain, very near me. Eusapia takes my hand and places it, held in hers, upon the round table. I feel this table shaking, moving. At a given moment I believe that I perceive two hands near by and upon mine. I am not deceived; but this second hand is that of M. Flammarion, who, on his side, is holding the hand of the medium. The round table bestirs itself. It leaves the floor, it rises. I have the feeling of this at once. Then, the curtain having lifted and, as it were, spread itself over the table, I can distinctly see what passes behind it. The round table moves; it rises; it falls.

Suddenly tipping partly over, it rises and comes toward me, upon me. It is no longer vertical, but is caught between the table and me in a horizontal position. It comes with sufficient force to make me recoil, draw in my shoulders, and try to push back my chair to let this moving piece of furniture pass. It seems, like a living thing, to struggle between the table and me. Or, again, it seems like an animated being struggling against an obstacle, desiring to pass or move on and not being able to do so, being stopped by the table or by myself. At a given moment the round table is upon my knees, and it moves, it struggles (I repeat the word), without my being able to explain to myself what force is moving it.

This force is a formidable one. The little table literally pushes me back, and in vain I throw myself backward to let it pass.

Some of those present, M. Baschet among others, have said to me that at this moment it was upon two fingers. Two fingers of Eusapia push up the round table![26]

But I, who had not lost my hold on her left hand nor her foot,—I, who had by me the little round table (quite visible in the semi-obscurity to which we had accustomed ourselves), saw nothing, nor did I perceive any effort on the part of Eusapia.

I should like to have seen luminous phenomena produced, visions of brilliant lights, of sudden gleams of fire. M. Flammarion hoped that we were going to see some of these. He asked for them. But Eusapia was evidently fatigued by this long and very interesting séance. She asked for "un poco di luce" ("a little light"). The lamps were relighted. Everything was finished.

This morning I recall with a kind of anxious curiosity the least details of this very fascinating soirée. When we had returned to the observatory, on leaving our amiable hosts, I asked myself if I had been in a dream. But I said to myself, "We were present at the skilful performances of a woman prestidigitator; we witnessed only theatrical tricks." My son recalled to me the prodigies of skill of the brothers Isola. This morning, strange to say, reflection makes me at once more perplexed and less incredulous. We perhaps witnessed (we undoubtedly did witness) the manifestation of an unknown force which will hereafter be studied and perhaps one day utilized. I should no longer dare to deny the genuineness of Spiritualism. It isn't a question of animal magnetism: it is something else, I know not what; a quid divinum (a divine something), although science will some day analyze it and catalogue it. That which perhaps astonished me the most was the curtain swelling out like a sail! Where did the puff of wind come from? A regular breeze would have been needed to put such life into it as that. However, I do not discuss: I give in my evidence. I have seen these things, observed them carefully. I shall think of them for a long time. I do not stop here. I shall seek an explanation. Possibly I shall find one. But this much is certain, that we ought to be modest in the presence of all that appears to us to be for the moment inexplicable, and that, before affirming or denying, we ought to wait, to reserve our judgment.

In the mean time, while feeling of my right maxillary tooth, which is a little sore, I think of that line of Regnard and allow myself to mangle it a little while recalling that hard music-box,—

"Je vois que c'est un corps et non pas un esprit."
(I see that it is a body and not a spirit.)

Report of Dr. Gustave Le Bon

(Séance of November 28)

(There were present at this séance, besides the hosts, M. and Mme. Brisson, MM. Gustave Le Bon, Baschet, de Sergines, Louis Vignon, Laurent, Ed. de Rothschild, Delanne, Bloch, Mathieu, Ephrussi, Mme. la Comtesse de Chevigné, Mmes. Gagneur, Syamour, Fourton, Basilewska, Bisschofsheim.)

Eusapia is undoubtedly a marvellous subject. It struck me as something wonderful that, while I was holding her hand, she was playing on an imaginary tambourine to which the sounds of the tambourine that was behind the curtain accurately corresponded.

I do not see how any trick is possible in such a case, any more than in the case of the table.

My cigarette-holder was grasped by a very strong hand, which wrenched the object from me with a good deal of energy. I was on my guard and asked to see the experiment again. The phenomenon was so singular and so beyond all that we can comprehend that we must first try natural explanations.

1. It is impossible that it could have been Eusapia. I was holding one of her hands and was looking at the other arm, and I placed my cigarette-holder in such a position that, even with her two arms free, she would not have been able to accomplish such a marvellous thing.

2. It is not probable that it could have been an accomplice; but is it not possible that the unconscious mind of Eusapia suggested to the unconscious mind of a person near the curtain to pass a hand behind it and operate there? Everybody would be acting in good faith and would have been deceived by the unconscious element. This important point ought to be verified, for no experiment would be so valuable if it were once demonstrated.

Could not Eusapia's departure be put off? We shall not have a similar opportunity, and we surely ought to clear up that phenomenon of the hand.

It is very evident that the table was lifted; but that is a material phenomenon which one can readily grant. The hand which came to seize my cigarette-holder performed an act of the will implying an intelligence, but the other is nothing of the kind. Eusapia might lift a table to the height of three feet without my scientific conception of the world being changed by it; but to bring in the intervention of a spirit, that would be to prove the existence of spirits, and you see the consequences.

As for the hand which seized the cigarette-case, it is absolutely certain that it was not that of Eusapia (you know that I am very sceptical and that I was looking about me); but close to the curtain, in the salon, there were a good many people, and several times you heard me ask people to stand aside from the curtain. If we two had been able to study Eusapia absolutely alone, in a room to which we had the key, the problem would soon be solved.

I have not been able to make this verification, the sitting at which Dr. Le Bon was present having been the last which Eusapia had consented to give at my house. But his objection is of no value. I am absolutely certain that nobody glided behind the curtain, neither in this particular case nor in any other. My wife, also, particularly occupied herself in observing what took place in that part of the room and never was able to discover anything suspicious. There is only one hypothesis; that is, that Eusapia herself handled the objects. Since Dr. Le Bon declares that the thing was impossible, he himself personally inspecting it, we are compelled to admit the existence of an unknown psychic force.[27]

Report of M. Armelin

(Séance of November 21)

(For this sitting I had asked three members of the Astronomical Society of France to exercise the severest control possible; namely, M. Antoniadi, my assistant astronomer at the observatory of Juvisy, M. Mathieu, agricultural engineer at the same observatory, and M. Armelin, secretary of the Astronomical Society. The last-named gentleman sent me the following report. There were also present M. and Mme. Brisson, M. Baschet, M. Jules Bois, Mme. Fourton, Mme. La Comtesse de Labadye.)

At quarter of ten Eusapia takes her seat, her back to the place where the two curtains meet, her hands resting upon the table. At the invitation of M. Flammarion, M. Mathieu takes his seat at her right, charged with the duty of keeping constant watch upon her left hand, and M. Antoniadi is enjoined to do the same for her right hand. They also make themselves sure of her feet. At the right of M. Mathieu sits Mme. la Comtesse de Labadye; on the left of M. Antoniadi, Mme. Fourton. Facing Eusapia, between Mmes. de Labadye and Fourton, MM. Flammarion, Brisson, Baschet, and Jules Bois.

The gas chandelier is lighted and the full light turned on. This chandelier is almost over the table. A little lamp with a shade is placed on the floor behind an easy-chair, near the opposite side of the room, in the direction of its greatest length, and to the left of the fireplace.

At five minutes of ten the table is lifted from the side opposite to the medium and falls back with a bang.

At ten o'clock it rises from the side of the medium, who withdraws her hands, the other persons holding their hands lifted up. The same effect is produced three times. The second time, while the table is in the air, M. Antoniadi declares that he is leaning on it with all his weight and is unable to lower it. The third time, M. Mathieu leans on it in the same way and experiences the same resistance. During this time, Eusapia holds her closed fist about four inches above the table, looking as if she were strongly grasping something. The action lasts several seconds. There is no doubt whatever about this levitation. When the table falls back, Eusapia experiences something like a relaxation after a great effort.

At 10.03 the table is lifted clean off its four feet at once, at first on the side opposite to the medium, rising about eight inches; then it falls abruptly back. While it is in the air, Eusapia calls her two neighbors to witness that they are closely holding her hands and her feet, and that she is not in contact with the table.

Then light raps are heard in the table. Eusapia makes M. Antoniadi lift his hand about eight inches above the table and taps three times upon his hand with her fingers. The three taps are heard simultaneously in the table.

To prove that she is not using either her hands or her feet, she sits down sidewise upon her chair on the left, stretches out her legs, and puts her feet on the edge of the chair of M. Antoniadi: she is in full view and her hands are held. At once the curtain is shaken in the direction of M. A.

From 10.10 to 10.15, several times in succession, five raps are heard in the table. Each time the gas is turned down a little, and each time the table moves without contact.

At 10.20 it balances itself, suspended in the air, and resting upon the two legs of the longer side. Then it rises off of its four feet to a height of eight inches.

10.25. The curtain moves, and M. Flammarion says that there is some one behind it, that somebody is pressing his hand. He holds his hand out toward the curtain, at a distance of about four inches. The curtain is pushed out into something like a pocket made by a hand which is drawing near. The medium with nervous laugh cries, "Take it, take it." M. A. feels through the curtain the touch of a soft body, like a cushion. But the hand of M. F. is not taken. Objects are heard to move, including the bells of a tambourine.

All of a sudden the medium, leaving M. Mathieu, stretches her hand above the table toward M. Jules Bois, who takes it. At this moment, behind the curtain, an object falls to the floor with a great noise.

10.35. Eusapia, again freeing her right hand, lifts it up above her left shoulder, the fingers forward, at a distance of several inches from the curtain, and beats four or five strokes in the air which are heard to sound in the tambourine. Several persons think they see a will-o'-the-wisp through the gap between the curtains.

Up to that point the gas has been gradually lowered. After the lapse of a full moment I find that I can no longer read, but I can distinguish very clearly the horizontal lines of my writing. I can see the hour perfectly by my watch, as well as the faces of those present, (that of Eusapia especially) turned toward the light. The gas is now completely extinguished.

At 10.40, the gas being out, I can still read my watch, but with difficulty; I still see the lines of my writing, though without being able to read.

Eusapia wants somebody to hold her head, which is done. Then she asks somebody to hold her feet. M. Baschet gets down on his knees under the table and holds them.

M. Antoniadi cries, "I am touched!" and says that he has felt a hand. I have very distinctly seen the curtain puffing out. Mme. Flammarion, whom I see silhouetted on the bright glass of the window, her head leaning forward, goes behind the curtain in order to assure herself that the medium is not doing anything suspicious in the way of motions.

One of the persons present having changed places, Eusapia utters complaints: "La catena! la catena!" ("The chain! the chain!") The chain is re-established.

At 10.45 the curtain is inflated again. A bump is heard. The round table touches the elbow of M. Antoniadi. Mme. Flammarion, who has kept looking behind the curtain, says that she sees the round table turned over. Its feet are in the air, and it is moving to and fro. She thinks she sees glimmers of light near the floor.

M. Mathieu feels a hand and an arm pushing the curtain against him. M. Antoniadi says that he is touched by a cushion; his chair is pulled and turns under him as if on a pivot. He is touched again on the elbow by some object.

It is ascertained that M. Jules Bois is holding Eusapia's right hand above the table; M. Antoniadi assures us that he is holding her left hand, and M. Mathieu her feet.

The curtain is again shaken twice; M. Antoniadi is hit in the back very hard, he says, and a hand pulls his hair. The only light remaining is the little lamp with a shade, behind an easy-chair at the farther end of the salon. I continue to write, but my strokes take all kinds of shapes.

Suddenly, M. Antoniadi exclaims that he is enveloped by the curtain, which rests upon his shoulders. Eusapia cries, "What is this that is passing over me?" The round table comes forth beneath the curtain. Mme. Flammarion, who is standing opposite the window, and has kept looking behind the curtain, says that she sees some very white object. At the same moment M. Flammarion, Mme. Fourton, and M. Jules Bois exclaim that they have just seen a white hand between the curtains, above Eusapia's head; and, at the same moment, M. Mathieu says that his hair is being pulled. The hand we saw seemed small, like that of a woman or of a child.

"If there is a hand there," says M. Flammarion, "could it perhaps grasp an object?" M. Jules Bois holds a book out toward the middle of the right-hand curtain. The book is taken and held two seconds. Mme. Flammarion, whom I see always silhouetted upon the bright glass of the window, and who is looking behind the curtain, cries that she has seen the book pass through.

M. F. proposes to light up and verify. But everybody agrees in thinking that the curtain may have already changed its position. A moment afterwards the curtain is again puffed out, and M. Antoniadi says that he is hit four or five times on the shoulder. Eusapia has asked him more than ten times whether he is quite "seguro" (sure) that he has hold of her hand and her foot.

"Yes, yes," he replies, "seguro, segurissimo" ("sure, quite sure").

Mme. Fourton says that for the second time she has seen a hand stretched out and that this time it touched the shoulder of M. Antoniadi. M. Jules Bois says that for the second time he has seen a hand stretched out at the end of a small arm, the fingers moving, the palm forward. (It is impossible to decide whether these two visions were simultaneous or not.)

We are getting accustomed to the almost complete darkness; I can still read "11.15" by my watch. M. Antoniadi says his ear is pinched very hard. M. Mathieu says he is touched. M. Antoniadi feels his chair pulled: it falls to the floor. He lifts it again and seats himself on it, and is again hit very hard on the shoulder.

About 11.20, at the request of Eusapia, M. Flammarion replaces M. Mathieu. He holds her two feet and one hand; M. Antoniadi holds the other hand. The lamp is lowered still more. The darkness is almost complete. M. Flammarion, having remarked that an unknown physical force is evidently present, but perhaps not an individual personality, feels his hand seized all of a sudden by some one (or some thing), and is interrupted. Then, a little after, he complains that his beard is being pulled (on the side opposite the medium, where I am. I did not perceive anything).

At 11.30 the lamp is turned up. It is comparatively bright in the room. The curtain, after all these movements, is seen to be more and more pushed aside, enveloping the head of Eusapia. Suddenly, above her head, we all see the tambourine slowly appear and fall upon the table with a noise like that of sheep-bells. It seems to me brighter than the feeble glimmer of the concealed lamp would justify and as if accompanied by white phosphorescent gleams; but they are perhaps flashes of light from its gilded ornaments, which, however, ought to appear yellower.

When the lamp is turned down, the noise of moving furniture is heard; the round table is fetched clear up onto the top of the large table. It is removed, and the tambourine executes a dance all alone with a peculiar sound like the ringing of bells. Mme. Fourton says that she has had her hand pressed and her fore-arm pinched.

At 11.45 the window curtain is closed in its turn; and, after a moment, we all see in the direction in which the cleft in the corner curtain ought to be, above Eusapia's head, a large white star of the color of Vega, though larger and of a softer light, and which rests motionless for some seconds, then is extinguished. Shortly after, a zigzag glimmer of light, of the same white color, runs over the right-hand curtain, tracing two or three upright lines of several inches in length, like an N very much elongated.

In spite of the fact that night has fallen, there is still sufficient light entering by the two uncurtained windows, and proceeding from the vague glimmer of the lamp behind the easy-chair, to enable each one of us to distinguish his neighbors. Our silhouettes are outlined in the large mirror near us and above the sofa. The white collars of the men are clearly seen, their faces a little less clearly. Yet on my left I see very plainly M. Baschet, on my right Mme. Brisson, standing and holding her hand up to her face to shield the eyes. I also distinguish Mme. Flammarion, who has come and seated herself near her.

M. Flammarion feels an object gliding over his hair. He begs Mme. de Labadye to take hold of it; and a music-box falls into his hands, which, before the séance, was placed upon the ogee, in the corner concealed by the curtain. M. Brisson has taken the place at the table formerly occupied by M. Flammarion, facing Eusapia. A cushion hits him full in the face. As I am approaching the mirror, I see the reflection of this passing cushion by the comparatively bright light at the far end of the room.

M. Baschet seizes the object and rests his elbow upon it. It is snatched from him, flies over our heads, hits the mirror, falls upon the sofa, and rolls upon my foot. All this without my being able to perceive any movement on the part of the medium.

Midnight draws near. The séance is adjourned.

MM. Antoniadi and Mathieu then declare that the control with which they were charged has not been successful, and that they are not sure that they have always had hold of the medium's hands.

Report of M. Antoniadi

(The Same Séance)

I shall give you an exact account of the rôle I played, that I may gratify your desire to know the truth.

I restricted myself to ascertaining whether there was a single phenomenon which could not be explained in the most simple manner, and I arrived at the conclusion that there was not. I assure you, on my word of honor, that my watchful, silent attitude convinced me, beyond all manner of doubt, that everything is fraudulent, from the beginning to the end; that there is no doubt that Eusapia shifts her hands or her feet, and that the hand or the foot that one is thought to control is never held tight or very strongly pressed at the moment of the production of the phenomena. My certain conclusion is that nothing is produced without the substitution of hands. I ought to add that, at first, I was very much astonished when I was hit hard in the back, from behind the curtain, while I was very clearly holding two hands with my right hand. Happily, however, at this moment, Mme. Flammarion having given us a little light, I saw that I held the right hand of Eusapia and—yours!

The substitution is made by Eusapia with extraordinary dexterity. In order to ascertain it, I was obliged to concentrate my mind upon her very slightest movements with the severest attention. But it is the first step that costs; and, once familiarized with her artifices, I predicted with decision all the phenomena by the sensation of touch alone.

Being a good observer, I am absolutely certain that I was not deceived. I was neither hypnotized, nor was I at all frightened during the "bringing in" of objects. And, as I am not a lunatic, I believe that a certain weight should be given to my affirmations.

It is true that, during the séance, I was not sincere, disguising the truth of the efficacy of my control. I did that with the sole purpose of making Eusapia think that I was a convert to Spiritualism. I did this to avoid scandal. But, once the sitting was over, the Truth choked me, and I was most eager to communicate it to my great benefactor and official superior.

It is not prudent to be too affirmative. It is for that reason that I have always been reserved in my interpretation of natural phenomena. Consequently, I am unable to be so terribly affirmative as to take oath to the absolute charlatanism of the manifestations of Eusapia, before, as Shakespeare says, I have "rendered assurance doubly sure."

I have no personal ambition in the spiritistic line, and all the careful observations that I made during this séance of November 21 are only one stone the more contributed to the edifice of Truth.

It is not on account of prejudice that I do not believe in the reality of the manifestations, and I can assure you, if I were able to see the least phenomenon that was really extraordinary or inexplicable, I should be the first to confess my error.

The reading of several books has led me to admit the possible reality of these manifestations, but direct experience has convinced me of the contrary.

My frankness in this report unhappily borders upon indiscretion. But frankness is here synonymous with devotion, for it would be to betray you if I were false for an instant to the sacred cause of Truth.

Report of M. Mathieu.

(Séance of November 25)

The séance opens at 9.30. M. Brisson, controller on the left, puts his feet on Eusapia's feet; M. Flammarion, controller on the right, holds her knees. In a moment the table leans to the right, its two left feet are lifted and then it falls back; then follows the lifting of the two right feet, and finally the lifting of the whole table off of its four feet to a height of about seven inches above the floor (contact of feet certain and knees motionless). I take a photograph.

At 9.37 a slight lifting on the left; then a lifting on the right, and a total levitation (photograph).

During the levitations of the table the salon is lighted by a strong Auer burner. It is now extinguished and is replaced by a little lamp which is placed behind a fire-screen at the farther end of the room. Absolute control of the hands and of the feet made by MM. Brisson and Flammarion.

M. Brisson is slightly touched on the right hip, and at this moment the two hands of Eusapia are plainly seen.

At 9.48 the curtain shakes and then puffs out three times in succession. M. Brisson is again touched on the right hip; the curtain is drawn back as if by a curtain-band. M. Flammarion, who holds Eusapia's hand, makes three gestures and to each of his gestures corresponds a new divergence of the portière. Eusapia recommends that we "give attention to the temperature of the medium; it will be found to be changed after each phenomenon."

At 9.57 the light is diminished and is henceforth very feeble. The curtain bellies out, and at the same moment M. Brisson is touched; then the curtain is flung forcefully over the table. At the request of Eusapia, M. Delanne lightly touches her head behind, and the curtain slightly trembles.

Eusapia asks that a window be partly opened, the one in the middle of the salon, saying that we shall see something new. M. Flammarion holds with his left hand the knees of the medium, and with his right hand holds the wrist, the thumb, and the palm of her right hand before him at the height of the eyes. M. Brisson holds the left hand. Eusapia seems to call something from the direction of the window, making gestures, and saying, "I will catch it." Then a little branch of privet comes and touches M. Flammarion's hand, apparently arriving from somewhere near the window. M. F. takes this branch. A moment later two spindle-tree branches come from behind the curtain at the height of M. Brisson's head and past the edge of the curtain, which is pulled up and back. The branches fall on the table.

M. Brisson, all this time at Eusapia's left, is next touched on the hip, at a moment when the hand of the medium is at the height of M. Flammarion's beard. Then the chair of M. Brisson is pulled and pushed about. We hear distinctly, behind the curtain, sounds from the shaking of the round table, upon which is the tambourine. Certain vibrations of the tambourine are produced, corresponding to the movements of the round table. At this moment M. Brisson mentions the fact that he has been out of touch with the foot of the medium for about half a second, but he is then holding her two thumbs about ten inches apart, and M. Flammarion has her right hand close to his breast. The right hand of M. Brisson, holding the left of Eusapia, passes behind the curtain, and M. Brisson says that he has the impression of something like a dress-skirt puffed out against his ankle.

Thereupon ensues new jolting and bumping of the round table and the tambourine, with displacement of the round table. (Undoubted control by MM. Flammarion and Brisson.)

10.30. Clattering noises of the round table in the cabinet are heard. M. Flammarion makes gestures with his hand, and synchronistic movements of the table and of the tambourine take place in the dark cabinet.

10.35. Eusapia asks for a few minutes' rest. The sitting is resumed at 10.43. The violin and the bell are hurled with force through the cleft in the curtain (M. Brisson gives assurance that he holds Eusapia's left hand by the thumb, upon her knees, and M. Flammarion the entire right hand). At this moment a photograph is taken by flash-light. Cries and groans from Eusapia, blinded by the light.

The sitting begins again some minutes afterward, and M. Jules Claretie, sitting at the left of M. Brisson, has his fingers twice touched by a hand. M. Baschet, who is standing away from the table, holds out a violin to the curtain: the violin is seized and thrown into the cabinet. He holds a book out to the curtain: this book is seized, but falls to the floor, before the curtain.

M. Claretie presents a cigarette-holder and feels a hand which tries to seize it, but he resists and will not let it go. M. Flammarion asks him to let go of the object: the hand bears off the prize. A moment after, this object is thrown from the cleft between the two curtains against Mme. de Basilewska at the other end of the table. It had been both presented and removed at the middle of the curtain.

At eleven o'clock Eusapia begs for a little more light. M. Claretie has become controller of the left in place of M. Brisson. He is touched on the left side. Then the round table is overturned while advancing toward the main table. M. Claretie perceives that his chair is moving backwards, as if pulled back; then he is hit on the shoulder and experiences a strong pressure under the arm-pit. The curtain suddenly approaches M. Claretie, brushes against him, and envelops both himself and the medium. M. Claretie is then pinched in the cheek. M. Flammarion presents to the curtain the hand of Mme. Fourton, and the two hands are pinched through the curtain.

The music-box, which is in the dark cabinet, falls on the table; Mmes. Gagneur and Flammarion at the same moment make mention of a hand. M. Baschet presents the music-box to the curtain; a hand seizes it through the curtain, he resists, the hand pushes him away; he presents it again, the hand seizes it and throws it back, and the box thus thrown wounds M. Claretie, who is struck beneath the left eye. The tambourine is thrown forward upon the table after having remained suspended a moment above the head of the medium.

At 11.15 a complete levitation of the table for seven or eight seconds. Absolute control by MM. Flammarion and Claretie. M. Flammarion has his knee pinched by a hand. Next the round table is transferred to the knees of M. Claretie and is forced upon him in spite of all his resistance. Levitations of the table take place in full light. Verification of the feet. The feet of one of the controllers are beneath, those of the other above, and those of the medium between the two.

Report of M. Pallotti

(Séance of November 14)

(There are present at this séance, besides the hosts of the evening: M. and Mme. Brisson, M. and Mme. Pallotti, M. le Bocain, M. Boutigny, Mme. Fourton.)

At the commencement of the sitting several levitations of the table took place, and, when I asked the spirit who was present if he could let me see my daughter Rosalie, I obtained an affirmative reply. I then made an agreement with the said spirit that a series of eight regular raps would indicate to me the moment when my dear daughter would be present. After some minutes of waiting, the number of raps agreed on was heard in the table. These raps were vigorous and made at fixed intervals.

I found, at this time, that I was placed opposite to the medium,—that is to say, facing her,—at the other end of the table. When I asked the spirit to embrace me and caress me, I immediately felt an icy breath before my face, but yet without experiencing the least sensation of contact.

When the medium announced the materialization of the spirit in these words, "E venuta, e venuta" ("She is here, she is here"), I distinguished over the middle of the table a spectral form, dim and confused, but which, little by little, grew brighter, and took the shape of the head of a young girl of the same stature as Rosalie.

When objects, such as the music-box, violin, or the like, were unexpectedly brought before us, I saw very plainly the shape of a little hand emerging from the curtain that hung close by me, and which placed these different objects upon the table.

I ought to declare that, during these inexplicable phenomena, the chain was not broken for a single moment: it would consequently have been materially impossible for one of us to have made use of his hands.

I will now describe the last phenomena in which I was for a little while both actor and spectator. These events closed the séance.

One of the company, M. Boutigny, who was affianced to my daughter, having left the table to give his place to one of the spectators, I saw him approach the curtain of which I have spoken, which at once gaped open by his side. I ascertained this fact very precisely.

M. Boutigny then announced to us aloud that he was being very affectionately caressed. The medium, who was at this moment in an extraordinary state of agitation, kept saying, "Amore mio, amore mio!" ("My love, my love!"), and, addressing herself to me, called to me several times in the following words, "Adesso vieni tu! vieni tu!" ("Come at once, come!")

I hastened to take the place which M. Boutigny occupied near the curtain, and I was scarcely there when I felt myself kissed several times. I was able for an instant to touch the head which was kissing me, which, however, drew back from the contact of my hands.

I ought to say that, while these events were taking place, my eyes were carefully observing the medium as well as the persons who were by my side. I can therefore, boldly certify that I was not the victim of any illusion or subterfuge, and that the head which I touched was the head of a real and unknown person. I felt myself afterwards gently stroked several times, upon the face and head, the neck and the breast, by a hand which came out from behind the curtain. At last I saw the portière move aside and a little hand, very moist, very soft, stretched out and placed on my right hand. Quick as thought, I reached my left hand to this place to seize it; but, after having held it closely pressed in mine for several seconds, it seemed to melt away between my fingers.

Before closing, let me say, by way of additional authentication, that M. Flammarion had the extreme kindness to have this séance given for my family and myself, and it therefore took on a very markedly private character.

The séance having lasted from 9.20 to 11.45 P.M., we several times asked the medium if she felt fatigued. Eusapia said no. It was only when the last experiment took place, when we (myself and my family) had been caressed and embraced, that the medium, feeling tired, decided to end the sitting.

My wife is convinced, as I am, that she embraced her daughter, recognizing her hair and the general appearance of her person.

Report of M. Le Bocain

(The Same Séance)

The following are some extraordinary phenomena which I observed during the course of this séance and of which I believe I can give a report as exact as it is impartial, having personally taken the most minute precautions to assure myself of the perfect fairness of the conditions under which these different wonders were produced.

I only speak, be it understood, of circumstances or actions with which I myself was associated both as actor and as spectator.

1. At the opening of the sitting and during the time that the table was engaged in all sorts of noisy pranks, I clearly felt the pressure of a hand clasping me in a friendly way upon the right shoulder. In order to make the matters clear, I ought to depose that—

a) I sat at the left of the medium and held her hand; that, furthermore, during the whole sitting her foot was placed on mine.

b) That, with Eusapia's hand always tightly pressed in mine, I proved, by suddenly placing it upon her knees, at the very moment that the table was rising from beside us, that her lower limbs were in a normal position and absolutely motionless.

c) For these different reasons, it seems to me, in fact, impossible that Eusapia could have made any use whatever of these two limbs (which happened to be placed by me) to execute a movement, even unconscious, that could give rise to the least suspicion.

2. At a certain point in the proceedings I felt on my right cheek the sensation of a fondling caress. I felt very distinctly that it was a real hand which was touching my skin, and nothing else. The hand in question seemed to me of small size, and the skin was soft and moist.

3. Towards the end of the séance I felt upon my back a gust of cold air, and at the same time I heard the curtain behind me slowly open.

Then, when I turned around, very much puzzled, I perceived standing at the lower end of this kind of alcove a form,—indistinct, it is true, but not so much so that I could not recognize the silhouette of a young girl whose figure was slightly beneath the average. I ought to say here that my sister Rosalie was also of short stature. The head of this apparition was not very distinct. It seemed surrounded by a short of shaded aureole. The whole form of the statue, if I may so express myself, stood out very little from the dim obscurity from which it had emerged; that is to say, it was not very luminous.

4. I addressed myself to the spirit in Arabic, in very nearly the following terms:

"If it is really thou, Rosalie, who art in the midst of us, pull the hair on the back of my head three times in succession."

About ten minutes later, and when I had almost completely forgotten my request, I felt my hair pulled three separate times, just as I had desired. I certify this fact, which, besides, formed for me a most convincing truth of the presence of a familiar spirit close about us.

Le Bocain, Illustrator,
Rire, Pêle-Mêle, Chronique Amusante, etc.

I have restricted myself to presenting here these different reports,[28] in spite of certain contradictions, and even because of them. The reports mutually supplement each other and form a complete whole, through the entire independence of each observer.

You see how complex the subject is, and how difficult it is to form a radical conviction, an absolute scientific judgment. Some phenomena are incontestably true: there are others which are doubtful and which we may attribute to fraud, conscious or unconscious, and sometimes also to illusions of the observers. The levitation of the table, for example, its complete detachment from the floor under the action of an unknown force acting in opposition to the law of gravity, is a fact which cannot reasonably be contested.

I may remark, in this connection, that the table almost always rises hesitatingly, after balancings and oscillations, while, on the contrary, when it falls back it goes straight down at one swoop, alighting squarely on its four feet.[29]

On the other hand, since the medium constantly seeks to release one hand (generally her left hand) from the control designed to hinder her from doing so, a certain number of the touches felt and of the displacements of objects may be due to a substitution of hands. This behavior of hers will be the subject of a special examination in the following chapter.

But it would be impossible by the whole force of the hand to produce the violent movement of the curtain, which seems to be inflated by a tempestuous wind, and projected to the very centre of the table, forming a great hood around the heads of the sitters. To fling out the curtain with such force, it would be necessary for the medium to rise and push on it as hard as she could with her extended arms—not once merely, but again and again. But how can she do this when she is all the while seated tranquilly in her chair?

These experiments place us in a special environment or atmosphere, on the different physical and psychical characters of which it is difficult to form an opinion.

At the time of the last séance, during which M. and Mme. Pallotti are sure of having seen, touched, and embraced their daughter, I saw nothing, at that moment, of this spectral form, although it was only a few yards from me, and although I had perceived, some moments before, the head of a young girl. It is true that, out of respect for their emotion, I did not approach their group. But I kept careful watch, and I perceived no one but the living.

At the séance of November 10 the noise of a sonorous object notified us of a displacement, a movement. We seem to hear the violin strings lightly touched. It is, in fact, the little violin on the round table, which is lifted to a height somewhat above that of the head of the medium, passes into the opening between the two curtains, and appears before us with the neck forward. The idea comes into my head to grasp this instrument during its slow passage through the air; but I hesitate, because I wish to see what will become of it. It comes as far as the middle of the table, descends, then falls, partly upon the table, partly upon the left hand of M. Brisson and the right hand of Mme. Fourton.

That was one of the most accurate observations that I made at this séance. I did not let go of Eusapia's right hand for a single instant, and M. Brisson did not for a moment let go of her left hand.

But in the face of phenomena so incomprehensible we always revert to scepticism. In the séance of November 19 we had thoroughly resolved this time not to leave any loophole for doubt as to the hands, to hinder every attempt at substitution, and to have the most complete control of each hand, without having our attention withdrawn from this object for a single moment. Eusapia has only two hands. She belongs to the same zoological species that we do, and is neither trimanous nor quadrumanous.

It was enough, then, that there were two of us; that each one took a hand of the medium and kept hold of it between the thumb and the forefinger, that no possible doubt might arise, drew in the elbows, and held the said hand as far removed as possible from the axis of the medium's body and pressed against our own person, so as to remove the objection about the substitution of hands.

That was the essential object of this séance, as far as concerned M. Brisson and me. He had charge of the left hand. I had charge of the right. I need not add that I am as sure of the loyalty of M. Brisson as he is sure of mine, and that, forewarned as we were, and holding this séance for the express purpose of this control, we could neither of us be the dupes of any attempt at fraud, so far as regards that occasion, at least.

The famous medium, Home, had several times spoken to me of a curious experiment that he and Crookes made with an accordion held in one of his hands and playing all by itself, without the lower end being held by another hand. Crookes has represented this experiment by a sketch in his memoir upon this subject. The medium is seen holding the accordion with one hand in a kind of open-work cage, and the accordion is playing by itself. I shall give the details of this matter farther on.

I tried the experiment in another way, by holding the accordion myself, and not letting it be touched by the medium. The feats which we had just witnessed, and which were performed while Eusapia had her hands securely held, gave me the hope of succeeding, so much the more because we believed that we had seen fluid hands in action.

I, therefore, take a little new accordion, bought that evening in a bazaar, and, approaching the table and remaining in a standing position, I hold the accordion by one side, resting two fingers upon two keys, in such a way as to permit the air to pass in case the instrument should begin to play.

So held, it is vertically suspended by the stretching out of my right hand to the height of my head, and above the head of the medium. We make sure that her hands are all the time tightly held and that the chain is unbroken. After a short wait of five or six seconds I feel the accordion drawn by its free end, and the bellows is immediately pushed in several times successively; and at the same time the music is heard. There is not the least doubt that a hand, a pair of pincers, or what-not, has hold of the lower end of the instrument. I perceive very well the resistance of this prehensible organ. All possibility of fraud is eliminated; for the instrument is well above Eusapia's head, her hands are firmly held, and I distinctly see the distention of the curtain as far as the instrument. The accordion continues to make itself heard, and is pulled on so strongly that I say to the invisible power, "Well, since you have such a good hold on it, keep it!" I withdraw my hand, and the instrument remains as if glued to the curtain. It is no longer heard. What has become of it? I propose to light a candle to hunt for it. But the general opinion is that, since things are going so well, it is better to make no changes in the environment. While we are talking, the accordion begins to play,—a slight and rather insignificant air. In order to do that, it must be held by two hands. At the end of fifteen or twenty seconds it is brought to the middle of the table (playing all the while). The certainty that hands are playing it is so complete that I say to the Unknown, "Since you hold the accordion so well, you can doubtless take my hand itself." I reach out my arm at the height of my head, rather a little higher. The curtain inflates, and through the curtain I feel a hand (a pretty strong left hand); that is to say, three fingers and the thumb, and these grasp the end of my right hand.

Let us suppose for an instant that the accordion could have been pulled by one of Eusapia's hands, which she had released, lifted up, and screened behind the curtain. It is a very natural hypothesis. Let us say that the two controllers on the right and on the left respectively were cheated by the dexterity of the medium. That is not impossible. But, then, that the instrument might play, our heroine would have had to release her two hands and leave the two controllers at loggerheads with their own hands. It is something not to be thought of.

Apropos of the existence of a third hand, a fluid hand, created on the spur of the moment, with muscles and bones (an hypothesis so bold that one hardly dares to express it), I relate here what we observed during the sitting of November 19.

M. Guillaume de Fontenay, with whom the experiments at Montfort-l'Amaury were made, in 1897, at the home of the Blech family, had come on purpose from the centre of France, with a great profusion of apparatus and of new processes, to try to get some photographs. The medium appeared to be enchanted with them, and toward the middle of the soirée said to us, "You are going to have, this evening, something that you did not expect, something which has never been accomplished by any other medium, and which can be photographed as an unimpeachable record." She then explains to us that I am to lift my hand up, while firmly holding hers by the wrist; that M. Sardou, while holding her left hand, will keep watch over it above the table, and that then her third hand will appear in the photograph, her fluidic hand, holding the violin near her head, at some distance from her right hand, behind her, and against the curtain.

We wait pretty long before anything happens. At length, the medium trembles, sighs, recommends that we breathe deeply and thus aid her, and we feel, rather than see, the moving of the violin through the air, with a slight vibrating noise of the strings. Eusapia cries, "It is time, take the photograph, quick, don't wait, fire!" But the apparatus does not work: the magnesium won't kindle. The medium grows impatient, still holds out, but cries that she cannot hold out much longer. We all vehemently clamor for the photograph. Nothing moves. In the darkness, which is needed in order that the plate in the camera shall not have to be veiled, M. de Fontenay does not succeed in lighting the magnesium, and the violin is heard to fall to the floor.

The medium seems exhausted, groans, laments, and we all regret this check to the proceedings; but Eusapia declares that she can begin again, and asks us to get ready. In fact, at the end of five or six minutes the same phenomena are produced. M. de Fontenay explodes a chlorate of potassium pistol. The light is instantaneous, but feeble. It enables us to see Eusapia's left hand being held upon the table by M. Sardou's right hand, her right hand held in the air by my left hand, and at a distance of about twelve inches in the rear, at the height of one's head, the violin, resting vertically against the curtain. But the photograph gives no picture.

Eusapia now asks for a little light ("poco di luce"). The small hand-lamp is lighted again, and the illumination is sufficient for us to see each other distinctly, including the arms, the head of the medium, the curtain, etc. The chain is formed again. The curtain flares widely out, and M. Sardou is several times touched by a hand which gives him a good whack on the shoulder, making him bend his head forward toward the table. In the presence of this manifestation and of these sensations we have again the impression that there has been a hand there, a hand different from those of the medium (which we continue carefully to hold),—and from ours, because we are holding each other's hands in the chain. Moreover, there is no one near the curtain, which is plainly visible. I thereupon remark, "Since there is a hand there, let it take from me this violin, as it did day before yesterday." I take the violin by the handle and hold it out to the curtain. It is at once taken and lifted, then falls to the floor. I do not for a moment let go the hand of the medium. Yet I grasp this hand with my right hand, for a moment, in order to pick up with my left the violin that has fallen near me. As I stoop down to the floor, I feel an icy breath upon my hand, but nothing more. I take the violin and put it on the table; then I take again with my left hand the hand of the medium, and, seizing the violin with my right, I hold it out again to the curtain. But Mme. Brisson, peculiarly incredulous, asks me to let her take it herself. She does so, holds it out to the curtain, and the instrument is snatched from her, in spite of all the efforts that she makes to retain it. Everybody declares they saw very distinctly this time.

The hands of the medium have not been let go a single minute.

It seems as if this experiment, made under these conditions, in sufficient light, ought to leave no doubt about the existence of a third hand of the medium which acts in obedience to her will. And yet!—

During this same soirée of November 19 I ask that the violin, which has fallen to the floor, be brought again upon the table. We keep holding carefully the medium's hands, M. Sardou her left hand and I her right. Eusapia, wishing to give still more security, more certainty, proposes that I take her two hands, the right as I am holding it, and her left wrist in my right hand, her left hand always being held by M. Sardou,—the whole show of hands taking place on the table. A noise is heard. The violin is brought on, passes above our hands, thus criss-crossed, and is laid down, farther on, in the middle of the table. A candle is lighted, and the position of our hands is ascertained. They have not moved. Some time after this phenomena, in the dim light, we all saw will-o'-the-wisps shining in the cabinet. They were visible through the cleft in the curtains, which at that time was rather wide. For my part, I saw three of them, the first very brilliant, the others less intense. They were not tremulous, nor did they stir in the least, and remained in view scarcely more than a second.

M. Antoniadi having remarked that he is not always sure of holding her left hand, Eusapia says to me in a flush of passion, "Since he is not sure, take my two hands yourself again." I already hold the right, and am absolutely certain of it. I thereupon take her left wrist in my right hand, M. A. declaring that he will take care of the fingers. In this position, Eusapia's two hands being thus held above the table, a cushion, which is at my right upon the table, having been forcibly thrown there some moments before, is seized and thrown over the sofa, brushing my forehead on the left. Those who sit at the table and form the chain affirm that the hands of the chain have not lost touch with each other.

Here is another circumstance recorded in the notes of Mme. Flammarion:

We were almost in complete darkness,—the lamp, removed as far as possible from Eusapia, having only the dim glow of a night-lamp. Eusapia was seated at the experiment table,—between MM. Brisson and Pallotti, who were holding her two hands,—and almost facing this lamp.

Mme. Brisson and I were seated some yards distant from Eusapia, one of us on the side and the other in the middle of the salon, Eusapia facing us, while we had our backs turned to the light. This allowed us to distinguish well enough everything that passed before us.

Up to the moment when the event that I am going to relate took place, Mme. Brisson had remained almost as incredulous as I, apropos of the phenomena, and she had just been expressing to me in a low tone her regret at not having yet seen anything herself, when, all of a sudden, the curtain behind Eusapia began to shake and move gracefully back, as if lifted by an invisible curtain band,—and what do I see? The little table on three feet, and leaping (apparently in high spirits) over the floor, at the height of about eight inches, while the gilded tambourine is in its turn leaping gayly at the same height above the table, and noisily tinkling its bells.

Stupefied with wonder, quick as I can I pull Mme. Brisson to my side, and, pointing with my finger at what is taking place, "Look!" said I.

And then the table and the tambourine begin their carpet-dance again in perfect unison, one of them falling forcibly upon the floor and the other upon the table. Mme. Brisson and I could not help bursting out into laughter; for, indeed, it was too funny! A sylph could not have been more amusing.

Eusapia had not turned around. She was seen seated; and her hands, placed before her, were held by the two controllers. Even if she had been able to free both her hands, she would not have been able to take hold of the round table and tambourine, except by turning around; and the two ladies saw them leaping about all alone.

I observe to Eusapia that she must be very tired, that the séance has lasted over two hours and has yielded extraordinary results, and that it is perhaps time to end it. She replies that she desires to continue still a little longer, and that there will be new phenomena. We accept with pleasure, and sit down and wait.

Then she lays her head on my shoulder, takes my entire right arm, including the hand, and putting my leg between hers, and my feet between her feet, she held me very tight. Then she begins to rub the carpet, drawing my feet along with hers, and squeezing me tighter than before. Then she cries, "Spetta! spetta!" ("Look! look!"); then, "Vieni! vieni!" ("Come! come!") She invites M. Pallotti to take a place behind his wife and see what will happen. I must add that both of them had been earnestly asking, for some minutes, if they might see and embrace their daughter, as they had done at Rome.

After a new nervous effort on the part of Eusapia, and a kind of convulsion accompanied by groans, complaints, and cries, there was a great movement of the curtain. Several times I see the head of a young girl bowing before me, with high-arched forehead and with long hair.

She bows three times, and shows her dark profile against the window. A moment after we hear sounds from M. and Mme. Pallotti. They are covering with kisses the face of a being invisible to us, saying to her with passionate affection, "Rosa, Rosa, my dear, my Rosalie," etc. They say they felt between their hands the face and the hair of their daughter.

My impression was that there was really there a fluidic being. I did not touch it. The grief of the parents, revived and consoled at the same time, seemed to me so worthy of respect that I did not approach them. But, as to the identity of the spectral being, I believed it to be a sentimental illusion of theirs.

I come now to the strangest circumstances of all, the most incomprehensible, the most incredible, of any that we experienced in our séances.

On November 21 M. Jules Bois presents a book before the curtain at about the height of a man standing upright. The salon is dimly lighted by a little lamp with a shade, set pretty well to one side. Yet objects are seen with distinctness.

An invisible hand behind the curtain seizes the book. Then all the observers see it disappear as if it had passed through the curtain. It is not seen to fall before the curtain. It is an octavo, rather slender, bound in red, which I have just taken from my library.

Now Mme. Flammarion, almost as sceptical as M. Baschet about these phenomena, had glided past the window to the rear of the curtain, in order to observe carefully what was passing. She hoped to detect a movement of the medium's arm, and to unmask her, in spite of the courtesy she owed her as her hostess. She saw very plainly Eusapia's head, motionless before the mirror which reflected the light.

Suddenly the book appears to her, it having passed through the curtain,—upheld in the air, without hands or arms, for a space of one or two seconds. Then she sees it fall down. She cries, "Oh! the book: it has just passed through the curtain!" and, pale and stupefied with wonder, she abruptly retires among the observers.

The entire hither side of the curtain was plainly visible, because the left portion of the left-hand curtain had been loosened from its rod by the weight of a person who had sat down on the sofa where the lower part of the curtain had been accidentally placed; and because a large opening had been made fronting the mirror which filled the entire wall of the farther end of the salon,—a mirror that reflected the light of the little lamp.

If such an event had really taken place, we should be forced to admit that the book went through the curtain without any opening, for the tissue of the fabric is wholly intact; and we cannot suppose for a single moment that it passed through at the side, the book having been held out about the middle,—that is to say, about twenty-four inches from each side of the curtain, the breadth of which is four feet.

Nevertheless, this book was seen by Mme. Flammarion, who was looking behind the curtain; and it disappeared from the eyes of the persons who were in front, notably M. Baschet, M. Brisson, M. J. Bois, Mme. Fourton and myself. We were not expecting this miracle in any way; we were stupefied by it; we asked what had become of the book, and it seemed as if it had fallen behind the curtain.

Collective hallucination? But we were all in cool blood, entirely self-possessed.

If Eusapia had been able to adroitly slip her hand around and seize the book through the portière, the bare outline of the book would not have been seen, but a protuberance of the portière.

How great a value the sight of this thing passing through a portière would have as a scientific datum, if one were only sure of the absolute honesty of the medium,—if, indeed, this medium were a man of science, a physicist, a chemist, an astronomer, whose scientific integrity would be above suspicion! The mere fact of the possibility of fraud takes away ninety-nine one-hundredths of the worth of the observation, and makes it necessary for us to see it a hundred times before being sure. The conditions of certainty ought to be understood by all investigators, and it is curious to hear intelligent persons express surprise at our doubts, and at the strict scientific obligation we are under to lay down these conditions. In order to be sure of abnormalities like these levitations, for example, we must make sure of them a hundred times over; not see them once, but a hundred times.

It seems to us impossible that matter could pass through matter. You place for example a stone upon a napkin. If one should tell you that he has found it under the napkin, without any break in the continuity of the tissue, you would not believe him. However, I take a piece of ice, weighing say two pounds, and place it upon a napkin; I place both upon a strainer, in the oven; the piece of ice melts, passes through the napkin, and falls drop by drop into a basin. I put the whole thing into a freezing machine, the melted water congeals again; the piece of ice weighing two pounds has passed through the napkin.

It is very simple, you think. Yes, it is simple because we understand it. But, of course, this is not the same case as that of the book. Yet, after all, it is matter passing through matter, after a transformation of its physical condition.

We might seek explanations, invoke the hypotheses of the fourth dimension, or discuss the non-Euclidian geometry. It seems to me more simple, however, to think that, on the one hand, these experiments are not yet sufficient for us to make an absolute affirmation, and that, on the other hand, our ignorance of everything is formidable and forbids us to deny anything.

The phenomena of which I am speaking are so extraordinary that one is led to doubt them, even when one feels assured that he has seen them. Thus, for example, I noticed that M. René Baschet—my learned friend, present editor of Illustration—affirmed before us all, during the séance and afterward, that he saw with his own eyes, under the table, a head like that of a young girl of about twelve years of age, together with the bust. This head sank down vertically while he was looking at it and disappeared. He made the affirmation on the 21st, repeated it on the 22d at a theatre where we met, and on the 25th again at his home. Some time after, M. Baschet was convinced that he had been deceived, that he had been the dupe of an illusion. That is also possible. I was looking at the same time, as well as other persons, and we did not see anything.

It is then very human, when we are thinking, some days later, of these curious things, for us to suspect ourselves.

But there are prejudices less explicable. Thus, for example, at the séance of November 28 a distinguished engineer, M. L., absolutely refused to admit the levitation of the table, in spite of the evidence. Of this my readers may judge for themselves. Here is a note which I extract from my reports:

M. L. tells me that the medium lifts the table with her feet, while resting her hands upon it. I ask Eusapia to draw back her feet under her chair. The table is lifted.

After this second levitation, M. L. declares that he is not satisfied (although neither of the feet of the medium is under a foot of the table), and that we must begin the experiment again, without having her legs touched at any point. The medium then proposes that her legs be fastened to those of M. L. A third levitation takes place, after the left leg (the incriminated one) of the medium has been bound to the left leg of M. L.

This gentleman then declares that the hypotheses he has made, in order to explain the phenomenon, are null and void, but that there must be, all the same, a trick in the thing, because he does not believe in the supernatural.

Neither do I believe in the supernatural. And yet there is no trick.

This manner of reasoning, rather common, does not seem to me scientific. It is to claim that we know the limits of the possible and of the impossible.

People who deny that the earth moves reason in just this way. That which is contrary to common sense is not impossible. Common sense is the average state of popular knowledge; that is to say, of general ignorance.

A man acquainted with the history of the sciences, and who reasons calmly, cannot succeed in understanding the ostracism to which certain sceptics subject unexplained phenomena. "It is impossible," they think. This famous common sense on which they plume themselves is nothing after all, let me say, but common opinion, which accepts habitual facts without comprehending them, and which varies from time to time. What man of good sense would formerly have admitted that we should one day be able to photograph the skeleton of a living being, or store up the voice in a phonograph, or determine the chemical composition of an inaccessible star? What was science a hundred years ago, two hundred years, three hundred? Look at astronomy five hundred years ago, and physiology, and medicine, and natural philosophy, and chemistry. In five hundred years, in a thousand years, in two thousand years, what will these sciences of ours be? And in a hundred thousand years? Yes, in a hundred thousand years, what will human intelligence be? Our actual condition will be to that what the knowledge of a dog is to that of a cultivated man; that is to say, there is no possible comparison.

We smile to-day at the science of learned men of the time of Copernicus or Christopher Columbus or Ambroise Paré, and we forget that, in a few centuries, savants will estimate us in the same fashion. There are properties of matter which are completely hidden from us, and humanity is endowed with faculties still unknown to us. We only advance very slowly in the knowledge of things.

The critics do not always give proof that they possess a very compact logical power. You speak to them of facts proved by centuries of testimony. They challenge the value of popular testimony, and declare that these uncultivated folks, these petty merchants, these manufacturers, these laborers, these peasants, are incapable of observing with any exactitude.

Some days after, you cite the savants, men whose competence has been proved in the objective sciences of observation, which attest these very facts, and you hear the sneerers answer that those savants are competent witnesses in their special lines of study and work, but in nothing apart from these.

So, after this fashion, all testimony is refused. They declare that the thing, being impossible, cannot have been observed at all.

Of course there is room for a good deal of analysis in discussing the claims of human testimony. But, if we suppress every piece of testimony, what will there be left?—our native ignorance.

But, to tell the truth, there are some of these negative gentry who are sure of everything, and who impose their aphorisms upon us with the authority of a czar giving out his ukase or edict.

From these different experiments with Eusapia Paladino, including those described in the first and second chapters, the impression is left that the phenomena observed are, to a great extent, real and undeniable; that a certain number may be produced by fraud; but that, in fact, the subject is very complex. Again, certain movements simply belong to the material order, while others belong at once to the physical order and the psychical order. All this study is vastly more complicated than people in general have any idea of. I am going to pass summarily in review other experiments made by the same medium, and shall afterwards devote a special chapter to the examination of frauds and mystifications.

Let us look, first, at other achievements of Eusapia, and select from them whatever they also have to impart in the way of instruction or caution.

CHAPTER IV

OTHER SÉANCES WITH EUSAPIA PALADINO

The medium, whose marvellous séance performances we have been describing has been the subject of a long series of observations by eminent and careful experimenters. Her endowments are indeed exceptional. When you study with Eusapia, the comparison of her powers with those of ordinary cases makes you think of the difference between a fine electrical machine operated under good atmospheric conditions and a bad one operated on a rainy day. You see more with her in one hour than in a host of faulty trials with other mediums.

Our study of these unknown forces will progress rapidly if, in place of limiting the results obtained to one or two groups, such as those which precede, we examine the totality of the observations made in the séances of this medium. My readers can then compare them with the preceding ones; they can judge, they can make their own estimates.

The documents which I am now going to print are all borrowed from the Annales des sciences psychiques and from the valuable collection of M. Albert de Rochas upon The Externalization of Motivity.

A few words, first, about the débuts of Eusapia in her mediumistic career.

Professor Chiaia, of Naples, to whom I owe it that I was able to receive Eusapia at my house and obtain the experiments reported above, was the first to bring her gifts into public notice. He first published on the 9th of August, 1888, in a journal issued at Rome, the following letter addressed to Professor Lombroso:

Dear Sir,—In your article, The Influence of Civilization upon Genius (which has incontestable beauties of style and of logic), I noticed a very happy paragraph. It seems to me to sum up the scientific movement (starting from the time when man first invented that head-breaking thing called an alphabet) down to our own day. This paragraph reads as follows:

"Every generation is prematurely ready for discoveries which it never sees born, since it does not perceive its own incapacity and the means it lacks for making further discoveries. The repetition of any one manifestation, by impressing itself upon our brains, prepares our minds and renders them less and less incapable of discovering the laws to which this manifestation is amenable. Twenty or thirty years are enough to make the whole world admire a discovery which was treated as madness at the moment when it was made. Even at the present day academic bodies laugh at hypnotism and at homœopathy. Who knows whether my friends and I, who laugh at Spiritualism, are not in error, just as hypnotized persons are? Thanks to the illusion which surrounds us, we may be incapable of seeing that we deceive ourselves; and, like many persons of unsound mind who stubbornly oppose the truth, we laugh at those who are not of our way of thinking."

Struck by this keen thought, which by chance I find adapted to a certain matter with which I have been occupied for some time, I joyfully accept it, without abatement, without any comment which might change its sense; and, confining myself to the fine old rules of chivalry, I make use of it as a challenge. The consequences of this challenge will neither be dangerous nor bloody: we shall fight fairly; and, whatever may be the results of the encounter, whether I succumb or whether I make my opponent yield, it will always be in a friendly way. The result will tend to the improvement of one of the two adversaries and will be in every way useful to the great cause of truth.

There is much talk nowadays of a special malady which is found in the human organism. We notice it every day; but we are ignorant of its cause and know not what to call it. The cry is raised that it be subjected to the examination of contemporary science; but science, in reply, only meets the request with the mocking ironical smile of a Pyrrhus, for the precise reason (as you say) that the time is not yet ripe.

But the author of the paragraph I have quoted above, of course did not write it merely for the pleasure of writing. It seems to me, on the contrary, that he would not smile disdainfully if he were invited to observe a special case that is worthy to attract the attention and to seriously occupy the mind of a Lombroso. The case I allude to is that of an invalid woman who belongs to the humblest class of society. She is nearly thirty years old and very ignorant; her look is neither fascinating nor endowed with the power which modern criminologists call irresistible; but, when she wishes, be it by day or by night, she can divert a curious group for an hour or so with the most surprising phenomena. Either bound to a seat or firmly held by the hands of the curious, she attracts to her the articles of furniture which surround her, lifts them up, holds them suspended in air like Mahomet's coffin, and makes them come down again with undulatory movements, as if they were obeying her will. She increases their weight or lessens it according to her pleasure. She raps or taps upon the walls, the ceiling, the floor, with fine rhythm and cadence. In response to the requests of the spectators, something like flashes of electricity shoot forth from her body, and envelop her or enwrap the spectators of these marvellous scenes. She draws upon cards that you hold out everything that you want—figures, signatures, numbers, sentences—by just stretching out her hand toward the indicated place. If you place in the corner of the room a vessel containing a layer of soft clay, you find after some moments the imprint in it of a small or a large hand, the image of a face (front view or profile), from which a plaster cast can be taken. In this way, portraits of a face taken at different angles have been preserved, and those who desire so to do can thus make serious and important studies.[30]

This woman rises in the air, no matter what bands tie her down. She seems to lie upon the empty air as on a couch, contrary to all the laws of gravity; she plays on musical instruments—organs, bells, tambourines—as if they had been touched by her hands or moved by the breath of invisible gnomes.

You will call that a particular case of hypnotism; you will say that this sick woman is a fakir in petticoats, that you would shut her up in a hospital. Let me beg of you, most eminent professor, not to shift the argument. As is well known, hypnotism only causes a momentary illusion; after the séance, everything takes its original form. But here the case is different. During the days which followed these marvellous scenes there remained traces and records worthy of consideration.

What do you think of that?

But allow me to continue. This woman, at times, can increase her stature by more than four inches. She is like an india-rubber doll, like an automaton of a new kind; she takes strange forms. How many legs and arms has she? We do not know. While her limbs are being held by incredulous spectators, we see other limbs coming into view, without knowing where they come from. Her shoes are too small to fit these witch-feet of her, and this particular circumstance gives rise to the suspicion of the intervention of mysterious power.

Don't laugh when I say "gives rise to the suspicion." I affirm nothing; you will have time to laugh presently.

When this woman is bound, a third arm is seen to appear, and nobody knows where it comes from. Then follows a long series of droll teasing tricks. She abstracts bonnets, watches, money, rings, pins, and produces them again with great adroitness and gayety; she takes coats and waistcoats, pulls off boots, brushes hats and puts them back upon the heads of those to whom they belong, curls and strokes mustaches, and occasionally hits you with a fist, for she also has fits of ill-temper. I said a fist, because it is always a clumsy and callous hand that strikes the blow. It has been noticed that the hand of the sorceress is small. She has large finger-nails; has a moist skin, the temperature of which varies from the natural warmth of the body to the icy chill of a corpse the touch of which makes you shiver; she allows herself to be handled, pinched, observed; and ends by rising into the air, remaining suspended there with no visible means of support, like one of those plump wooden hands hung out over the sidewalk as a sign at the shops of the glove merchants.

Plate VII. Plaster Casts of Impressions in
Clay Produced by an Unknown Force.

I swear to you that I emerge with a very calm spirit from the cave of this Circe. Freed from her enchantments, I pass all my impressions in review, and end in scepticism, although the testimony of my senses assures me that I have not been the sport of an error or of an illusion.

All these extraordinary manœuvres cannot be attributed to prestidigitation. We ought to be on our guard against every kind of trickery, and make a scrupulous investigation in order to forestall mendacity or fraud.

But the test sometimes fails; the facts do not always meet the demands of the eager and restless spectators. This is one more mystery to explain, and proves that the individual herself who works these wonders is not their sole arbiter. Undoubtedly, she possesses the exclusive power of producing these portentous feats; but they cannot materialize except with the co-operation of an unknown agent, some deus ex machina.

From all this two things result; namely, the great difficulty there is in examining the true inwardness of this stupefying piece of charlatanry, and the necessity of making a series of experiments in order to get together enough of them to illuminate the dark intellects of the dupes and to overcome the obstinacy of the wranglers.

Now you see my challenge. If you have not written the paragraph cited above simply for the pleasure of writing it; if you have the true love of science; if you are without prejudices,—you, the first alienist in Italy,—please have the kindness to take the field, and persuade yourself that you are going to measure swords with a worthy adversary.

When you can take a week's vacation, leave your beloved studies, and, instead of going into the country, show me a place where we can meet. Choose the time yourself.

You are to have a room into which you will enter alone before the experiment; there you will arrange the furniture and other objects just as you wish; you will lock the door with a key. I believe it would be useless to present the lady to you in the costume worn in the Garden of Eden, because this new Eve is incapable of retaliating upon the serpent and of seducing you.

Four gentlemen will be our seconds, as is fitting in all knightly encounters; you will choose two, and I will bring the other two.

No easier conditions were ever drawn up by the Knights of the Round Table. It is evident that, if the experiment does not succeed, I shall be able to accuse only the harsh decrees of destiny; you will consider me but as a man suffering from hallucination, who longs to be cured of his extravagances. But, if success crowns our efforts, your loyalty will impose upon you the duty of writing an article, in which, without circumlocution, reticence, or error, you will attest the reality of the mysterious phenomena and promise to investigate their causes.

If you decline this meeting, please explain to me your sentence, "The time is not yet ripe." Undoubtedly, that might apply to common intellects, but not to a Lombroso, to whom is addressed this advice of Dante: "Honor ought to close the lips of falsehood with truth."

Yours very devotedly and respectfully,
(Professor) Chiaia.

M. Lombroso did not at once accept this eloquent and witty challenge. However, we shall presently find that learned professor himself experimenting. In the mean time read what M. de Rochas tells us of Eusapia's youth:—

Her first mediumistic manifestations began at the age of puberty, when she was about thirteen or fourteen years old. This coincidence is found in almost all the cases in which the singular power of producing movements at a distance has been observed.

At this epoch of her life it was remarked that the Spiritualistic séances to which she was invited succeeded much better when she was seated at the table. But they tired and bored her, and she refrained from taking part in them for eight or nine years.

It was only in her twenty-second or twenty-third year that the Spiritualistic education of Eusapia began. It was directed by an ardent Spiritualist, M. Damiani. It was then that the personality of John King appeared, a spirit who took possession of her when she was in the trance state.[31]

This John King is said to be the brother of Crookes's Katie King, and to have been Eusapia's father in another existence. It is John who speaks when Eusapia is in her trance; when he speaks of her, he calls her "my daughter," and gives advice about the care of her person and life. M. Ochorowicz thinks this John is a personality created in the spirit of Eusapia by the union of a certain number of impressions collected in the different psychic environments in which her life has been passed. This would be almost the identical explanation for the personalities suggested by the hypnotists, and for the variations of personality observed by MM. Azam, Bourru, and Burot, et al.

Some have thought they noticed that Eusapia prepared herself, consciously or unconsciously, at the séance, by diminishing her respiration,—a very singular thing. At the same time, her pulse gradually rises from 88 to 120 pulsations a minute. Is this a practice analogous to that which the fakirs of India employ, or a simple effect of the emotion which, before every séance, Eusapia experiences?—a fact which has a strong tendency to convince the sitters, but is never sure of the production of the phenomena.

Eusapia is not hypnotized; she enters of herself into the trance state when she becomes a link in the chain of hands.

She begins to sigh deeply, then yawns and hiccoughs. A series of varied expressions passes over her face. Sometimes it takes on a demoniacal look, accompanied by a fitful laugh very much like that which Gounod gives to Mephistopheles in the opera of Faust, and which almost always precedes an important phenomenon. Sometimes her face flushes; the eyes become brilliant and liquid, and are opened wide. The smile and the motions are the mark of the erotic ecstasy. She says "mio caro" ("my dear"), leans her head upon the shoulder of her neighbor, and courts caresses when she believes that he is sympathetic. It is at this point that phenomena are produced, the success of which causes her agreeable and even voluptuous thrills. During this time her legs and her arms are in a state of marked tension, almost rigid, or even undergo convulsive contractions. Sometimes a tremor goes through her entire body.

To these states of nervous super-activity succeeds a period of depression characterized by an almost corpse-like paleness of the face (which is frequently covered with perspiration) and the almost complete inertia of her limbs. If she lifts her hand, it falls back of its own weight.

During the trance her eyes are turned up, and only the white is visible. Her presence of mind and her general consciousness are diminished or not at all in evidence. She gives no reply, or, if she does, her reply is retarded by questions. Eusapia has no recollection of what has taken place during the séances, except for states of mind bordering close on those of her normal state; and, consequently, they only relate, as a general thing, to phenomena of slight intensity.

In order to aid in the manifestations, she frequently asks that her force be increased by putting one more person in the chain. It has frequently happened to her to address a sympathetic spectator, to take his fingers and press them as if to draw something out of them, then push them abruptly away, saying that she has enough force.

In proportion as her trance increases, her sensibility to light increases. A sudden light causes difficulty in her breathing, rapid beatings of the heart, an hysterical feeling, general irritation of the nerves, pain in the head and eyes, and a trembling of the whole body, with convulsions,—except when she herself asks for light (a thing which frequently happens to her when there are interesting verifications to be made upon the subject of displaced objects), for then her attention is strongly called in other directions.

She is in constant motion during the active period of the séances. These movements may be attributed to the hysterical crises which then agitate her; but they appear to be necessary to the production of the phenomena. Every time that a movement is being caused at a distance, she imitates it, either with her hands or with her feet, and by developing a much stronger force than would be necessary for producing the movement by contact.

Here is what she herself says of her impressions when she wishes to produce a movement at a distance. She suddenly experiences an ardent desire to produce the phenomena; then she has a feeling of numbness and the goose-flesh sensation in her fingers; these sensations keep increasing; at the same time she feels in the inferior portion of the vertebral column the flowing of a current which rapidly extends into her arm as far as her elbow, where it is gently arrested. It is at this point that the phenomenon takes place.

During and after the levitations of the tables she has a feeling of pain in her knees; during and after other phenomena, in her elbows and all through her arms.

It was only in the end of February, 1891, that Professor Lombroso, whose curiosity had finally been strongly excited, decided to come to Naples to examine these curious manifestations about which everybody in Italy was speaking. The following reports by M. Ciolfi were published apropos of this visit.[32]

First Séance

A large room, selected on the first floor by these gentlemen, had been put at our disposal. M. Lombroso began by carefully examining the medium, after which we took places around a gaming table. Mme. Paladino sat at one end; at her left, MM. Lombroso and Gigli; I faced the medium, between MM. Gigli and Vizioli; then came MM. Ascensi and Tamburini, who closed the circle, the last named at the right of the medium and in contact with her.

The room was lighted by candles placed upon a table behind Mme. Paladino. MM. Tamburini and Lombroso each held a hand of the medium. Their knees touched hers, at a certain distance from the feet of the table; and her feet were under theirs.

After a rather long wait the table began to move, slowly at first,—a matter explained by the scepticism, not to say the positively hostile spirit, of those who were this night in a séance circle for the first time. Then, little by little, the movements increased in intensity. M. Lombroso proved the levitation of the table, and estimated at twelve or fifteen pounds the resistance to the pressure which he had to make with his hands in order to overcome that levitation.

This phenomenon of a heavy body sustained in the air, off its centre of gravity and resisting a pressure of twelve or fifteen pounds, very much surprised and astonished the learned gentlemen, who attributed it to the action of an unknown magnetic force.

At my request, taps and scratchings were heard in the table. This was new cause for astonishment, and led the gentlemen to themselves call for the putting out of the candles in order to ascertain whether the intensity of the noises would be increased, as had been stated. All remained seated and in contact.

In a dim light which did not hinder the most careful surveillance, violent blows were first heard at the middle point of the table. Then a bell placed upon a round table, at the distance of a yard to the left of the medium (in such a way that she was placed behind and to the right of M. Lombroso), rose into the air, and went tinkling over the heads of the company, describing a circle around our table, where it finally came to rest.

In the midst of the expressions of deep amazement which this unexpected phenomenon drew forth, M. Lombroso showed a strong desire to hear and to prove it again. Whereupon the little bell began to sound, and again made the tour of the table, redoubling its strokes upon it, to such a degree that M. Ascensi, divided between astonishment and the fear of having his fingers broken (the bell weighed fully ten ounces), hastened to rise and go and seat himself on a sofa behind me.

I kept insisting that we had to do with an intelligent force,—a matter that he persistently denied,—and that consequently there was nothing to fear. But M. Ascensi refused, under any circumstances, to take his place again at the table.

I called attention to the fact that the circle was broken, since one of the experimenters had left, and that, under penalty of no longer being able to observe the phenomena in a cool judicious spirit, it would be necessary that he should at least keep silent and motionless. M. Ascensi was very willing to pledge himself to that.

The light was extinguished, and the experiments began again. While, in response to a unanimous wish, the little bell was beginning again its tinklings and its mysterious aërial circuits, M. Ascensi, taking his cue, unknown to us, from M. Tamburini, went (unperceived, owing to the darkness), and stood at the right of the medium, and at once with a single scratch lighted a match, so successfully, as he declared, that he could see the little bell, while it was vibrating in the air, suddenly fall upon a bed about six feet and a half behind Mme. Paladino.

I will not attempt to depict for you the amazement of the learned body, the most striking manifestation of which was a rapid exchange of questions and comments upon this strange occurrence.

After some remarks I made about the intervention of M. Ascensi, who seemed likely to seriously trouble the psychic condition of the medium, the darkness was turned on again, so to speak, in order to continue the experiments.

At first it was a little work-table, small, but heavy, that moved about. It was placed at the left of Mme. Eusapia, and it was upon it that the little bell was placed at the beginning of the séance. This small piece of furniture struck against the chair on which M. Lombroso was seated, and tried to hoist itself up on our table.

In the presence of this new phenomenon, M. Vizioli gave up his place at our table to M. Ascensi and went to stand between the work-table and Mme. Eusapia, to whom he turned his back. At least he said he did all this, for we could not see him on account of the darkness. He took the little table between his two hands and tried to hold it; but, in spite of his efforts, it released itself and went rolling over the floor.

An important point to note is that, although MM. Lombroso and Tamburini had not for a moment let go of the hands of Mme. Paladino, Professor Vizioli announced that he felt a pinch in the back. General hilarity followed this declaration.

M. Lombroso stated that he had felt his chair lifted up so that he was compelled to remain standing for some time, after which his chair had been so placed as to permit him to sit down again.

He also experienced twitches upon his clothes. Then he and M. Tamburini felt the touches of an invisible hand upon their cheeks and fingers.

M. Lombroso, especially struck with the two facts of the work-table and the little bell, judged them of sufficient importance for him to put off till Tuesday his departure from Naples, which had been first fixed for Monday.

Upon his request I promised a new séance, on Monday, at the Hôtel de Genève.

Second Séance

At eight o'clock in the evening I arrived at the Hôtel de Genève, accompanied by the medium, Eusapia Paladino. We were received under the colonnade by MM. Lombroso, Tamburini, Ascensi, and several other persons whom they had invited; namely Professors Gigli, Limoncelli, Vizioli, and Bianchi (superintendent of the insane asylum at Sales), Dr. Penta, and a young nephew of M. Lombroso, who lives at Naples.

After the customary introductions, we were asked to go up to the highest story in the house, where we were introduced into a very large room with an alcove. Curtains, or portières, were let down across the front of the alcove. Behind the curtains at a distance of about three feet and a half, measured by MM. Lombroso and Tamburini, there was placed, in this alcove, a round table, with a porcelain salver filled with flour, in the hope of obtaining face-imprints in it. The alcove also contained a tin trumpet, writing-paper, and a sealed envelope containing a sheet of white paper, to see if we could not get direct writing on it.

The gentlemen inspected the alcove with extreme care, in order to assure themselves that there was nothing there of a fixed-up, suspicious nature.

Mme. Paladino sat down at the table, a little less than two feet from the alcove curtains, turning her back to them. Then, at her request, she had her body and her feet tied to her chair by means of cloth bands. This was effected by three members of the company, who left only her arms free. That done, places were taken at the table in the following order: on the left of Mme. Eusapia, M. Lombroso; then, in succession, M. Vizioli, myself, the nephew of M. Lombroso, MM. Gigli, Limoncelli, Tamburini; finally, Dr. Penta, who completed the circle and sat at the right of the medium.

MM. Ascensi and Bianchi refused to form part of the circle, and remained standing behind MM. Tamburini and Penta. I paid little attention to these two, being certain that their action was a premeditated combination in order to redouble the vigilance. I simply recommended that, while they were observing with extreme care, each should remain quiet.

The experiments began in candlelight strong enough to light up the whole room. After a long wait the table began to move, slowly at first, then more energetically. However, the movements remained intermittent, labored, and much less vigorous than at Saturday's séance.

The table volunteered a request by taps of its leg designating the letters of the alphabet, that MM. Limoncelli and Penta should exchange places. This exchange effected, the table called for the turning out of lights.

A moment after, and with more force this time, the movements of the table began again. Suddenly, in the midst of these, violent blows were heard. The chair placed at M. Lombroso's right tried to climb up on the table, then hung suspended upon the arm of the learned professor. All of a sudden the curtains of the alcove were shaken, and swung forward over the table in such a way as to envelop M. Lombroso, who was very much moved by such a wonder, as he himself has declared.

All these phenomena, happening at long intervals, in the darkness, and in the midst of noisy conversation, were not estimated at their true worth. It was thought that they were only the effects of chance or were jests of some member of the company.

While we are all waiting and discussing the import of the phenomena and the greater or less value that should be set on them, the noise of the fall of an object is heard. When the room is lighted, there is found at our feet under the table the trumpet which had been placed on the round table in the alcove behind the curtains. This circumstance, which MM. Bianchi and Ascensi receive with a burst of laughter, surprises the experimenters, and has the effect of more completely fixing their attention.

The room is darkened again, and, by urgent request some fugitive glimmers of light are seen to appear and disappear at long intervals. This phenomenon impressed MM. Bianchi and Ascensi, and put an end to their incessant railleries, so much so that they came and formed a part of the circle. At the moment of the appearance of the gleams, and even some time after they had ceased to show themselves, MM. Limoncelli and Tamburini, at the right of the medium, said that they were touched in several places by a hand. M. Lombroso's young nephew, absolutely sceptical, who had taken a seat by the side of M. Limoncelli, declared that he felt the touch of a flesh-and-blood hand, and asked with some impetuosity who did that. He forgot—being not only sceptical, but artless—that, like himself, all the persons present were helping to form the chain of hands and were in mutual contact.

It was getting late, and the lack of homogeneity in the circle was abridging the phenomena. Under these conditions I thought I ought to end the séance and cause the candles to be lighted.

When MM. Limoncelli and Vizioli were taking leave, the medium being still seated and bound, and all of us were standing around the table conversing about the luminous phenomena, and comparing the scattered and feeble effects obtained in this soirée with those of the Saturday preceding, and seeking the reason for this difference, we heard noise in the alcove, and saw the portières which enclosed it vigorously shaken, and the round table which was behind them slowly advancing toward Mme. Paladino, still seated and bound.

On seeing this strange, unexpected phenomena occur in full light, we were all stupefied with amazement. M. Bianchi and M. Lombroso's nephew dashed into the alcove, under the impression that some person concealed there was producing the movement of the portières and the round table. Their astonishment was unbounded when they ascertained that there was no one there, and that, under their very eyes, the table continued to glide over the floor in the direction of the medium. That is not all. Professor Lombroso observed that, while the table was in movement, the salver on it had been turned upside down without a single particle of the flour which it contained being spilled; and he added that no prestidigitator would have been able to accomplish such a feat. In the presence of these phenomena taking place as they did, after the breaking up of the circle, in such a way as to eliminate the hypothesis of a magnetic current, Professor Bianchi, in obedience to the love of truth, confessed that it was he who, for the sake of a joke, had contrived and brought about the fall of the tin trumpet, but that in the presence of such achievements as this he could no longer be sceptical, and was going to apply himself to the study of them in order to investigate their causes.

Professor Lombroso complained of the trick, and said to M. Bianchi that, as between professors met in order to make scientific studies and researches in common, mystifying pranks like this could not but cast a slur upon the respect due to science.

Professor Lombroso, who was a prey both to doubt and to ideas of his own which tormented his mind, made an engagement to be present at further meetings on his return to Naples in the following summer.

M. Ciolfi, having sent these two reports to M. Lombroso, the eminent professor of Turin confirmed their accuracy in the following letter, dated June 25, 1891:—

Dear Sir,—The two reports that you have sent me are of the utmost accuracy. I add that, before we had seen the salver turned over, the medium had announced that she would sprinkle the faces of those who sat by her with flour; and everything leads to the belief that such was her intention, but that she was not able to realize it,—a new proof, to my mind, of her perfect honesty, especially considering her semi-unconsciousness.

I am filled with confusion and regret that I combated with so much persistence the possibility of the facts called Spiritualistic. I say facts, because I am still opposed to the theory.

Please give my greetings to M. E. Chiaia, and, if it is possible, get M. Albini to examine the visual field and the inner recesses of the eye of the medium, about which I desire to inform myself.

Yours very truly,
C. Lombroso.

M. Lombroso soon after published his experiences and reflections, in an article in the Annales des sciences psychiques (1892) which ends thus:

None of these facts, (which we must admit, because no one can deny things which he has seen) is of such a nature as to lead us to form for their explanation an hypothesis of a world different from that admitted by the neuro-pathologists.

Above all, we must not forget that Mme. Eusapia is a neuropath; that in her childhood she received a blow on the left parietal bone, which produced a hole so deep that you could put your finger in it; that she remained subject to attacks of epilepsy, catalepsy, and hysteria, which take place especially during the séance phenomena; and that, finally, she has a remarkable obtuseness of touch.

Well, I do not see anything inadmissible in this,—that in the case of hypnotic and hysterical persons the excitation of certain centres, which become powerful by the paralysis of all the others and then provoke a transposition and a transmission of physical forces, may also produce a transformation in luminous force or in motive force. Thus we understand how the force in a medium which I shall call cortical or cerebral may, for example, lift the table, pull somebody's beard, hit him, caress him, etc.

During the transposition of senses due to hypnotism,—when, for example, the nose and the chin see (and that is a fact which I observed with my own eyes), and when for some moments all the other senses are paralyzed, the cortical centre of vision, which has its seat in the brain, acquires such an energy that it supersedes the eye. It is this which we have been able to prove, Ottolenghi and I, in the case of three hypnotized persons, by making use of the lens and of the prism.

The phenomena observed would be explained, according to this theory, by a transformation of the powers of the medium. Let us continue our account of the experiments.

Taking into consideration the testimony of Professor Lombroso, several savants—including MM. Schiaparelli, director of the observatory at Milan; Gerosa, professor of physics; Ermacora, doctor of natural philosophy; Aksakof, councillor of state to the Emperor of Russia; Charles du Prel, doctor of philosophy in Munich; Dr. Richet, of Paris, and Professor Buffern—met in October, 1892, in the apartment of M. Finzi, at Milan, to renew these experiments. M. Lombroso was present at several of the soirées. There were seventeen in all.

The experimenters present signed the following long declaration:

The results obtained did not always come up to our expectations. Not that we did not secure a large number of facts apparently or really important and marvellous; but, in the greater number of cases, we were not able to apply the rules of experimental science which, in other fields of observation, are regarded as indispensable in order to arrive at certain and incontestable results. The most important of these rules consists in changing, one after the other, the methods of experiment, in such a way as to bring out the true cause, or at least the true conditions of all the events. Now it is precisely from this point of view that our experiments seem to us still incomplete.

It is very true that the medium, to prove her good faith, often voluntarily proposed to change some feature of one or the other experiment, and frequently herself took the initiative in these changes. But this applied only to things that were apparently indifferent, according to our way of seeing. On the contrary; the changes which seemed to us necessary to put the true character of the results beyond doubt, either were not accepted as possible or ended in uncertain results.

We do not believe we have the right to explain these things by the aid of insulting assumptions, which many still find to be the simplest explanation, and of which some journals have made themselves champions. We think, on the contrary, that these experiments are concerned with phenomena of an unknown nature, and we confess that we do not know what the conditions are that are required to produce them. To desire to fix these conditions in our own right and out of our own head would be as extravagant as to presume to make the experiment of Torricelli's barometer with a tube closed at the bottom, or to make electrostatic experiments in an atmosphere saturated with humidity, or to take a photograph by exposing the sensitive plate in full light before placing it in the camera. However, it is a fact that the impossibility of varying the experiments in our own way has diminished the worth and the interest of the results obtained, by depriving them of that rigorous demonstration which we are right in demanding in cases of this kind, or, rather, to which we ought to aspire.

The following are the principal phenomena observed.

Levitation of One Side of the Table

We agreed to have the medium sit alone at the table, in full light, her two hands placed on its upper surface and her sleeves drawn back to the elbows.

We remained standing about her, and the space above and under the table was well lighted. Under these conditions the table rose at an angle of twenty to forty degrees, and so remained for some minutes, while the medium was holding her legs stretched out and striking her feet one against the other. When we pressed with the hand upon the lifted side of the table, we experienced a considerable elastic resistance.

The table was suspended by one of its ends to a dynamometer which was coupled to a cord: this cord was tied to a small beam supported upon two wardrobes.

Under these conditions, the end of the table having been lifted six and a half inches, the dynamometer showed seventy-seven pounds. The medium sat at the same narrow end of the table, with her hands wholly on the table, to the right and the left of the point where the dynamometer was attached. Our hands formed the chain upon the table, without pressure: they would not have been able in any case to do more than increase the pressure brought to bear on the table. On the contrary, the desire was expressed that the pressure should diminish, and soon the table began to rise on the side of the dynamometer. M. Gerosa, who was following the marks on the apparatus, announced this diminution, expressed by the successive figures 7½, 4½, 2½, 0 (pounds). At the last the levitation was such that the dynamometer rested horizontally on the table.

Then we changed the conditions by putting our hands under the table. The medium, especially, put hers, not under the edge, where it might have touched the vertical border-board and exercised a push downwards, but under the rail that unites the feet, and touched this, not with the palm, but with the back of the hand. Thus all the hands together could only have diminished the traction upon the dynamometer. Upon the desire being expressed to see this traction augment, it increased from 7½ pounds to 13 pounds. During all these experiments each of the medium's feet rested under the foot of her nearest neighbor to right or left.

Complete Levitation of the Table.

It was natural to conclude that if the table, in apparent contradiction to the law of gravity, was able to rise partly, it would be able to rise entirely from the floor. As a matter of fact, this is what happened. This levitation, one of the most frequent phenomena that occur in the experiments with Eusapia, stood a most satisfactory examination.

The phenomenon always materialized under the following conditions: the persons seated about the table place their hands on it, and form the chain; each hand of the medium is held by the adjacent hand of her two neighbors; each of her feet remains under the feet of her neighbor, who also press her knees with theirs. She is seated, as usual, at one of the small ends of the table, a position least favorable for a mechanical levitation. At the end of several minutes the table makes a side movement, rises first to the right, then to the left, and finally mounts off of its four feet straight into the air, and lies there horizontally (as if it were floating on a liquid), ordinarily at a height of from 4 to 8 inches (in exceptional cases from 24 to 27 inches); then falls back and rests on its four feet. It frequently remains in the air for several seconds, and while there also makes undulatory motions, during which the position of the feet under the table can be thoroughly examined. During the levitation the right hand of the medium often leaves the table, as well as that of her neighbor, and is held in the air above.

In order the better to observe this thing, we removed one by one the persons placed at the table, recognizing the truth that the chain formed by several persons was neither necessary for this phenomenon nor for others. Finally, we left only a single person with the medium, seated at her left. This person placed her foot upon Eusapia's two feet and one hand upon her knees, and held with her other hand the left hand of the medium. Eusapia's right hand was on the table, in full view,—though sometimes she held it in the air during the levitation.

Plate VIII. Drawing from Photograph,
Showing Method of Control by Professors
Lombroso and Richet of Eusapia.
Table Completely Raised.

As the table remained in the air for several seconds, it was possible to obtain several photographs of the performance. Three pieces of photographic apparatus were working together in different parts of the room, and the illumination was furnished by a magnesium light at the opportune moment. Twenty photographs were obtained, some of which are excellent. Upon one of them ([Pl. VIII]) we see Professor Richet, who holds one hand, the knees, and a foot of the medium. The other hand of the latter is held by Professor Lombroso. The table is shown horizontally lifted,—a fact proved by the interval between the extremity of each foot and the extremity of the corresponding projected shadow.

In all the experiments which precede, we gave our attention principally to a careful inspection of the position of the hands and the feet of the medium; and, in this respect, we believe we can say that they were safe from all criticism. Still, a scrupulous sincerity compels us to mention the fact to which we did not begin to call attention before the evening of October 5, but which probably must have occurred also in the preceding experiments. It consists in this, that the four feet of the table could not be considered as perfectly isolated during the levitation, because one of them at least was in contact with the lower edge of the medium's dress.

On this evening it was remarked that a little before the levitation, Eusapia's skirt was inflated on the left side until it touched the foot of the nearest table. One of us having been charged with the duty of hindering this contact, the table was unable to rise as before, and it only did rise when the observer intentionally permitted the contact to take place. This is shown in the photographs taken during this experiment, and also in those in which the table-foot in question is visible (after a fashion) at its lower extremity. The reader will see that at the same time the medium had her hand placed upon the upper surface of the table, and on the same side, in such a way that this table-foot was under her influence, as much in its lower portion, by means of the dress, as in the upper portion, by means of the hand.

Now in what way is it possible for the contact of a light dress-stuff with the lower extremity of the foot of a table to assist in the levitation? That is something we do not know. The hypothesis that the dress may conceal a solid support, skilfully introduced, which may serve as a temporary support for the foot of the table, is a very poor one.

In fact, to keep the whole table resting on this one foot through the influence that a single hand could produce upon the upper surface of the table would require that the hand exercise upon the table a very strong pressure, one that we cannot suppose Eusapia capable of, even during three or four seconds.

We convinced ourselves of this by ourselves making proof of it with the same table.[33]

Movements of Objects at a Distance, without Contact with Any of the Persons Present

1. Spontaneous movements of objects.

These phenomena were observed several times during our séances. It often happened that a chair, placed for this purpose not far from the table, between the medium and one of her neighbors, began to move about, and sometimes came up to the table. A remarkable instance occurred in the second séance, everything being all the time in full light. A heavy chair, weighing twenty-two pounds, which stood a yard from the table and behind the medium, came up to M. Schiaparelli, who was seated next the medium. He rose to put it back in its place; but scarcely was he seated when the chair advanced a second time toward him.

2. Movement of the table without contact.

It was desirable to obtain this phenomenon as a matter of experiment. For that purpose, the table being placed upon casters, the feet of the medium were watched, as has been said, and all of the sitters formed the chain with their hands, including those of the medium. When the table began to move, we all lifted our hands, without breaking the chain, and the table thus isolated made several movements. This experiment was several times renewed.

The Fetching of Different Objects, the Hands of the Medium Being tied to those of her Neighbors.

In order to assure ourselves that we were not the victims of a trick, we tied the hands of the medium by a string to those of her two neighbors, in such a way that the movements of the four hands would reciprocally control each other. The length of the cord between the hands of the medium was from eight to twelve inches, and between each one of her hands and the hands of her neighbors four inches. This distance of space was purposely arranged in order that the hands of the neighboring persons might, in addition, readily hold those of the medium during the convulsive movements which usually agitate her.

The tying was done in the following way: we took three turns of the string around each wrist of the medium, without leaving any slack, but drawn so tightly as almost to give her pain,[34] and then we tied two simple knots. This was done in order that, if by any artifice the hand was able to release itself from the string, the three turns would work against it and the hand could not get back again under the string as it was before.

A little bell was placed upon a chair behind her. The chain was formed, and her hands as well as her feet were held as usual. The room was darkened in answer to the request that the little bell should at once sound, after which we were to untie the medium. Immediately we heard the chair move, describe a curve upon the floor, approach the table, and presently place itself upon it. The bell rang, then was thrown upon the table. The light having been at once turned on, we ascertained that the knots of the string were in perfect order. It is clear that the fetching on of the chair was not produced by the action of the hands of the medium.

Impressions of Fingers obtained on Smoked Paper.

In order to decide if we had to do with a human hand ... or with any other way of dealing, we fixed a sheet of paper, blackened with the smoke of a lamp, upon the table, on the side opposite that of the medium, and expressed a wish that the hand would leave an impression on it, that the hand of the medium should remain unsoiled, and that the lampblack be transferred to the hands of one of us. The hands of the medium were held by those of MM. Schiaparelli and Du Prel. The chain was made in the darkness, then we heard a hand lightly tap upon the table, and presently M. Du Prel announced that his left hand, which he held on the right hand of M. Finzi, had had the sensation of fingers rubbing it. As soon as the room was lighted, we found upon the paper several imprints of fingers, and the back of M. Du Prel's hand was covered with lampblack; but the hands of the medium, examined then and there, had no trace of it. This experience was repeated three times. When we insisted upon having a complete impression, we obtained five fingers upon a second sheet of paper, and upon a third the impression of almost an entire left hand. After that the back of M. Du Prel's hand was completely blackened, the hands of the medium remaining perfectly clean.

Apparition of Hands upon a Dimly Lighted Background

We placed upon the table a large cardboard covered with a phosphorescent substance (sulphide of calcium), and we placed other pieces of cardboard upon chairs in different parts of the chamber. Under such conditions we saw very plainly the outline of a hand imposed on the cardboard of the table. Upon the background formed by the other pieces we saw the shadow of the hand pass and repass around us.

On the evening of September 21 one of us several times saw the image, not of one, but of two hands at once, thrown upon the glass panes of a feebly illuminated window (outside it was night, but the darkness was not complete). These hands exhibited a rapid tremulous motion, but not so rapid as to hinder us from seeing the outline clearly. They were wholly opaque and were thrown upon the window as absolutely black silhouettes.

This simultaneous appearance of two hands is very significant, for they cannot be explained on the hypothesis of a trick of the medium, who would not have been able in any way to free more than one of her hands, owing to the surveillance of those who sat beside her. The same conclusion applies to the clapping of two hands, one against the other, which was several times heard in the air.

The Levitation of the Medium to the Top of the Table

We regard this levitation as among the most important and most significant of Spiritualistic achievements. It took place twice, on September 28 and October 3. The medium was seated at one end of the table, uttering deep groans, and was lifted up with her chair and placed upon the table, not moving from her position, those next her still holding her hands as she rose.

On the evening of September 28, while her two hands were held by MM. Richet and Lombroso, the medium complained of their grasping her under the arm. Then, in a state of trance she said, with the changed voice which she usually has while in this state, "Now I bring up my medium upon the table." At the end of two or three seconds the chair, with the medium seated in it, was not thrown, but lifted with precaution and placed upon the table. MM. Richet and Lombroso are sure they did not assist her in this ascension. After she had spoken, being all the time in a state of trance, the medium announced her descent, and (M. Finzi being substituted for M. Lombroso) was placed upon the floor with care and precision, MM. Richet and Finzi following her movements without at all assisting them.

Moreover, during the descent, both gentlemen felt a hand touching them lightly several times upon the head. On the evening of October 3 the same phenomenon was repeated in similar circumstances.

Touchings

Some of these merit particular notice, owing to a circumstance capable of giving us an interesting notion of their possible origin. Our first business is to describe the touchings which were felt by persons beyond the reach of the hands of the medium. Thus, on the evening of October 6, M. Gerosa, who was separated from the medium by three places (about four feet, the medium being a little to one side and M. Gerosa in one of the adjacent corners at the opposite short end of the table), having lifted his hand that it might be touched, felt a hand strike his own several times to make him lower it; and, as he persisted, he was hit with a trumpet, which an instant before had been making sounds in the air.

In the second place, we must note touchings which constitute very delicate operations, and which cannot be made in the darkness with the precision which we have noted in them. Twice (on September 16 and 21) M. Schiaparelli had his spectacles removed from his nose and laid down on the table before another person. These glasses are fixed to the ears by means of two springs, and a certain amount of attention is necessary in order to remove them, even to one working in full light. Yet they were removed in complete darkness with so much delicacy and promptness that the said experimenter only perceived the loss of them when he no longer had the usual feeling of them on his nose, on his temples, and behind his ears, and he was obliged to feel with his hands in order to be sure that they were no longer in their usual place.

Many other touchings produced similar effects, and were executed with extreme delicacy; for example, when one of the company felt his hair and beard stroked.

In all of the innumerable manœuvres executed by mysterious hands, there was never any awkward stumbling or collision to be noted, though ordinarily this is inevitable when one is working in the dark. I may add, in this connection, that bodies tolerably heavy and bulky, such as chairs and vessels full of clay, were deposited upon the table without having collided with any of the numerous hands resting upon the table,—a particularly difficult thing in the case of chairs which, owing to their dimensions, occupied a large part of the table. A chair was turned over on its face upon the table and lay there at full length without causing the least annoyance to anybody; and yet it covered almost the entire surface.

Contact with a Human Face

One of us having expressed the wish to be kissed, felt before his very mouth the peculiar quick sounds of a kiss, but not accompanied by any contact of lips. This happened twice. On three different occasions one of the experimenters felt the touch of a face with hair and beard. The feeling of the skin was exactly that of a living man. The hair was much coarser and more bristly than that of the medium, and the beard seemed very soft and delicate.

Such are the experiments made at Milan in 1892 by the group of savants cited above.

How can we help admitting, after the reading of this new official report, the following things?

1. The complete levitation of the tables.

2. The levitation of the medium.

3. The movement of objects without contact.

4. Accurate and delicate touches made by invisible organs.

5. The formation of hands and even of human figures.

These phenomena take their place in this book as things which were observed with the most scrupulous care.

Let us note also the action of the little piece of furniture (chair or round table), which tries to climb up on one of the company or upon the large table,—a thing also observed by myself.

Although the savants of the Milan group regretted that they did not make experiments, but only observations (I said above (p. 20), what we ought to think about this), the facts were none the less proved.

I will add that after the reading of this procès-verbal, the cautious reserves of M. Schiaparelli seem exaggerated. If fraud has sometimes crept in, still what has been accurately observed remains safe and sound and is an acquisition to science.

Our medium, Eusapia, has been the subject of a fruitful series of experiments. Let me also mention those of Naples in 1893, under the direction of M. Wagner, Professor of Zoölogy at the University of St. Petersburg; that of Rome in 1893-1894, under the direction of M. de Siemiradski, correspondent of the Institute; those of Varsovie, from the 25th of November, 1893, to the 15th of January, 1894, at the house of Dr. Ochorowicz; those of Carqueiranne and of l'île Roubaud, in 1894, at the house of Professor Richet; those of Cambridge in August, 1895, at the house of Mr. Myers; those of the villa de l'Agnellas, from the 20th to the 29th of September, 1895, at the house of Colonel de Rochas; those of Auteuil, in September, 1896, at the house of M. Marcel Mangin, etc. It would be entirely superfluous and an unconscionably long task to analyze them all. Let us merely select some special characteristic instances.

In the report of M. de Siemiradski we read as follows:

In the corner of the hall there was a piano, placed to the left of Ochorowicz and Eusapia, and a little in the rear. Some one desired to hear the keyboard touched. We at once hear the moving of the piano. Ochorowicz can even see the displacement, thanks to a ray of light which falls upon the polished surface of the instrument through the window shutters. The piano then opens noisily, and we hear the bass notes of the keyboard sounding. I utter aloud my desire to hear high notes and low notes touched at the same time, as a proof that the unknown force can act at the two ends of the keyboard. My wish is granted, and we hear bass notes and treble notes sounded at the same time, which seems to prove the action of two distinct hands. Then the instrument advances toward us. It presses against our group, and we are obliged to get up and move back with our experiment table, and we do not stop until we have thus moved back several yards.

A glass half full of water, which stands on a buffet, out of reach of our hands, was carried by an unknown power to the lips of Ochorowicz, Eusapia, and another person, who all drank of it. This performance took place in complete darkness and with astonishing precision.

We were able to prove the existence of a real hand not belonging to any one present. We did it by means of the plaster cast and mould, as follows:

Having placed a heavy basin filled with modelling-clay upon the large table in the middle of the dining-room, we sat down with Eusapia around the little experiment-table more than a yard distant. After some minutes of waiting, the basin came of itself and stood on our table! Eusapia groaned, writhed, and trembled in all her limbs; yet not for a moment did her hands quit ours. Then she cried, "E fatto" ("It is done"). The candle is lighted again, and we find an irregular hollowed place upon the surface of the clay. This hollow place, afterward filled with plaster, gives us a perfect cast of the contracted fingers of a hand.

We placed upon the table a plate smeared with lampblack. The mysterious hand left there the print of the end of its fingers. The hands of the experimenters, including those of Eusapia, remained white. We next induced the medium to reproduce the impression of her own hand upon another lamp-smoked plate. She did so. The layer of soot removed by her fingers had deeply blackened them. A comparison of the two plates enabled us to prove a striking resemblance,—that is to say (to speak more accurately), the identity of the arrangement of the spiral circles in the epidermis of the two hands; and we know that the arrangement of these circles is unique in every individual. This is a particular which speaks eloquently in favor of the hypothesis of the double personality of the medium.

In order mechanically to control the movements of Eusapia's feet, Dr. Ochorowicz employed the following piece of apparatus. Two deep and narrow cigar-boxes were placed under the table, and Eusapia put her unshod feet into them. The boxes had double bottoms and were provided with an electrical arrangement of such a nature that she could move her feet freely for some inches in every direction; but, if she wished to withdraw them from the box, the electric bell tinkled before she had moved them half way to the top, and only stopped when they were returned to their place. Eusapia cannot remain utterly quiet during the séances. So she was given a certain freedom of movement; but it was impossible for her to make use of her legs for lifting the table. Under these conditions the table, weighing twenty-five pounds, rose up twice without the bell being heard. During the second levitation the table was photographed underneath. (The four feet of the table are seen in the photograph. The left is in contact with Eusapia's dress, as is always the case when the light is strong; but the boxes holding the feet of the medium are in their place.) Then the experimenters verified the fact that the bell was heard, not only when she removed her foot, but when she lifted it too high in the box.

After all these demonstrations, I will not do my readers the wrong of thinking that the levitation of the table is not MORE THAN PROVED for all of them.

Here, now, is a curious observation relative to the inflation of the curtain: Ten persons were seated around the table. Eusapia had her back turned to the curtain; she was controlled by General Starynkiewicz and Dr. Watraszewski.

I was seated (writes M. Glowacki-Prus) opposite Eusapia, near Mlle. X., a very nervous person and easily hypnotized. The séance had lasted for about an hour, with numerous and varied phenomena. Eusapia, as always, was in a semi-conscious state. Suddenly she awoke, and Mlle. X. uttered a cry. Knowing what this cry meant, I grasped her hand with great force and then put my arm about her; for this girl becomes very strong in certain states. The room was well lighted, and this is what we saw (something, be it noted, which I myself experienced by my hands). Every time that the muscles of Mlle. X. became more tense and rigid, the curtain which hung opposite her, at a distance of from seven to ten feet, made a movement. The following table indicates the details of this correlation:

This tabular view presents the striking proportion which I ascertained between the tension of the medium's muscles (who in this case was Mlle. X.) and the mechanical work of the curtain in movement.

This experiment is so much the more interesting since it was not Eusapia who made it; and, if she had a trick for inflating the portières, it was not employed in this case. We already know that she had none.

Here are the conclusions of M. Ochorowicz:

1. I did not find any proofs in favor of the Spiritualistic hypothesis; that is to say, in favor of the intervention of an intelligence other than that of the medium. "John" is for me only a psychic double of the medium. Consequently, I am not a Spiritualist.

2. Mediumistic phenomena are confirmatory of "magnetism" as opposed to "hypnotism"; that is to say, they imply the existence of a fluidic action apart from suggestion.

3. Still, suggestion plays an important rôle in them, and the medium is only a mirror reflecting the forces and the ideas of those present. Moreover, she possesses the power of realizing her own somnambulistic visions or those suggested by the company, simply by the process of externalizing them.

4. No purely physical force explains these phenomena, which are always of a psycho-physical nature, having a centre of action in the mind of the medium.

5. The phenomena proved do not contradict either mechanics in general or the law of the conservation of forces in particular. The medium acts at the expense of her own proper powers and at the expense of those of the persons present.

6. There exists a series of transitions between mediumship of an inferior kind (automatism, unconscious fraud) and mediumship of a superior kind or externalization of motivity (action at a distance without visible and palpable connecting link).

7. The hypothesis of a "fluidic double" (astral body), which, under certain conditions, detaches itself and acts independently of the body of the medium, seems necessary for the explanation of the greater part of the phenomena. According to this conception, the moving of objects without contact would be produced by the fluidic limbs of the medium.[35]

Sir Oliver Lodge, an eminent English physicist, rector of the University of Birmingham, says that, on the invitation of Dr. Richet, he went to attend the experiments at Carqueiranne, thoroughly convinced that he should not see there any instance of physical movement without contact but that what he saw completely convinced him that phenomena of that kind can have, under certain conditions, a real and objective existence. He vouches for the following verified facts:

1. Movements of a chair at a distance, seen by the light of the moon, and in circumstances which proved that there was no mechanical connection.

2. The inflation and the movement of a curtain in the absence of wind or of any other ostensible cause.

3. The automatic winding up and moving about of a music-box.

4. Sounds proceeding from a piano and from an accordion which had not been touched.

5. A key turned in a lock, on the inside of the room where the séances were held, then placed upon the table, and again put back into the lock.

6. The overturning, by means of slow and correct evolutions, of a heavy moving table, which was afterwards found thus turned upside down.

7. The levitation of a heavy table, under conditions in which it would have been impossible to lift it in ordinary circumstances.

8. The appearance of blue marks upon a table previously spotless, and this done without the help of the ordinary methods of writing.

9. The sensation of blows, as if some one were striking the head, the arms, or the back, while the head, the hands, and the feet of the medium were plainly in view or held apart from the portions of the body that were touched.

It is plain enough what part the above statements play in our argument. They are throughout simply confirmations of the experiments described above.

At Cambridge, Eusapia was taken in the very act of deception; namely, the substitution of hands. While the controllers believed that they were holding her two hands, they were only holding one of them: the other was free. So these experimenters at Cambridge unanimously declared that "everything was fraud, from the beginning to the end," in Eusapia Paladino's twenty séances.

In a paper sent to M. de Rochas, M. Ochorowicz contested this radical conclusion, for several reasons. Eusapia is very susceptible to suggestion, and, by indulging her inclination to fraud and not hindering it, they incite her to it still more by a kind of tacit encouragement. Moreover, her fraud is generally of an unconscious kind. I append here, as a particular illustration of this, a rather typical story about her:

One evening, at Varsovie (says M. Ochorowicz), Eusapia is sleeping in her chamber by the side of ours. I have not yet gone to sleep, when suddenly I hear her rising and moving about with bare feet in the drawing-room. Then she enters her chamber again and approaches our door. I make a sign to Mme. Ochorowicz, who has waked up, to be quiet and to observe carefully what is going to take place. A moment after, Eusapia gently opens the door, comes up to my wife's toilet-table, opens a drawer, shuts it, and goes away, carefully avoiding making any noise. I hastily dress myself and we enter her chamber. Eusapia is quietly sleeping. The light of our candle seems to wake her.

"What were you hunting for in our sleeping-room?"

"I? I haven't left this place."

Seeing the uselessness of further questions, we go to bed again, advising her to sleep quietly.

Next day I ask her the same question. She is very much astonished and even troubled (she blushes slightly).

"How should I dare," said she, "to enter your chamber during the night?"

This accusation is very painful to her, and she tries to persuade us by all kinds of insufficient reasons that we are wrong. She denies the whole thing, and I am obliged to admit that she does not remember getting up or even having conversed with us (it was just another somnambulistic state).

I take a little table, and direct Eusapia to put her hands on it.

"Very well," says she, "John will tell you that I don't lie."

I then ask the following questions:

"Is it you, John, who came into our sleeping chamber last night?"

"No."

"Was it the chambermaid?" (I suggest this idea for the express purpose of testing John's veracity.)

"No," says he.

"Was it the medium herself?"

"Yes," says the table.—"No, it is not true," exclaims Eusapia, seeing her hope banished—"Yes," replies the table, forcibly.

"Was she in the trance state?"

"No."

"In her normal state?"

"No."

"In a spontaneous somnambulistic state?"

"Yes."

"For what purpose?"

"She was hunting matches; for she was frightened in her sleep, and didn't want to sleep without light."

Sure enough, there were always matches in the drawer opened by Eusapia, except on this particular night. She therefore returned without getting any.

While listening to the explanation of the table, Eusapia shrugged her shoulders, but protested no longer.

Here, then, is a woman who, from time to time, has the power of passing from one psychical state to another. Is it just to accuse such a creature of premeditated fraud, without the slightest medical and psychological examination, without the least attempt at verification?...

M. Ochorowicz adds here that, so far as he is concerned, the phenomena are not produced by a personality different from that of the medium, nor by a new independent occult force; but it is a special psychic condition which permits the vital dynamism of the medium (the astral body of the occultists) to act at a distance, under certain exceptional conditions. It is the only hypothesis which seems necessary in the actual state of our knowledge.

Why does the medium so often try to release her hand? So far as the Cambridge experimenters are concerned, the cause is very simple and always the same: she releases her hand in order to indulge in tricks. As a matter of fact, the reasons why she frees her hand are many and complicated.

Dr. Ochorowicz's explanations are as follows:

1. Let me observe, in the first place, that Eusapia frequently releases her hand for no other reason than to touch her head, which is in pain at the moment of the manifestations. It is a natural reflex movement; and, in her case, it is a fixed habit. Since, more often than not, she does not notice that she is doing it, or at least fails to give warning to her controller, the darkness justifies suspicions.

2. Immediately before the mediumistic doubling of her personality, her hand is affected with hyperæsthesia and, consequently, the pressure of the hand of another makes her ill, especially in the dorsal quarter. She then most frequently places the hand which is to be mediumistically active above and not below that of the controller, trying to touch it as little as possible. When the doubling of the personality is complete, and the dynamic hand more or less materialized, that of the medium contracts and rests heavily upon the controller, exactly at the moment that the phenomenon takes place. She is then almost insensible and all shrunken together. In very good mediumistic conditions the doubling is easy and the initial hyperæsthesia of short duration. In this case the medium allows her hand to be completely covered and the feet of the controllers to be upon hers, as was always the case in our séances at Rome in 1893; but, since that time, she can no longer endure that position, and rather prefers to be held by hands under the table.

3. In accordance with psychological laws, the hand always proceeds automatically in the direction of our thoughts (Cumberlandism). The medium acts by auto-suggestion, and the order to go as far as an indicated point is given by her brain simultaneously to the dynamic hand and the corporeal hand, since in the normal state they form only one. And since, immediately after the hyperæsthesia, the muscular sensation is excited and the hand grows benumbed, it sometimes happens (especially when the medium proceeds carelessly and does not properly govern her movements) that the dynamic hand remains in place, while her own hand goes in the indicated direction. The former, not being yet materialized, produces only a semblance of pressure; and another person, able to see a little in the darkness, will perceive nothing of it, and will even be able to ascertain by touch the absence of the medium's hand from that of the controller. At the same time the hand of the medium is going in the direction of the object; and still it may happen that it does not really reach it, acting, as it does, at a distance, by a dynamic prolongation.

It is in this way that I explain the cases in which the hand, being released, has not yet been able to reach the point aimed at (physically inaccessible), as well as the numerous experiments made at Varsovie in full light, with a little bell hung in different ways, with compasses of different forms, with a very small table, etc.,—experiments in which Eusapia's fingers were quite near, but did not touch, the object. I proved that there was no electric force at work in these cases, but that things occurred as if the arms of the medium were lengthened and acted invisibly, but mechanically. At Varsovie, when one of my friends M. Glowacki, took it into his head "that it was necessary to give the medium free rein, in order to discover her method," we had an entirely fraudulent séance and lost our time to no purpose. On the contrary, in a poor séance at l'île Roubaud, we obtained some good phenomena after having frankly told the medium that she was cheating.

And here are the conclusions of the author upon "the Cambridge frauds":

1. Not only was conscious fraud not proved on Eusapia at Cambridge, but not the slightest effort was made to do so.

2. Unconscious fraud was proved in much larger proportions than in all the preceding experiments.

3. This negative result is vindicated by a blundering method little in accordance with the nature of the phenomena.

Such is also the opinion of Dr. J. Maxwell, and of all who are competent judges of the question.

To sum up, we see that the influence of preconceived ideas, opinions, and sentiments, upon the production of phenomena, is certain. When all the experimenters have nearly the same sympathetic inclination for this kind of research, and when they have decided to exercise sufficient "control" (that is, watchful oversight) not to be the dupe of any mystification, and agree among themselves to accept the regrettable conditions of darkness necessary to the activity of these unknown radiations, and not to trouble in any way the apparent exigencies of the medium, then the resulting phenomena attain an extraordinary degree of intensity.[36]