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From Ghosts and their relations. Pen and ink
sketches: men and noted places, tales
essays, &c. &c. (1873)
************************* * The original monograph * contains the author's * pencilled note: * Printer's errors * exasperating D.C. *************************
WE are to some extent the creatures of circumstance, and
are influenced more or less by the objects of perception,
because they continually obtrude themselves upon our senses,
and because it requires very little effort of mind to
partially understand all, that is necessary for our comforts
and wants. Yet if one man more than another happens to
extend his sphere of knowledge, beyond that of his fellow
mortals, he has additional happiness in himself, and it is
his duty and privilege, to communicate his discoveries to
others. All mankind has a community of interests. Bonds,
and scourgings, and imprisonments, might force from the lips
of Galileo a retraction of his belief in the Copernican
system of astronomy, yet, in spite of all opposition, the
old man had a mental reservation of the truth which no
ignominy could eradicate. Columbus would not have deserved
our gratitude, if he and his crew had concealed from mortal
ken their discovery. Harvey, in the midst of much
opposition, declared to the world his discovery of the
circulation of the blood. Newton had "atheist" hurled
spitefully at him, because he enunciated the laws of
gravitation. His enemies declared he put laws, in the place
of God. He conquered, and they were confounded. Franklin
caught hold of the forked lightning, which flashed athwart
the darkened cloud, and said to heaven's artillery "go," and
it obeyed his mandate, "come," and it carried his messages
from pole to pole. Yet, he told the truth to a wondering
world. Simpson revealed the glad tidings, in regard to
chloroform, and suffering humanity rejoiced. Although there
is so much true nobility in scientific men, and so much
pleasure, in exploring new fields of investigation, yet,
there is only here and there a traveller." The
would-be-fashionable tourist will go in raptures" romantically--as a
matter of course--over the grandeur of the grandeur of
Niagara, or the Yosemite. He will descant, in a stereotyped
way, on the romantic and stern sublimity of Loch Lomond, the
Alps, the Rhine, or the Andes, but there is no vibration of
soul in the contemplation. The dandy, who struts the
evanescent day in fashionable frivolity--in striking
costume--in baubles, which "elude the grasp and vanish into
air," or the young lady whose stretch of thought only
compasses the latest fashions--the newest novelettes--the
striking attitude, the latest schottische, or waltz; are
gorgeous butterflies that dazzle in the sunshine, but cower,
and disappear, in the fierce storms of life, or in the dark
days, which try men's souls. The farmer, or mechanic, or
merchant, whose aspirations rise no higher than the plough,
the work-bench, the counter, is living in vain, and is only
in a small degree exalted above the vegetable, or the beasts
of the field, instead of being only "a little lower than the
angels, and crowned with glory and honor." In our
multifarious studies, and amid the harassing duties of life,
comparatively few of us turn our thoughts upon ourselves
"fearfully and wonderfully made.
"Ne'er can fold their wandering wings The wild unfathomable things."
In somnambulism, however, we have attention in vigorous exercise. So intensely is it exercised on one particular object, that it will rouse the will, to accomplish marvels. Here are the will, attention, memory, and sensation, in full play, and yet consciousness dormant. The eyes may be wide open, and might may fall upon the living, and sensitive retina. The image of external objects may be formed on it, but the subject sees not. The ear may still be "a sounding gallery," and the auditory nerve in tone, and vigour, but he hears not. He may be a gourmand, and an epicure, but even bitter aloes may be placed on his tongue. He will walk on housetops, on the edge of precipices, and fearlessly in places, which would make a waking man tremble. He will sing loudly, songs, and play on instruments, difficult pieces of music far beyond his powers when waking, and neither his own voice, nor the sound of the instrument, will rouse him. Why is the person thus affected, not cognizant of surrounding objects? Has soul withdrawn from the windows? Is not the soul using the body, independently of the senses?
Many persons hold, that the somnambulistic state is controlled by a second intelligence; that is, that such lead double lives. The Archbishop of Bordeaux relates the following, concerning a young priest, which bears out the idea: He was in the habit of writing sermons, when asleep; although a card was placed between his eyes and the note book, he continued to write vigorously. Did the history stop here, we should have a well authenticated case of vision without aid of eyes. But the collateral circumstances show that his writing was accomplished, not by sight, but by a most accurate representation of the object to be obtained, as will be further illustrated in our next case; for, after he had written a page requiring correction, a piece of blank paper of the exact size was substituted for his own manuscript, and on that he made the corrections, in the precise situation which they have occupied on the original page. A very astonishing part of this is, that, which relates to his writing music in his sleeping state, which it is said he did with perfect precision. He asked for certain things, and saw and heard such things, but only such as bore directly upon the subject of his thoughts. He detected this deceit, when water was given to him the place of brandy, which he had asked for. Finally, he knew nothing of all that had transpired when he awoke, but in his next paroxysm he remembered all accurately--and so lived a sort of double life, a phenomenon which we believe to be universal, in all the cases of somnambulism.
In Catalepsy, Trance-waking, we have a peculiar state of mind, in which the relations of mind and body are changed. The person, externally, may appear the same, except that the faculties, and capacities, are in a more exalted state--the former more active, and the latter, more receptive. The subject of it speaks more fluently, sings more sweetly, steps with more elasticity, and has a keener sense of the ludicrous, or pathetic. He may feel naught, but slight spasms of the body, but he loses a consciousness of past existence, in a normal condition. He remembers nothing, but what happens in this peculiar state. When he awakens he remembers nothing of what occurred when he was in this relation, and when he returns to that cataleptic state again, memory only returns to the facts relating to the last condition of trance. In fact there would seem to be two intermittent phases of consciousness, entirely distinct from one another. Some call this þtwo lives,þ which is a term scarcely correct. This states is most remarkable, and has been closely investigated for ages by intelligent, and scientific men. The ears may not hear, but the tips of the fingers may. The eyes cannot see, but the back of the head can. The mouth has no taste, but if bitter or sweet ingredients are put on the pit of the stomach, the different tastes are at once known, by the patient, although ignorant of their nature before. The perceptive powers are marvellous. Such discern objects, through mountains, walls, houses; and distance, however far, is no impediment to their vision. Their own bodies are to them transparent as crystal, and so are the bodies of others. They can read the thoughts of others without a blunder. It matters not whether these are near, or far away. Matter, however dense, is no obstacle. Space, however boundless, has no distance. Time, far in the future, is to them an eternal now. They have a sort of prescience, and can foretell to a certainty future events. It would seem as if the body was a telegraph office, and the clerk in charge of it, merely, animal life, and the soul was taking aerial flights, laying its telegraph lines as it went, and, quick as human thought, sending back to its head-quarters, accounts of its explorations. This is mere hypothesis, which inductive philosophy may yet substantiate. I am aware that Mesmer, Hon. Robert Boyle, and others who flourished at the beginning of this century, held to the opinion that there was a subtle fluid, analogous to electricity, or magnetism, or perhaps a modification of these, or one of them, which, in its manifestations, they called Od force. This they divided into two kinds, negative and positive; we presume to correspond with electrical conditions. This force, they held, produced all the manifestations of mesmerism. Those under its influence, in a superabundant degree, were subject to the will of the operator. His will was theirs. His emotions influenced them. His sensations, and theirs, were merged in one. In short, the duality became a unity, by a blending of this subtle power. At the same time, if the patient was more than ordinarily effected, a trance state ensued, and feeling was lost. Cloquet, the justly celebrated French surgeon, has left on record, a case of a woman who had cancer in the breast, and who, by mesmeric influence brought to bear on her, for several days successively, fell into a death-like trance, and, had the diseased breast removed, without the least consciousness of pain, although the operation lasted twelve minutes. The prejudice in Paris was so strong against Cloquet, that he had to discontinue such practices. The stupidity of ignorance prevailed. Since that time (1829) the operations of this subtle force have been manifested in tens of thousands, and have been taken advantage of by the devotees of humbug, to accomplish sinister purposes, and have consequently been wilfully despised by men of research, and science, although it may yet be the vestibule to an arcana of untold blessings to mankind. This Od force seems to be governed by some of the laws which operate in magnetism. Mons. Petetin caused seven persons to form a circle. Two of these held the hands of a cataleptic person, who could hear nothing, but, by the tips of the fingers. When Dr. Petetin whispered to the fingers of the most remote person, the patient heard the words, and sentences, distinctly. When a stick was made part of the circle, it was the same in results. If a glass rod, or a silk glove intervened, the communication was destroyed. This mysterious agency is not discommoded by distance, for as far as the patient is concerned, it is annihilated, and mind is read in all its wonderful phenomena as if it were a book printed in the largest characters. Dr. Mayo, in his work on "Popular Superstitions," tells of being at Boppard, in Prussia, as an invalid. He wrote to a friend in Paris. This friend put the letter in the hands of Alexis, a trance patient in the city, who knew nothing of Dr. Mayo, and asked him to tell what he knew about him. He told at once Dr. Mayo's age, stature, disposition, and illness. He said he was crippled, and at that time of day, half-past eleven, a.m., in bed. he said that Dr. Mayo was living on the sea-shore. This was not correct, but the doctor delighted to go down to the banks of the Rhine, and listen to the surge of waves made by the wheels of passing steamers, as the noise reminded him forcibly of the sea waves beating on the shore. The friend told Alexis this was not true, and the patient, after a few minutes' reflection, corrected himself, and said, "I was wrong, he does not live on the sea-coast, but on the Rhine, twenty leagues from Frankfort." This influence, through some medium, call it what you will, can be exercised at great distances. In other words, two persons can have an influence potently exercised upon one another, although many miles distant, there is a current of something passing between them, so that the thoughts, feelings, or sensations of the weaker party, become temporarily subservient to the stronger. Dr. Foissac, in his able work on "Animal Magnetism," among other cases, gives the following: He was in the habit of mesmerising one Paul Villagrand, in Paris. This subject desired to return to Magnac-javal, Haute Vienne, his native place. This place was about 300 miles distant. After he left, the Dr. wrote to the young man's father, a letter, saying, "I am magnetising you, on the 2nd of July, at 5 1/2 o'clock, p.m. I will awake you, when you have had a quarter of an hour's sleep." The father was directed to give the letter to his son. he, however, neither gave, nor did he inform him of its contents, being somewhat opposed to this--to him--sort of legerdemain. Nevertheless, at ten minutes before six, Paul being in the midst of his family, experienced a sensation of heat, and considerable uneasiness. his shirt was wet through, with perspiration. He wished to retire to his room; but they detained him. In a few minutes he was entranced. In this state, he astonished the person present, by reading, with his eyes shut, several lines of a book taken at hazard from the library, and by telling the hour, and minute, indicated by a watch, the face of which he did not see.
Dr. Mayo, while residing temporarily at Boppard, in the winter of 1846, sent a lock of hair, of one of his patients, to an American gentleman residing in paris. That patient was unknown to anyone in the city. He took this lock to a man who was under the influence of Od force. The somnambulist said, that the hair belonged to a person, who had partial palsy of the hips, and legs, and that for another complaint he was in the habit of using a catheter. This statement was strictly true. The volume could be filled with illustrations of this kind. The prescience of such is remarkable. The extended powers of discerning occurrences, at great distances is strangely true. Mr. Williamson, who investigated these things with acumen, asked one of his patients to tell him about the moon, but the answer was, that as he approached it, the light was too bright to be tolerated. Alexis, mentioned before, was asked about the condition of the planets. He said the were inhabited, with the exception of those, which are either too near to, or too remote from, the sun. He said that the inhabitants of the different planets are very diverse; that the earth is best off, for that man has double the intelligence of the ruling animals, in the other planets. This may be a shrewd guess, but it may be the truth. Of all the inhabitants of this solar system, man may be the highest intelligence. Analogy, and inductive philosophy do not lay any stumbling-blocks in the way. The former does not veto a possibility, and the latter throws no doubts in the way of inferential probabilities. Sir Wm. Hamilton says, in his lectures on Metaphysics and Logic, of Waking Trance, especially of somnambulism, "that it is a phenomenon still more astonishing (than dreaming). In this singular state a person performs a series of rational actions, and those frequently of the most difficult and delicate nature, and, what is still more marvellous, with a talent to which he could make no pretensions when awake. (Ancillon, Esaias Philos. II. 161.) His memory, and reminiscences supply him with recollections of words, and things, which, perhaps, never were at his disposal in the ordinary state--he speaks more fluently a more refined language. And if we are to credit, what the evidence, on which it rests, hardly allows us to disbelieve, he has not only perception of things through other channels than the common organs of sense, but the sphere of his cognition is amplified to an extent far beyond the limits to which sensible perception is confined. This subject is one of the most perplexing in the whole compass of philosophy; for, on the one hand, the phenomena are so remarkable that they cannot be believed, and yet, on the other, they are of so unambiguous and palpable a character, and the witnesses to their reality are so numerous, so intelligent, and so high above every suspicion of deceit, that it is equally impossible to deny credit to what is attested to such ample and unexceptionable evidence." Muller, the distinguished physiologist, strongly disbelieved because he could not understand, and yet, in the "Physiology of the Senses," he says, "that the mental principle, or cause of the mental phenomena, cannot be confined to the brain, but that it exists in a latent state in every part of the organism." That accepts all that is necessary to establish the abnormal (if it can be called such) state of mind, and body, in the state referred to.
The most remarkable of all these wondrous states, is that of complete insensibility to all external impressions, however potent. The windows of the body are darkened. The curtains are drawn down, and the shutters are closed, and inertia of the material tabernacle is the result. The ego, however, is in full activity, and all the more so, by being partially free from the incubus of mortality. No stimulant can rouse the patient. No electric shock can stir the physical frame. The charge of the fluid may, by its influence on the nerves, produce violent muscular action, enough in the waking moments, to produce acute pain, and even imperil life, but, in this state, the soul defies the subtle aura. A limb may be amputated, an eye extracted, but there is no response of consciousness. There is no inhalation, nor exhalation, of air in connection with the lungs. The body, if not disturbed is a motionless corpse. The heat of the body falls many degrees. Commonly the muscles are relaxed, as in the recently dead, and occasionally there is rigidity, as of a dead body. In epidemics, such, are often buried alive, as all physical signs indicate death. Physicians, qualified to judge, say "that this state is more frequently produced by spasmodic, and nervous illness, than by mental causes. It has followed fever, and has frequently attended parturition. The patient remembers all his ideal life, and knows that it differs from that of dreaming, in being consistent, and in never indulging in the wildest extravaganzas. The judgment, and attention are in active exercise, and the imagination, by these balance wheels is kept in reasonable subjection. So real are the impressions, subjectively considered, that fanatics, under all circumstances, believe them to be direct, positive, and admonitory revelations from God. There is intense light within, but the world without is shut off in darkness. The soul is so intent upon itself, that it has no opportunity for explorations beyond itself.
There is a modification of this state. The affected
person seems in a profound sleep. The breathing and the
heart's action are regular. The temperature of the body is
normal, but the pupils are distended to their utmost size,
and fixed, in that position, in spite of the most intense
stimulation, by means of light. I have seen numbers of such
cases, especially hysterical patients. It often follows
fever, and would seem as a rest for nature, and as an
alternative to death. Intense excitement will cause it.
The actings of a tragedy, whether real or histrionic, the
mental tensions of religious excitement, and the sudden
alarms of impending danger, will produce trance coma, all of
which are purely physical impressions, acting upon the
brain, and being excited, secondarily, by reflex action of
the mind, thus operating, mutually on the three-fold nature
of man--body, mind, and spirit. Rev. George Sanby, in his
work on Mesmerism, tells that "George Fox, the celebrated
father of Quakerism, at one period lay in a trance for
fourteen days, and the people came to stare, and wonder at
him. He had the appearance of a dead man; but his sleep was
full of divine visions of beauty, and glory." There is a
story told of Socrates, the philosopher, to the same
effect. Being in military service in the expedition to
Potidea, he is reported to have stood for twenty four hours,
before the camp, rooted to the same spot, and absorbed in
deep thought, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon one
object, as if his soul were absent from the body. The
newspapers of to-day give us information of such cases every
few months, and evidenced by unimpeachable testimony of
medical men. Need I say, that in the dark ages, these
manifestations were supposed to be demoniacal, and witches,
and wizards, were roasted forthwith. The poor unfortunates,
themselves, not being able to explain the physical, and
Rev. Le Roi Sunderland, in Zion's Watchman, N. Y., Oct. 2nd, 1842, says:--
"I have seen persons often 'lose their strength,' as it is
called, at Camp meetings, and other places of great
religions (End.)