That phenomena of the latter class are sometimes exhibited is not only proved by many other facts that might be cited, but is clearly exemplified by this same writer in Putnam’s Magazine. The intelligence whose performances and communications he relates seems to stand out with a character and individuality as strongly marked and as distinct from any and all in the circle as any one of them was distinct from another. This individuality was first shown by giving its own pet names to the different persons composing the circle—”Flirt,” “Clarkey,” “Hon. Clarke,” “The Angel,” and “Sassiness.” The young lady designated by the last sobriquet, after it had been several times repeated, petitioned to be indicated thereafter “only by the initial ‘S,’” which the impertinent scribbler accorded only so far as omitting all the letters except the five S’s, so that she was afterward recognized as “S.S.S.S.S.”
The writer further says:
“It is always respectful to ‘Hon. Clarke,’ and when pressed to state what it thought of him, answered that he was ‘a good skipper,’ a reputation fairly earned by his capacity for managing a fleet of small boats. But we were not contented with so vague an answer, and our urgent demand for an analysis of his character produced the reply: ‘A native crab apple, but spicy and sweet when ripe.’ * * * When asked to go on, it wrote: ‘Ask me Hon. Clarke’s character again, and I will flee to the realms of imperishable woe; or, as Tabitha is here, say I’ll pull your nose;’ and on being taunted with its incapacity to fulfill the threat, it wrote: ‘Metaphorically speaking, of course.’ Not satisfied with this rebuff, on another occasion the subject was again pursued, and the answer elicited as follows: ‘Yes, but you can’t fool me. I said nay once, and when I says nay I means nay.’ [A mind of its own, then.] More than once it has lapsed into the same misuse of the verb, as: ‘I not only believes it, but I knows it;’ and again: ‘You asks and I answers, because I am here.’ * * *
“Again, on being remonstrated with for illiteracy, it defended itself by saying: ‘I always was a bad speler’ (sic); an orthographical blunder that no one in the room was capable of making. But on the whole, our Planchette is a scientific and cultivated intelligence, of more than average order, though it may be, at times, slightly inaccurate in orthography, and occasionally quote incorrectly; I must even confess that there are moments when its usual elegance of diction lapses into slang terms and abrupt contradictions. But, after all, though we flatter ourselves that as a family we contain rather more than ordinary intelligence, still it is more than a match for us.”
Who can fail to perceive, from these quotations and admissions, the marked and distinctive individuality of the intelligence that was here manifested, as being of itself totally fatal to the idea of derivation from the circle?
But not only was this intelligence distinctive, but in several instances even antagonistic to that existing in the circle, as in the case reported as follows:
“Some one desiring to pose this ready writer, asked for its theory of the Gulf Stream; which it announced without hesitation to be ‘Turmoil in the water produced by conglomeration of icebergs.’ Objection was made that the warmth of the waters of the natural phenomenon rather contradicted this original view of the subject; to which Planchette tritely responded: ‘Friction produces heat.’ ‘But how does friction produce heat in this case?’ pursued the questioner. ‘Light a match,’ was the inconsequent answer — Planchette evidently believing that the pupil was ignorant of first principles. ‘But the Gulf Stream flows north; how, then, can the icebergs accumulate at its source?’ was the next interrogation; which elicited the contemptuous reply: ‘There is as much ice and snow at the south pole as at the north, ignorant Clarkey.’ ‘But it flows from the Gulf of Mexico?’ pursued the undismayed. ‘You’ve got me there, unless it flows underground,’ was the cool and unexpected retort; and it wound up by declaring, sensibly, that, after all, ‘it is a meeting of the north and south Atlantic currents, which collide, and the eddie (sic) runs northward.’ [At another time,] on being twice interrogated in regard to a subject, it replied tartly: ‘I hate to be asked if I am sure of a fact.’”
Now, what could have been this intelligence which thus insisted upon preserving and asserting its individuality so distinctly as to forbid all reasonable hypothesis of a compounded derivation from the minds of the circle, even were such a thing possible? A fairy, perhaps, snugly cuddled up under the board so as to elude observation. Friend “Clarkey,” try again, for surely this time you are a little befogged, or else the present writer is more so.
“TO DAIMONION” (THE DEMON).
There was published, several years ago, by Gould & Lincoln, Boston, a little work entitled: “To Daimonion, or the Spiritual Medium. Its nature illustrated by the history of its uniform mysterious manifestations when unduly excited. By Traverse Oldfield.” This author deals largely in quotations from ancient writers in illustration of his subject; and as an attempt to explain the mysteries of clairvoyance, trance, second-sight, “spirit-knockings,” intelligent movements of physical bodies without hands, etc., his work has claims to our attention which do not usually pertain to the class of works to which it belongs. “To Daimonion” (the demon), or the “spiritual medium,” he supposes to be the spiritus mundi, or the spirit of the universe, which formed so large an element in the cosmological theories of many ancient philosophers; and this, “when unduly excited” (whatever that may mean), he supposes to be the medium, not only of many psychic and apparently preternatural phenomena described in the writings of all previous ages, but also of the similar phenomena of modern times, of which it is now admitted that Planchettism is only one of the more recently developed phases. For some reason, which seemed satisfactory to him, but which we fear he has not made clear or convincing to the mass of his readers, this writer assumes it as more than probable that this spiritus mundi — a living essence which surrounds and pervades the world, and even the whole universe — is identical with the “nervous principle” which connects the soul with the body, — in all this unconsciously reaffirming nearly the exact theory first propounded by Mesmer, in explanation of the phenomena of “animal magnetism,” so called. Quotations are given from Herodotus, Xenophon, Cicero, Pliny, Galen, and many others, referring to phenomena well known in the times in which these several writers lived, and which he supposes can be explained only on the general hypothesis here set forth; and in the same category of marvels, to be explained in the same way, he places the performances of the snake-charmers, clairvoyants, thought-readers, etc., of modern Egypt and India.
This spiritus mundi, or “nervous principle,” to which he supposes the ancients referred when they spoke of “the demon,” is, according to his theory, the medium, or menstruum, by which, under certain conditions of “excitement,” the thoughts and potencies of one mind, with its affections, emotions, volitions, etc., flow into another, giving rise to reflex expressions, which, to persons ignorant of this principle, have seemed possible only as the utterances of outside and supermundane intelligences. And as this same spiritus mundi, or demon, pervades and connects the mind equally with all physical bodies, in certain other states of “excitement” it moves those physical bodies, or makes sounds upon them, expressing intelligence — that intelligence always being a reflex of the mind of the person who, consciously or unconsciously, served as the exciting agent.
Whatever elements of truth this theory, in a different mode of application, might be found to possess, in the form in which it is here presented it is encumbered by two or three difficulties which altogether seem fatal. In the first place, it wears upon its face the appearance of a thing “fixed up” to meet an emergency, and which would never have been thought of except by a mind pressed almost to a state of desperation by the want of a theory to account for a class of facts. Look at it: “The spirit of the world identical with the nervous principle”! — the same, “when unduly excited,” the medium by which a mind may unconsciously move other minds and organisms, or even dead matter, in the expressi
on of its own thoughts! Where is the shadow of proof? Is it anything more than the sheerest assumption?
Then again: even if this mere assumption were admitted for truth, it would not account for that large class of facts referred to in the course of our remarks on the “Electrical theory,” unless this spiritus mundi, demon, nervous principle, or spiritual medium, is made at once not only the “medium,” but the intelligent and designing source of the communication; for, as we have said before, it would be perfectly useless to deny that thoughts are sometimes communicated through the Planchette and similar channels, which positively never had any existence in the minds of any of the persons visibly present.
And then, too, in relation to the nature of the demon, or demons: the theory of the ancients, from whose representative minds this writer has quoted, was notoriously quite different from that which he has given. The ancients recognized good demons and evil demons. The demon of Socrates was regarded by him as an invisible, individual intelligence. A legion of demons were in one instance cast out by Christ from the body of a man whom they had infested; we can hardly suppose that these were simply a legion of “nervous principles” or “souls of the world.” What those demons were really understood to be in those days, may be learned from a passage in the address of Titus to his army, when encamped before Jerusalem, in which, in order to remove from their minds the fear of death in battle, he says:
“For what man of virtue is there who does not know that those souls which are severed from their fleshy bodies in battles by the sword, are received by the ether, that purest of elements, and joined to that company which are placed among the stars; that they become good demons and propitious heroes, and show themselves as such to their posterity afterward?” — Josephus, Wars of the Jews, B. VI., cha, sec. 5.
Hesiod and many others might be quoted to the same purpose; but let this suffice as to the character and origin of these demons; and it may suffice also for the theory of To Daimonion, as to the particular mystery here to be explained.
IT IS SOME PRINCIPLE OF NATURE AS YET UNKNOWN.
If there is any wisdom in this theory, it is so profound that we “don’t see it.” It looks very much to us as though this amounted only to the saying that “all we know about the mystery is, that it is unknown; all the explanation that we can give of it is, that it is inexplicable; and that the only theory of it is, that it has no theory.” Thus it leaves the matter just where it was before, and we should not have deemed this saying worthy of the slightest notice had we not heard and read so much grave discussion on the subject, criticising almost every other theory, and then concluding with the complacent announcement of the writer’s or speaker’s theory as superior to all others, that “it is some principle or force of nature as yet unknown!”
THEORY OF THE AGENCY OF DEPARTED SPIRITS.
This theory apparently has both merits and difficulties, which at present we can only briefly notice. Among the strong points in its favor, the first and most conspicuous one is, that it accords with what this mysterious intelligence, in all its numerous forms of manifestation, has steadily, against all opposition, persisted in claiming for itself, from its first appearance, over twenty years ago, till this day. And singularly enough, it appears as a fact which, perhaps, should be stated as a portion of the history of these phenomena, that years before public attention and investigation were challenged by the first physical manifestation that claimed a spiritual origin, an approaching and general revisitation of departed human spirits was, in several instances, the burden of remarkable predictions. I have in my possession a little book, or bound pamphlet, entitled, “A Return of Departed Spirits,” and bearing the imprint, “Philadelphia: Published by J. R. Colon, 203½ Chestnut Street, 1843,” in which is contained an account of strange phenomena which occurred among the Shakers at New Lebanon, N. Y., during the early part of that year. In the language of the author: “Disembodied spirits began to take possession of the bodies of the brethren and sisters; and thus, by using them as instruments, made themselves known by speaking through the individuals whom they had got into.” The writer then goes on to describe what purported to be the visitations of hundreds in that way, from different nations and tribes that had lived on earth in different ages — the consistency of the phenomena being maintained throughout. I have conversed with leading men among the Shakers of the United States concerning this affair, and they tell me that the visitation was not confined to New Lebanon, but extended, more or less, to all the Shaker communities in the United States — not spreading from one to another, but appearing nearly simultaneously in all. They also tell me that the phenomena ceased about as suddenly as they appeared; and that when the brethren were assembled, by previous appointment, to take leave of their spirit-guests, they were exhorted by the latter to treasure up these things in their hearts; to say nothing about them to the world’s people, but to wait patiently, and soon they (the spirits) would return, and make their presence known to the world generally.
During the interval between the autumn of 1845 and the spring of 1847, a book, wonderful for its inculcations both of truth and error, was dictated in the mesmeric state by an uneducated boy — A. J. Davis — in which the following similar prediction occurs:
“It is a truth that spirits commune with one another while one is in the body and the other in the higher spheres — and this, too, when the person in the body is unconscious of the influx, and hence can not be convinced of the fact; and this truth will ere long present itself in the form of a living demonstration. And the world will hail with delight the ushering in of that era when the interiors of men will be opened, and the spiritual communion will be established, such as is now being enjoyed by the inhabitants of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” — Nat. Div. Rev., p, 676.
Eight months after the book containing this passage was published, and more than a year after the words here quoted were dictated and written, strange rapping sounds were heard in an obscure family in an obscure village in the western part of New York. On investigation, those sounds were found to be connected with intelligence, which, rapping at certain letters of the alphabet as it was called over, spelled sentences, and claimed to be a spirit. The phenomena increased, assumed many other forms, extended to other mediums, and rapidly spread, not only all over this country, but over the civilized world. And wherever this intelligence has been interrogated under conditions which itself prescribes for proper answers, its great leading and persistent response to the question, “What are you?” has been, “We are spirits!” Candor also compels us to admit that this claim has been perseveringly maintained against the combined opposition of the great mass of intelligent and scientific minds to whom the world has looked for its guidance; and so successfully has it been maintained, that its converts are now numbered by millions, gathered, not from the ranks of the ignorant and superstitious, but consisting mostly of the intelligent and thinking middle classes, and of many persons occupying the highest positions in civil and social life.
At first its opponents met it with expressions of utter contempt and cries of “humbug.” Many ingenious and scientific persons volunteered their efforts to expose the “trick;” and if they seemed, in some instances, to meet with momentary success in solving the mystery, the next day would bring with it some new form of the phenomenon to which none of their theories would apply. Being finally discouraged by repeated failures to explain the hidden cause of these wonders, they withdrew from the field, and for many years allowed the matter to go by default; and only within the last twelvemonth has investigation of the subject been re-aroused by the introduction into this country of the little instrument called “the Planchette” — an instrument which, to our certain knowledge, was used at least ten years ago in France, and that, too, as a supposed means of communicating with departed spirits.
This little board has been welcomed as a “toy” or a “game” into thousands of families, without suspicion of its having the remotest connection with so-called “Spiritualism.” The
cry has been raised,
“Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,”
but too late! The Trojan walls are everywhere down; the wooden horse is already dragged into the city with all the armed heroes concealed in its bowels; the battle has commenced, and must be fought out to the bitter end, as best it may be; and in the numerous magazine and newspaper articles that have lately appeared on the subject, we have probably only the beginning of a clash of arms which must terminate one way or another.
Should our grave and learned philosophers find themselves overcome by this little three-legged spider, it will be mortifying; but in order to avoid that result, we fear they will have to do better than they have done yet.
On the other hand, before the Spiritualists can be allowed to claim the final victory in this contest, they should, it seems to me, be required to answer the following questions in a manner satisfactory to the highest intelligence and the better moral and religious sense of the community:
Why is it that “spirits” communicating through your mediums, by Planchette or otherwise, can not relate, plainly and circumstantially, any required incident of their lives, as a man would relate his history to a friend, instead of dealing so much in vague and ambiguous generalities, as they almost always do, and that, too, often in the bad grammar or bad spelling of the medium? Or, as a question allied to this, why is it that what purports to be the same spirit, generally, if not always, fails, when trial is made, to identify himself in the same manner through any two different mediums? Or, as another question still allied to the above, why is it that your Websters, Clays, Calhouns, and others, speaking through mediums, so universally give the idea that they have deteriorated in intellect since they passed into the spirit-world? And why is it that so little discourse or writing that possesses real merit, and so much that is mere drivel, has come through your mediums, if spirits are the authors? And why does it so often happen that the spirits — if they are spirits — can not communicate anything except what is already in the mind of the medium, or at least of some other person present? It does not quite answer these questions to say that the medium is “undeveloped” unless you explain to us precisely on what principle the undevelopment affects the case. A speaking-trumpet may be “undeveloped” — cracked or wanting in some of its parts, so as to deteriorate the sound made through it; but we should at least expect that a man speaking through it would speak his own thoughts, and not the thoughts of the trumpet.
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 897
