A group of problems that appears conspicuously in the present volume, and in so far contributes to the fitness of its title, has obtained a considerable interest on the part of the public at large. Such interest seems prone to take its clue from the activity of those who herald startling revelations on the basis of unusual psychic experiences, and who give promise of disclosing other worlds than the one with which common sense and common sensation acquaint us, rather than from the cautious and consistent results of serious and professional students in study or in laboratory. The fascination of the unusual over the popular mind is familiar and intelligible, and seems in no direction more pronounced than in matters psychological. So long as this interest is properly subordinated to a comprehensive and illuminating general view of the phenomena in question, it is not likely to be harmful and may prove to be helpful. But when the conception of the nature of our mental endowment and the interest in the understanding thereof are derived from the unusual, the abnormal, and the obscure, instead of from the normal, law-abiding observations systematized and illuminated by long and successful research, there is danger that the interest will become unwholesome and the conception misleading. It is quite natural that the plain man should be interested in the experiences of the world of mind which form an intrinsic part of his common humanity; and it is equally natural that he should find attraction in less commonplace and seemingly anomalous mental phenomena. If thunderstorms were as rare as total eclipses of the sun, it is likely that they would attract equal attention, be looked upon as terrifying and portentous by superstitious humanity, and be invested by tradition with mysterious significance, under the influence of the interest in the unusual. The existence of this interest is itself a distinctive trait meriting a psychological interpretation, and one not likely to be overlooked. Its direction and regulation become the care of the several departments of science that deal with the respective subject-matters involved. And yet in a special way, as expressions of the popular esprit, such interests claim the psychologist's attention as they do not claim the attention of representatives of other sciences. It may happen that the astronomer finds an interest in noting popular conceptions in regard to comets and life on other planets and beliefs about meteors and eclipses, but such interest forms no essential part of his occupation. He knows very well that the intelligent layman who wishes to be informed on astronomical matters will turn with confidence and respect to the accounts of the solar system, which represent the result of generations of scientific research under the guidance of exceptional ability and devotion. The psychologist is in a less fortunate position. His topic has neither that exclusive definiteness of content nor that position of hereditary prestige nor the general acknowledgment of its essentially technical character, which belong to astronomy. All men have their own psychological experiences and notions about mental phenomena, but opinions concerning astronomy are admitted to belong to those who have specially fitted themselves for such pursuits.
There is thus a natural reason why it should be particularly difficult in psychology to bring about a wholesome and right-minded and helpful interest on the part of the layman,—a difficulty further aggravated by the encouragement of well-meaning but logically defective publications claiming to substantiate by quasi-scientific methods the popular belief in the peculiar personal and mysterious significance of events. In the face of this situation, the professional psychologist cannot but take heed of the dangers which imperil the true appreciation of his labors and his purpose, on the part of the sympathetic layman. It is a matter of serious concern that the methods of genuine psychological study, that the conditions of advance in psychology, that the scope and nature of its problems should be properly understood. It is matter of importance that the dominant interest in psychology should centre about the normal use and development of functions with respect to which psychology bears a significant message for the regulation of life. The restoration of a more desirable and progressive point of view requires some examination of the false and misleading conceptions and alleged data, which threaten to divert the sound and progressive interest from its proper channels. It is not to be expected, when many who engage public attention speak in favor of the importance of the unknown and the mystic in psychology, when the twilight phenomena of mental life are dwelt upon—and professionally as well as by amateurs—to the neglect of the luminous daylight actualities, that the layman will always correctly distinguish between what is authentically scientific and in accordance with the advancing ideals of psychology, and what is but the embodiment of unfortunate traditions, or the misguided effort of the dilettante, or the perverse fallacy of the prepossessed mystic. Fact and fable in psychology can only be separated by the logical sifting of evidence, by the exercise of the prerogative of a scientific point of view substantiated and fortified by the lessons embodied in the history of rational opinion. The cause of truth and the overthrow of error must sometimes be fought in drawn battle and with the clash of arms, but are more frequently served by the inauguration of an adherence to one side and the consequent desertion of the other. Both procedures may be made necessary by the current status of psychological discussion.
The present collection of essays is offered as a contribution towards the realization of a sounder interest in and a more intimate appreciation of certain problems upon which psychology has an authoritative charge to make to the public jury. These essays take their stand distinctively upon one side of certain issues, and as determinately as the situation seems to warrant, antagonize contrary positions; they aim to oppose certain tendencies and to support others; to show that the sound and profitable interest in mental life is in the usual and normal, and that the resolute pursuit of this interest necessarily results in bringing the apparently irregular phenomena of the mental world within the field of illumination of the more familiar and the law-abiding. They further aim to illustrate that misconceptions in psychology, as in other realms, are as often the result of bad logic as of defective observation, and that both are apt to be called into being by inherent mental prepossessions. Some of the essays are more especially occupied with an analysis of the defective logic which lends plausibility to and induces credence in certain beliefs; others bring forward contributions to an understanding of phenomena about which misconception is likely to arise; still others are presented as psychological investigations which, it is believed, command a somewhat general interest. The prominence of the discussion of unfortunate and misleading tendencies in psychological opinion should not be allowed to obscure the more intrinsically important problems which in the main are of a different, though possibly not of an unrelated character. I should be defeating one of the purposes of these essays if, by the discussion of mooted positions, I conveyed the notion that the problems thus presented were naturally the fundamental ones about which advance in psychology may be most promisingly centred. I deeply regret that the dispossession of fable requires more resolute and more elaborate exposition than the unfoldment of fact; but such is part of the condition confronting the critical student of psychological opinion. I must depend upon the reader to make due allowances for this foreshortening of a portion of the composition, and so to bring away a truer impression of the whole than the apparent perspective suggests.
It would not be proper to claim for this budget of psychological studies a pre-arranged unity of design or a serial unfoldment of argument. They represent the unity of interest of a worker in a special field, who has his favorite excursions and vistas, who at times ventures away from the beaten paths and as frequently returns along those already traversed, but with varying purposes, and reaches the outlook from a different approach. There seems enough of singleness of purpose in the several presentations to warrant their inclusion in a single volume with a common name. There is enough also to make it pertinent to explain that the occasional repetitions of the same line of thought seemed less objectionable than frequent reference from one essay to another.
All of the essays have been previously printed in the pages of various scientific and popular magazines; and I have accordingly to acknowledge the courtesy of the several publishers, which makes possible their appearance in their present form. The essays have, however, been subjected to a critical revision, in the hope of increasing their acceptability in regard to form and material, and of giving them a setting appropriate to the interests of the present-day readers of psychological literature. Both in the selection of the essays from a larger group of published studies, and in their arrangement and elaboration, I have attempted to bear in mind the several current interests in questions of this type, and to direct these interests formatively along lines which seem to me fertile in promise and sterling in value. In the recasting thus made necessary it has come about (markedly in two cases, The Problems of Psychical Research and The Logic of Mental Telegraphy) that some of the essays have been entirely rewritten and bear only a generic resemblance to their former appearance.
The several acknowledgments to be recorded are as follows: To the "Popular Science Monthly," for permission to reprint The Psychology of Deception (December, 1888), The Psychology of Spiritualism (April, 1889), A Study of Involuntary Movements (April and September, 1892), The Mind's Eye (January, 1899), The Modern Occult (September, 1900); to the "New Princeton Review," for The Dreams of the Blind (January, 1888); to "Harper's Monthly Magazine," for The Problems of Psychical Research (June, 1889); to "Scribner's Magazine," for The Logic of Mental Telegraphy (October, 1895); to the "Cosmopolitan," for Hypnotism and its Antecedents (February, 1896). The Natural History of Analogy was delivered as a vice-presidential address before the Section of Anthropology of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and was printed in its Proceedings, vol. xl., 1891. The article, Mental Prepossession and Inertia, appeared in a college publication of the University of Wisconsin, the "Aegis" (April, 1897). I have also to acknowledge my indebtedness to Miss Helen Keller for her very interesting contribution to my presentation of the dreams of the blind. My most comprehensive obligation in the preparation of the volume I have acknowledged upon the dedicatory page.
JOSEPH JASTROW.
Madison, Wisconsin, November, 1900.
If that imaginary individual so convenient for literary illustration, a visitor from Mars, were to alight upon our planet at its present stage of development, and if his intellectual interests induced him to survey the range of terrestrial views of the nature of what is "in heaven above, or on the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth," to appraise mundane opinion in regard to the perennial problems of mind and matter, of government and society, of life and death, our Martian observer might conceivably report that a limited portion of mankind were guided by beliefs representing the accumulated toil and studious devotion of generations,—the outcome of a slow and tortuous but progressive growth through error and superstition, and at the cost of persecution and bloodshed; that they maintained institutions of learning where the fruits of such thought could be imparted and the seeds cultivated to bear still more richly; but that outside of this respectable yet influential minority, there were endless upholders of utterly unlike notions and of widely diverging beliefs, clamoring like the builders of the tower of Babel in diverse tongues.
It is well, at least occasionally, to remember that our conceptions of science and of truth, of the nature of logic and of evidence, are not so universally held as we unreflectingly assume or as we hopefully wish. Almost every one of the fundamental, basal, and indisputable tenets of science is regarded as hopelessly in error by some ardent would-be reformer. One Hampden declares the earth to be a motionless plane with the North Pole as the centre; one Carpenter gives a hundred remarkable reasons why the earth is not round, with a challenge to the scientists of America to disprove them; one Symmes regarded the earth as hollow and habitable within, with openings at the poles, which he offered to explore for the consideration of the "patronage of this and the new worlds;" while Symmes, Jr., explains how the interior is lighted, and that it probably forms the home of the lost tribes of Israel; and one Teed announces, on equally conclusive evidence, that the earth is a "stationary concave cell ... with people, Sun, Moon, Planets, and Stars on the inside," the whole constituting an "alchemico-organic structure, a Gigantic Electro-Magnetic Battery." If we were to pass from opinions regarding the shape of the earth to the many other and complex problems that appeal to human interests, it would be equally easy to collect "ideas" comparable to these in value, evidence, and eccentricity. With this conspicuously pathological outgrowth of brain-functioning,—although its representatives in the literature of the occult are neither few nor far between,—I shall not specifically deal; and yet the general abuse of logic, the helpless flounderings in the mire of delusive analogy, the baseless assumptions, which characterize insane or "crank" productions, are readily found in the literary products of occultism.
The occult consists of a mixed aggregate of movements and doctrines, which may be the expressions of kindred interests and dispositions, but present no essential community of content. Such members of this cluster of beliefs as in our day and generation have attained a considerable adherence or still retain it from former generations, constitute the modern occult. A conspicuous and truly distinctive characteristic of the occult is its marked divergence in trend and belief from the recognized standards and achievements of human thought. This divergence is one of attitude and logic and general perspective. It is a divergence of intellectual temperament, that distorts the normal reactions to science and evidence, and to the general significance and values of the factors of our complicated natures and of our equally complicated environment. At least it is this in extreme and pronounced forms; and shades from it through an irregular variety of tints to a vague and often unconscious susceptibility for the unusual and eccentric, combined with an instability of conviction regarding established beliefs that is more often the expression of the weakness of ignorance than of the courage of independence.
In their temper and course of unfoldment, occult doctrines are likely to involve and to proceed upon mysticism, obscurity, and a disguised form of superstition. In their content, they are attracted to such themes as the ultimate nature of mental action, the conception of life and death, the effect of cosmic conditions upon human events and endowment, the delineation of character, the nature and treatment of disease; or indeed to any of the larger or smaller realms of knowledge that combine with a strong human, and at times a practical interest, a considerable complexity of basal principles and general relations. Both the temper and the content, the manner and the matter of the occult, should be borne in mind in a survey of its more distinctive examples. It is well, while observing the particular form of occultism or mysticism, or, it may be, merely of superstition and error, which one or another of the occult movements exhibits, to note as well the importance of the intellectual motive or temperament that inclines to the occult. It is important to inquire not only what is believed, but what is the nature of the evidence that induces belief; to observe what attracts and then makes converts; to discover what are the influences by which the belief spreads. Two classes of motives or interests are conspicuous: the one prominently intellectual or theoretical, the other moderately or grossly practical. Movements in which the former interest dominates, contain elements that command respect even when they do not engage sympathy; and that appeal, though it may be unwisely, to worthy impulses and lofty aspirations. Amongst the movements presenting prominent practical aspects are to be found instances of the most irreverent and pernicious, as well as of the most vulgar, ignorant, and fraudulent schemes which have been devised to mislead the human mind. Most occult movements, however, are of a mixed character; and in their career, the speculative and the practical change in importance at different times, or in different lands, or at the hands of variously minded leaders. Few escape, and some seem especially designed for the partisanship of that class who are seeking whom they may devour; who, stimulated by the greed for gain or the love of notoriety, set their snares for the eternally gullible. The interest in the occult, however, is under the sway of the law of fashion; and fortunately, many a mental garment which is donned in spite of the protest of reason and propriety, is quietly laid aside when the dictum of the hour pronounces it unbecoming.
Historically considered, the occult points back to distant epochs and to foreign civilizations; to ages when the facts of nature were but weakly grasped, when belief was largely dominated by the authority of tradition, when even the ablest minds fostered or assented to superstition, when the social conditions of life were inimical to independent thought, and the mass of men were cut off from intellectual growth of even the most elementary kind. Pseudo-science flourished in the absence of true knowledge; and imaginative speculation and unfounded belief held the office intended for inductive reason. Ignorance inevitably led to error, and false views to false practices. In the sympathetic environment thus developed, the occultist flourished and displayed the impressive insignia of exclusive wisdom. His attitude was that of one seeking to solve an enigma, to find the key to a secret arcanum; his search was for some mystic charm, some talismanic formula, some magical procedure, which should dispel the mist that hides the face of nature and expose her secrets to his ecstatic gaze. By one all-encompassing, masterful effort the correct solution was to be discovered or revealed; and at once and for all, ignorance was to give place to true knowledge, science and nature were to be as an open book, doubt and despair to be replaced by the serenity of perfect wisdom. As our ordinary senses and faculties proved insufficient to accomplish such ends, supernatural powers were appealed to, a transcendental sphere of spiritual activity was cultivated, capable of perceiving, through the hidden symbolism of apparent phenomena, the underlying relations of cosmic structure and final purposes. Long periods of training and devotion, seclusion from the world, contemplation of inner mysteries, were to lead the initiate through the various stages of adeptship up to the final plane of communion with the infinite and the comprehension of truth in all things. This form of occultism reaches its fullest and purest expression in Oriental wisdom-religions. These vie in interest to the historian with the mythology and philosophy of Greece and Rome; and we of the Occident feel free to profit by their ethical and philosophical content, and to cherish the impulses which gave them life. But when such views are forcibly transplanted to our age and clime, when they are decked in garments so unlike their original vestments, particularly when they are associated with dubious practices and come into violent conflict with the truth that has accumulated since they first had birth,—their aspect is profoundly altered, and they come within the circle of the modern occult.
Of this character is Theosophy, an occult movement brought into recent prominence by the activity and personality of Mme. Blavatsky. The story of the checkered career of this remarkable woman is fairly accessible. Born in Russia in 1831 as Helen Petrovna, daughter of Colonel Hahn, of the Russian army, she was married at the age of seventeen to an elderly gentleman, M. Blavatsky. She is described in girlhood as a person of passionate temper and wilful and erratic disposition. She separated or escaped from her husband after a few months of married life, and entered upon an extended period of travel and adventure. The search for "psychic" experiences and for unusual persons and beliefs seemed to form the leit-motiv of her nomadic existence. She absorbed Hindu wisdom from the adepts of India; she sat at the feet of a thaumaturgist at Cairo; she journeyed to Canada to meet the medicine man of the Red Indians, and to New Orleans to observe the practices of Voodoo among the negroes. It is difficult to know what to believe in the accounts prepared by her enthusiastic followers. Violations of physical law were constantly occurring in her presence; and, to borrow a phrase from Mr. Lang, "sporadic outbreaks of rappings and feats of impulsive pots, pans, beds, and chairs insisted on making themselves notorious." In 1873 she came to New York and sat in "spiritualistic" circles, assuming an assent to their theories, but claiming to see through and beyond the manifestations the operations of her theosophic guides in astral projection. At such a séance she met Colonel Olcott, and assisted him in the foundation of the Theosophical Society in New York in October, 1875. Mme. Blavatsky directed the thought of this society to the doctrines of Indian occultism, and reported the appearance in New York of a Hindu Mahatma, who left a turban behind him as evidence of his astral visit. The Mahatmas, it was explained, were a Society of Brothers, who dwelt in the fastnesses of far-off Thibet, and there handed on by tradition the super-mortal wisdom which their spirituality and contemplative training enabled them to absorb. Later, this modern priestess of Isis and Colonel Olcott (who remained her staunch supporter, but whom she referred to in private as a "psychologized baby") exchanged the distracting atmosphere of New York for the more serene environment of India; and at Adyar established a shrine, from which were mysteriously issued answers to letters placed within its recesses, from which secret facts were revealed, and a variety of interesting marvels performed. Discords arose within the household, and led to the publication by M. and Mme. Coulomb, her confederates, of letters illuminating the tricks of the trade by which the miracles had been produced. Mme. Blavatsky pronounced the letters to be forgeries, but they were sufficiently momentous to bring Mr. Hodgson to India to investigate for the Society for Psychical Research. He was able to deprive many of the miracles of their mystery; to show how the shrine from which the Mahatma's messages emanated was accessible to Mme. Blavatsky by the aid of sliding panels and secret drawers, to show that these messages were in style, spelling, and handwriting the counterpart of Mme. Blavatsky's, to show that many of the phenomena were the result of planned collusion and that others were created by the limitless credulity and the imaginative exaggeration of the witnesses,—"domestic imbeciles," as madame confidentially referred to them. Through the Akasic force, the medium of which was the mysterious world-ether, Akaz, were brought messages that suddenly appeared in space or fluttered down from the ceiling; yet M. Coulomb explained how by means of a piece of thread, a convenient recess in the plaster of the ceiling, and an arranged signal, the letters could be made to appear at the proper dramatic moment. When a saucer was left standing near the edge of a shelf in the shrine, and the opening of the door brought it to the floor shattered to pieces, the same mysterious force was sufficient to recreate it, without flaw or blemish; but when Mr. Hodgson finds that at a shop at which Mme. Blavatsky had made purchases, two such articles had been sold at the price of two rupees eight annas the pair, the miracle becomes more intelligible.
In brief, the report of the society convicted "the Priestess of Isis" of "a long continued combination with other persons to produce by ordinary means a series of apparent marvels for the support of the Theosophic movement;" and concludes with these words: "For our own part, we regard her neither as the mouthpiece of hidden seers nor as a mere vulgar adventuress; we think that she has achieved a title to permanent remembrance as one of the most accomplished, ingenious, and interesting impostors in history." Mme. Blavatsky died in 1891, and her ashes were divided between Adyar, London, and New York.
The Theosophic movement continues, though with abated vigor, owing partly to the above-mentioned disclosures, but probably more to the increasing propagandism of other cults, to the lack of a leader of Mme. Blavatsky's genius, or to the inevitable ebb and flow of such interests. Mme. Blavatsky continued to expound Theosophy after the exposures, and although depressed by their publication still occasionally essayed a miracle. Later, in a moment of confession induced by the discovery of a package of Chinese envelopes ready to serve for miraculous appearances, she is reported to have said, "What is one to do, when in order to rule men it is necessary to deceive them; when their very stupidity invites trickery, for almost invariably the more simple, the more silly, and the more gross the phenomena, the more likely it is to succeed?" Still, even self-confession does not detract from the fervor of convinced believers; and Mrs. Besant, Mr. Sinnett, and others were ready to take up the work at her death. However, miracles are no longer performed, and no immediately practical ends are proclaimed. Individual development and evolution, mystic discourses on adeptship and Karma and Maya and Nirvana, communion with the higher ends of life, the cultivation of an esoteric psychic insight, form the goal of present endeavor. The Mahatmas, says Mrs. Besant, are giving "intellectual instructions, enormously more interesting than even the exhibition of their abnormal powers." "Our European thinkers," thus Mr. Podmore interprets Mr. Sinnett's attitude, "are like blind men who are painfully learning to read with their fingers from a child's primer, whilst these have eyes to see the universe, past, present, and to come. To Mr. Sinnett it had been given to learn the alphabet of that transcendent language." "He could make the most extravagant mysticism seem matter of fact. He could write of Manvantaras and Nirvana, and the septenary constitution of man, in language which would have been appropriate in a treatise on kitchen-middens, or the functions of the pineal gland. In his lucid prose the vast conceptions of primitive Buddhism were fused with the commonplaces of modern science; and whilst the cosmology which resulted from their union dazzled by its splendid visions, the precise terminology of the writer, and the very poverty of his imagination, served to reassure his readers that they were listening to words of truth and soberness. We were taught to look back upon this earth and all its mighty sisterhood of planets and suns rolling onward in infinite space, through cycle after cycle in the past. We were shown how, through the perpetual flux and reflux of the spiritual and the natural, the cosmic evolution was accomplished, and the earth grew, through the life of crystal, and plant, and brute, to man. We saw how the worlds throbbed in vast alternation of systole and diastole, and how the tide of human life itself had its ebb and flow. And this fugitive human personality—the man who works, and loves, and suffers—we saw to endure but for a short life on earth, and for an age, shorter or longer, in Devachan. Memory is then purged away, the eternal spirit puts on a new dress, and a new life on earth is begun. And so through each succeeding reincarnation the goal of the life preceding becomes the starting-point of the life which follows." In such manner the modern Theosophist seeks to appeal to men and women of philosophical inclinations, for whom an element of mysticism has its charm, and who are intellectually at unrest with the conceptions underlying modern science and modern life. Such persons are quite likely to be educated, refined, and sincere. We may believe them intellectually misguided; we may recognize the fraud to which their leader resorted to glorify her creed, but we must equally recognize the absence of many pernicious tendencies in their teachings, which characterize other and more practical occult movements.
Spiritualism, another member of the modern occult family, presents a combination of features rather difficult to portray; but its public career of half a century has probably rendered its tenets and practices fairly familiar.[1] For, like other movements, it presents both doctrines and manifestations; and, like other movements, it achieved its popularity through its manifestations and emphasized the doctrines to maintain the interest and solidarity of its numerous converts. Deliberate fraud has been repeatedly demonstrated in a large number of alleged "spiritualistic" manifestations; in many more the very nature of the phenomena and of the conditions under which they appear is so strongly suggestive of trickery as to render any other hypothesis of their origin equally improbable and superfluous. Unconscious deception, exaggerated and distorted reports, defective and misleading observation, have been demonstrated to be most potent reagents, whereby alleged miracles are made to throw off their mystifying envelopings and to leave a simple deposit of intelligible and often commonplace fact. That the methods of this or that medium have not been brought within the range of such explanation may be admitted, but the admission carries with it no bias in favor of the spiritualistic hypothesis. It may be urged, however, that where there is much smoke there is apt to be some fire; yet there is little prospect of discovering the nature of the fire until the smoke has been completely cleared away. Perhaps it has been snatched from heaven by a materialized Prometheus; perhaps it may prove to be the trick of a ridiculus mus gnawing at a match. And yet, in this connection, the main point to be insisted upon with regard to such manifestations is that their interpretation and their explanation demand some measure of technical knowledge and training, and of special adaptability to such pursuits. "The problem cannot be solved and settled by amateurs, nor by 'common sense' that
Spiritualism represents a systematization of popular beliefs and superstitions, modified by echoes of religious and philosophical doctrines; it thus contains factors which owe their origin to other interests than those which lead directly to the occult. Its main purpose was to establish the reality of communication with departed spirits; the means, which at first spontaneously presented themselves and later were devised for this purpose, were in large measure not original. The rappings are in accord with the traditional folk-lore behavior of ghosts; their transformation into a signal code (although a device discovered before) may have been due to the originality of the Fox children; the planchette has its analogies in Chinese and European modes of divination; clairvoyance was incorporated from the phenomena of artificial somnambulism, as practiced by the successors of Mesmer; the "sensitive" or "medium" suggests the same origin as well as the popular belief in the gift of supernatural powers in favored individuals; others of the phenomena, such as "levitation" and "cabinet performances," have their counterparts in Oriental magic; "slate-writing," "form materializations," "spirit-messages" and "spirit photographs" are, in the main, modern contributions. Mr. Lang has attractively set forth the resemblances between primitive and ancient spiritualism and its modern revival; he suggests that "the 'Trance Medium,' the 'Inspirational Speaker' was a reproduction of the maiden with a spirit of divination, of the Delphic Pythia. In the old belief, the god dominated her, and spoke from her lips, just as the 'control' or directing spirit dominates the medium." He suggests that it is for like reasons that "the Davenport Brothers, like Eskimo and Australian conjurers, like the Highland seer in the bull's hide," are swathed or bound; he notes that "the lowest savages have their séances, levitations, bindings of the medium, trance speakers; Peruvians, Indians, have their objects moved without contact;" he surmises that the Fox children, being of a Methodist family, may have been inspired by "old Jeffrey," who haunted the Wesleys' house.
The phenomena now associated with modern Spiritualism, with their characteristic milieu, breed the typical atmosphere of the séance chamber, which resists precise analysis, but which in its extreme form involves morbid credulity, blind prepossession, and emotional contagion; while the dependence of the phenomena on the character of the medium offers strong temptation alike to shrewdness, eccentricity, and dishonesty. On the side of his teachings the Spiritualist is likewise not strikingly original. The relations of his beliefs to those that grew about the revelations of Swedenborg, to the speculations of the German "pneumatologists," and to other philosophical doctrines, though perhaps not intimate, are yet traceable and interesting; and in another view the Spiritualist is as old as man himself, and finds his antecedents in the necromancer of Chaldea, or in the Shaman of Siberia, or the Angekok of Greenland, or the spirit-doctor of various savage tribes. The modern mediums are thus simply repeating with new costumes and improved scenic effects the mystic drama of primitive man.
Spiritualism thus appeals to a deep-seated craving in human nature, that of assurance of personal immortality and of communion with the departed. Just so long as a portion of mankind will accept material evidence of such a belief, and will even countenance the irreverence, the triviality, and the vulgarity surrounding the manifestations; just so long as those persons will misjudge their own powers of detecting how the alleged supernatural appearances are really produced, and remain unimpressed by the principles upon which alone a consistent explanation is possible, just so long will Spiritualism and kindred delusions flourish.
As to the present-day status of this cult it is not easy to speak positively. Its clientèle has apparently greatly diminished; it still numbers amongst its adherents men and women of culture and education, and many more who cannot be said to possess these qualities. There seems to be a considerable class of persons who believe that natural laws are insufficient to account for their personal experiences and those of others, and who temporarily or permanently incline to a spiritualistic hypothesis in preference to any other. Spiritualists of this intellectual temper can, however, form but a small portion of those who are enrolled under its creed. If one may judge by the tone and contents of current spiritualistic literature, the rank and file to which Spiritualism appeals present an unintellectual occult company, credulously accepting what they wish to believe, utterly regardless of the intrinsic significance of evidence or hypothesis, vibrating from one extreme or absurdity to another, and blindly following a blinder or more fanatic leader or a self-interested charlatan. While for the most extravagant and unreasonable expressions of Spiritualism one would probably turn to the literature of a few decades ago, yet the symptoms presented by the Spiritualism of to-day are unmistakably of the same character, and form a complex as characteristic as the symptom-complex of hysteria or epilepsy, and which, faute de mieux, may be termed occult. It is a type of occultism of a particularly pernicious character, because of its power to lead a parasitic life upon the established growths of religious beliefs and interests, and at the same time to administer to the needs of an unfortunate but widely prevalent passion for special signs and omens and the interpretation of personal experiences. It is a weak though comprehensible nature that becomes bewildered in the presence of a few experiences that seem homeless among the generous provisions of modern science, and runs off panic-stricken to find shelter in a system that satisfies a narrow personal craving at the sacrifice of broadly established principles, nurtured and grown strong in the hardy and beneficent atmosphere of science. It is a weaker and an ignorant nature that is attracted to the cruder forms of such beliefs, be it by the impulsive yielding to emotional susceptibility, by the contagion of an unfortunate mental environment, or by the absence of the steadying power of religious faith, or of logical vigor, or of confidence in the knowledge of others. Spiritualism finds converts in both camps and assembles them under the flag of the occult.[2]
The wane in the popularity of Spiritualism may be due in part to frequent exposures, in part to the passing of the occult interest to pastures new, and in part to other and less accessible causes. Such interest may again become dominant by the success or innovations of some original medium or by the appearance of some unforeseen circumstances. The present disposition to take up "spiritual healing" and "spiritual readings of the future" rather than mere assurances from the dead, indicates a desire to emulate the practical success of more recently established rivals. The history of Spiritualism, by its importance and its extravagance of doctrine and practice, forms an essential and an instructive chapter in the history of aberrant belief; and there is no difficulty in tracing the imprints of its footsteps on the sands of the occult.
The impress of ancient and mediæval lore upon latter-day occultism is conspicuous in the survivals of Alchemy and Astrology. Phrenology represents a more recent pseudo-science, but one sufficiently obsolete to be considered under the same head; as may also Palmistry, which has relations both to an ancient form of divination and to a more modern development after the manner of Physiognomy. The common characteristic of these is their devotion to a practical end. Alchemy occupies a somewhat distinct position. The original alchemists sought the secret of converting the baser metals into gold, in itself a sufficiently alluring and human occupation. There is no reason why such a problem should assume an occult aspect, except the sufficient one that ordinary procedures have not proved capable to effect the desired end. It is a proverbial fault of ambitious inexperience to attack valiantly large problems with endless confidence and sweeping aspiration. It is well enough in shaping your ideas to hitch your wagon to a star, yet the temporary utility of horses need not be overlooked; but shooting arrows at the stars is apt to prove an idle pastime. If we are willing to forget for the moment that the same development of logic and experiment that makes possible the mental and material equipment of the modern chemist, makes impossible his consideration of the alchemist's search, we may note how far the inherent constitution of the elements, to say nothing of their possible transmutation, has eluded his most ultimate analysis. How immeasurably further it was removed from the grasp of the alchemist can hardly be expressed. But this is a scientific and not an occult view of the matter; it was not by progressive training in marksmanship that the occultist hoped to send his arrows to the stars. His was a mystic search for the magical transmutation, the elixir of life or the philosopher's stone. One might suppose that, once the world has agreed that these ends are past finding out, the alchemist, like the maker of stone arrow-heads, would have found his occupation gone and have left no successor. His modern representative, however, is an interesting and by no means extinct species. He seems to flourish in France, but may be found in Germany, in England, and in this country. He is rarely a pure alchemist (although so recently as 1854 one of them offered to manufacture gold for the French mint), but represents the pure type of occultist. He calls himself a Rosicrucian; he establishes a University of the Higher Studies, and becomes a professor of Hermetic Philosophy. His thought is mystic, and symbolism has an endless fascination for him. The recondite significance of numbers, extravagant analogies of correspondence, the traditional hidden meanings of the Kabbalah, fairly intoxicate him; and verbose accounts of momentous relations and of unintelligible discoveries run riot in his writings. His science is not a mere Chemistry, but a Hyper-Chemistry; his transmutations are no longer material, but assume a spiritual aspect. Like all adept followers of an esoteric belief, he must stand apart from his fellow-men; he must cultivate the higher "psychic" powers, so that eventually he may be able by the mere action of his will to cause the atoms to group themselves into gold.
The modern alchemist is apt to be a general occultist; he may be also an astrologer or a magnetist or a theosophist. But he is foremost an ardent enthusiast for exclusive and unusual lore—not the common and superficial possessions of misguided democratic science. He goes through the forms of study, remains superior to the baser practical ends of life, and finds his reward in the self-satisfaction of exclusive wisdom. In Paris, at least, he forms part of a rather respectable salon, speaking socially, or a "company of educated charlatans," speaking scientifically. His class does not constitute a large proportion of modern occultists, but they present a prominent form of its intellectual temperament. "There are also people," says Mr. Lang, "who so dislike our detention in the prison-house of old unvarying laws that their bias is in favor of anything which may tend to prove that science in her contemporary mood is not infallible. As the Frenchman did not care what sort of a scheme he invested money in, provided that it annoys the English, so many persons do not care what they invest belief in, provided that it irritates men of science." Of such is the kingdom of alchemists and their brethren.
Astrology, Phrenology, Physiognomy, and Palmistry have in common a search for positive knowledge whereby to regulate the affairs of life, to foretell the future, to comprehend one's destiny and capabilities. They aim to secure success, or at least to be forearmed against failure by being forewarned. This is a natural, a practical, and in no essential way an occult desire. It becomes occult, or, more accurately, superstitious, when it is satisfied by appeals to relations and influences which do not exist, and by false interpretation of what may be admitted as measurably and vaguely true and about equally important. When not engaged in their usual occupation of building most startling superstructures on the most insecure foundations, practical occultists are like Dr. Holmes's katydid, "saying an undisputed thing in such a solemn way." They will not hearken to the experience of the ages that success cannot be secured nor character read by discovering their unreal or mystic stigmata; they will not learn from physiology and psychology that the mental capabilities, the moral and emotional endowment of an individual are not stamped on his body in such a way that they may be revealed by half an hour's use of the calipers and tape-measure; they will not listen when science and common sense unite in teaching that the knowledge of mental powers is not such as may be applied by rule of thumb to individual cases, but that, like much other valuable knowledge, it proceeds by the exercise of sound judgment, and must as a rule rest content with suggestive generalizations and imperfectly established correlations. An educated man with wholesome interests and a vigorous logical sense can consider a possible science of character and the means of aiding its advance without danger and with some profit. But this meat is sheer poison to those who are usually attracted to this type of speculations, while it offers to the unscrupulous charlatan a most convenient net to spread for the unwary. In so far as these occult mariners, the astrologists and phrenologists et id genus omne, are sincere, and in so far represent superstition rather than commercial fraud, they simply ignore, through obstinacy or ignorance, the lighthouses and charts and the other aids to modern navigation, and persist in steering their craft by an occult compass. In some cases they are professedly setting out, not for any harbor marked on terrestrial maps, but their expedition is for the golden fleece or for the apples of the Hesperides; and with loud-voiced advertisements of their skill as pilots, they proceed to form stock companies for the promotion of their several enterprises and to dispose of the shares to credulous speculators.
It would be a profitless task to review the alleged data of Astrology or Phrenology or Palmistry, except for the illustrations which they readily yield of the nature of the conceptions and of the logic which command a certain popular interest and acceptance. The interest in these notions is, as Mr. Lang argues about ghosts and rappings and bogles, in how they come to be believed, rather than in how much or how little they chance to be true. It must be remembered also that our present interest is in the occult factors of these composite systems; they each contain other factors,—in part incorporations of vague and distorted scientific truths, in part dogmatic overstatement of results of observation, which, if reduced to the proportions warranted by definite evidence, dissolve into insignificance or intangibility, in part plausible or specious argumentation, and in still greater part mere fanciful assertion. And if we proceed to examine the professed evidence for the facts and laws and principles (sit venia verbis) that pervade Astrology or Phrenology or Palmistry or dream-interpretation, or beliefs of that ilk, we find the flimsiest kind of texture, that will hardly bear examination, and holds together only so long as it is kept secluded from the light of day. Far-fetched analogy, baseless assertion, the uncritical assimilation of popular superstitions, a great deal of prophecy after the event (it is wonderful how clearly the astrologer finds the indications of Napoleon's career in his horoscope, or the phrenologist reads them in the Napoleonic cranial protuberances), much fanciful elaboration of detail, ringing the variations on a sufficiently complex and non-demonstrable proposition, cultivating a convenient vagueness of expression, together