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I HAVE now arrived at the most vitally interesting question for us all in
connection with psychical research. Have we any evidence of the survival and
identity of those who have left the visible world? Is any light thrown on this
great problem by messages received through the medium? And from my small
personal experience I can reply with sincerity I have had some evidence which,
if not entirely convincing, points so strongly to the fact that we survive what
is called death that it requires more credulity to doubt the fact than to,
believe it. But any evidence I have had of the survival of those who have died
is slight, and part of what has been convincing to me is not so from a
scientific point of view. In this chapter I shall review briefly my experience
with what seem genuine communicators. I shall give an account first of those I
think evidential from the "test" point of view and secondly some cases which,
though not conclusive, were most convincing from the nature of the messages. I
leave my readers to draw their own conclusions. If I may venture to advise
persons who long to speak once more with those they have loved, who have
vanished into darkness, I should say it is wise and sane not to make the
attempt. The chances against genuine communication are ten to one; the
disappointments and doubts connected with the experiment are great.
Personally, I would not make any effort to speak to the beloved dead through
automatic writing or the ouija-board. The evidence they offer of their identity
is too ephemeral and unsatisfactory; and as I would not undertake these
experiments for myself, I would not willingly help others to risk them, unless
in very exceptional cases, when I had fully explained my own doubts on the
subject and had undertaken no responsibility that the messages would be
genuine. On the other hand, if, in the course of sittings at the ouija-table,
dear and familiar names have appeared, I have patiently tried to discover
whether they were genuine or the reverse, and in some cases, I am bound to
admit, I was inclined to think that they were not impersonations.
I fear the observations I have just made may be very distasteful to many who
approach this subject from the spiritualist point of view. I cannot offer these
people any apology for my attitude. It may be that they receive genuine help and
comfort from their faith in these manifestations from the Unseen; if so, I only
trust that they may continue to find this comfort and help. But I do not attempt
to address them. What I have to say will interest the student of psychic matters
only.
In almost all cases where a discarnate spirit professes to speak I ask for an
account of its passing over. These accounts vary very little; they all retain
the same features, though some are more detailed than others. In all cases a
period of darkness is described as occurring almost immediately after death.
This darkness appears to be a penance or purgatory for the soul left thus in
lonely and silent meditation, and it is evidently a period of considerable
suffering. Yet during this time of darkness the spirit seems to be permitted to
speak to those on earth if such opportunity be offered to it. This state does
not seem to last long, not more than a week or ten days, so far as I can judge
from communicators who come repeatedly and speak of their present condition.
They frequently say that when light came, someone was near them, who led them
away to the place where, their "work" was. What the nature of this "work" is,
they seem unable to explain. Many communicators, when describing their
"passing," appear to have had a vision of the body before the darkness enveloped
them. Frequently when soldiers killed in battle have spoken they describe how
they rose into the air, and thus became aware that they had died. They tell how
the battlefield lay below them, with all the horror of its details, and how they
saw their own bodies lying on the field. Sometimes the vision extends, and they
see the body being carried away and buried. In the same way, some of those who
die in their beds describe the body lying there as when the spirit rose from it.
They can see the nurses preparing it for burial, the coffin, etc.
Beyond the period of darkness, I have had no clear or definite account of the
region in which the spirit dwells or the nature of its occupations. Some sitters
known to me, who approach the subject in a more religious and less experimental
spirit than myself, have had perfectly lucid accounts of the future state - even
the flowers and animals in the sphere to which the spirit is led after the first
darkness is past were described in detail. And in the communications received by
this circle the meeting of those who had been dear to each other on earth seemed
assured. All was peace, love, and tranquillity. The only promise of reunion I
have obtained from any communicator is that those whose spirits are merged in
each other in the fullest sense of the word - souls created at the same moment
(though perhaps sent on their earthly pilgrimage at different times) - will be
merged in each other in the future state.
From reviewing hundreds of messages from those who have passed away, I gather
that the spirit retains its earth-memory for a time. The time seems to vary with
the nature of the individual. The more rarefied and exalted the soul during its
earth-life, the shorter its span of earth memory seems to be after it has passed
through the barrier. These more highly developed souls seem gradually to rise
into a region from which it is perilous to touch the earth atmosphere, except
for a few minutes at a time. After this they disappear altogether. Quite lately
I had an instance of this. The communicator was a connection of my own, a very
refined, gentle, intellectual personality in his earth-life. He came to the
ouija-board repeatedly for some time while I happened to be in touch with his
family, and spoke in a way which was very evidential to them; he appeared to
find it impossible to communicate for more than a few minutes at a time. Then
there would be a long pause, and he would come again. He told us that after a
short time he would be unable to speak. He had died very suddenly, and seemed to
have passed quickly to a state of great peace and happiness, though he gave us
no account of his surroundings or occupations; he said it was forbidden, and
would, in any case, be incomprehensible to those still alive.
I shall now give details of two cases of communications received by me in
conjunction with another sitter (different in each case) through the
ouija-board, which consisted of facts absolutely unknown to the mediums, and
which were subsequently verified in every detail. The first of these two cases
came through in the winter of 1918. Our circle - which I have already referred
to in Chapter II - consisted at that time of three sitters - Mr. L., the Rev. S.
H., and myself, and a friend who acted as amanuensis and shorthand-writer.
During the sittings of this circle, which continued twice weekly for a year or
more, we had most remarkable results - the more so because we sat blindfolded. I
shall give a fuller account of these sittings in my chapter on Thought
Transference. It seemed that the really marvellous power of "seeing without
eyes" rested in this instance largely, or perhaps completely, with Mr. L. After
he had left Dublin and the circle was broken, the Rev. S. H. and I repeatedly
tried to get messages blindfolded, but without success. I have succeeded in
getting blindfold work through with other mediums, but none of them have the
rapidity and certainty possessed by Mr. L.
The message in question came very slowly - quite unlike others we had had, which
were spelt out so rapidly that our shorthand-writer could scarcely put them down
quickly enough. It seemed that this communicator was very weak. She gave her
name (I shall call her "Alice Franks"). Her address was a house in Upper
Norwood, and she told us the name and date of the newspaper in which her death
was announced. The message was not a long one; she described her last illness,
and said death had just occurred, and had been a happy release from pain. The
communication was not in itself especially interesting - many such come to a
circle of practised sitters - the evidence of identity was what was remarkable.
The lady was absolutely unknown to anyone present, but on investigation every
statement made by her at the ouija-board proved correct.
Sir William Barrett was in a position to make a careful investigation of this
case, which he kindly did, and learnt from the lady's relatives that the
information we had received was undoubtedly genuine, and must have been conveyed
to us in some supernormal manner.
I give here a portion of the scrip of this message:
Mrs. Travers Smith, the Rev. S. H., W. L. (All
blindfolded.)
(For whom is this message?) Everybody. (Spell your name.) Alice Franks. (Can't
you work quicker?) No. (Go on, please.) Your overbearing attitude will not make
me go any faster. I lived and died at ... Upper Norwood. (Did you die recently?)
Yes. (What date?)... I was unconscious for many days; I believe that I passed
over between Friday and yesterday morning. (Have you anything special to say?)
My pain was intense, and I am still in pain. Good-bye.
A more striking instance of evidence of identity is
one which is quoted by Sir William Barrett in his recent book, On the
Threshold of the Unseen, the "pearl tie-pin case." This came through one
evening when my friend Miss C. and I were sitting together. As in the case of
Alice Franks, this message was very brief, and Miss C. and I attached no
importance to it at the time. The name of a young cousin of Miss C.'s was spelt
out on the board. He had recently been killed at the front, and he stated that
he had been engaged to a girl whose name and address he gave in full, and asked
that his mother should be told that he wished her to give his fiancée his pearl
tie-pin in memory of him. The boy was only nineteen when he was killed, and this
seemed a most unlikely story. Miss C. laughed at it, and would not have
investigated it but that I asked her to write to the address given and discover
if the person mentioned lived there. This letter was returned to Miss C. as
incorrectly addressed, and we dismissed the case as hopeless. Some time
afterwards the young officer's relatives heard that he had willed all his
possessions to a girl whose name was the same as the one spelt out to us on the
ouija-board - though the address was different - and to whom he had been privately
engaged. This fact was absolutely unknown to his relatives.
Now, these two cases, to my thinking, can only be explained in one way - an ardent
desire on the part of some external influence to communicate with this world.
Surely it seems irrational to think that these messages came from any source
other than the discarnate spirits of these two persons. Something more
improbable and incredible may be suggested by way of explanation. I am inclined
to believe what is obvious.
I give these instances as being two of the most evidential we have had of
survival. Others have come to us of a like nature, but they are few and far
between compared to those to which I now pass: cases which do not furnish
definite proof of identity but which were most convincing in their substance
and in the manner they were expressed.
The first I mention came from a brother of Miss C.'s, who was killed in
Gallipoli. Miss C. did not sit until some time after his death, but almost
immediately after she began, he came with urgent messages for his mother. Mrs.
C. had been overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her son, and even after more
than a year and a half she was quite inconsolable. Lieutenant C. had been a most
pure and innocent-minded young man - a very spiritual person, in fact, and these
messages were all of the same nature, begging Miss C. to tell his mother that
her grief was keeping back his progress in the new sphere, and that he was
unable to rise until she ceased to mourn for him. He described himself as
"caught in the miasma of desire that shrouds the earth." Miss C. told her
mother, who made every effort to be more cheerful and forget her sorrow, and the
last time Miss C's brother spoke to her he seemed to be getting free from the
fetters which bound him to earth. He said he did not expect to be able to speak
again. These messages were very convincing to Miss C. Those urging her to speak
to her mother came through very rapidly, and gave her the sensation of intense
anxiety and excitement.
I had a strange experience myself with a communicator - a man who had been a,
friend of mine for many years, and from whom I had been estranged for a long
time before his death. This man died very suddenly of acute appendicitis, and on
the evening of his death I happened to be sitting. A mutual friend of his and
mine, who had passed over, communicated by the board, and asked me whether I
knew that Mr. V. was dead. I said I did not, and she suggested that I should
ring up the private hospital where he was. I did so, and found that he had died
about half an hour before. I returned to the board, and the same communicator
told me that he would speak to me at the next sitting. He came the following
week and for six weeks after, and we could get no other communications through.
He seemed intensely anxious to explain the very complicated circumstances which
had induced me to drop his acquaintance. This he did in a way which, I am bound
to confess, I should never have thought of. At last his persistency wearied us,
and I told him I could not speak to him any more. He replied that he would not
try to come again, and bid me farewell with the remark, "Love and hate make life
a ride in the dark."
The wording of these communications and the anxiety this man showed to explain
very strange circumstances connected with his life left no doubt in my mind that
I was speaking directly to his discarnate spirit; but this is one of the cases
that, from its private nature and also because there was no direct proof of
identity further than what I have mentioned, could only appeal, to those who
knew him intimately.
Although Sir William Barrett has described the "Hugh Lane case" in his latest
book, I feel my readers may be interested to hear what I have to say of it first
hand. The circumstances were these: I knew Sir Hugh Lane personally, and had
heard he had gone to America about a fortnight before the sinking of the
Lusitania. I had no idea why he had gone or how long he intended to stay.
About five o'clock on the day we heard of the loss of the Lusitania, I
saw posters on my way home saying "Lusitania reported sinking." I did not
buy a paper, and had no personal interest in the sinking ship, as I knew of no
one on board. Sir Hugh Lane's name did not occur to me, probably because he had
been in America such a very short time. A sitting was arranged for 8.30 o'clock
that evening, and before we began I felt a strange sensation of depression, so
much so that I went up to my bedroom and sat alone for a short time. I could not
have said why this feeling got hold of me; there was no special reason for it
that I knew of. At 8.30 o'clock I came down, and we began our sitting. The Rev. Savell Hicks recorded in silence, while Mr. Lennox Robinson and I sat
blindfolded and talked to each other while the message was being spelled out by
our hands. After a couple of minutes Mr. Hicks said, "Would you like to know who
is speaking? It is Sir Hugh Lane, and he says he has been drowned, and was on
board the Lusitania." We were terribly shocked - we both knew Sir Hugh -
and asked Mr. Hicks to read the message to us. It ran as follows: First the name
of our usual control, Peter; then, "Pray for Hugh Lane." Then, on being asked
who was speaking, "I am Hugh Lane; all is dark," came through. At this moment a
stop-press edition of the evening paper was called in the street, and Mr.
Robinson ran down and bought one. When he came up to me he pointed to the name
of Sir Hugh Lane among the passengers. We were both much distressed, but
continued our sitting. Sir Hugh Lane described the scene on board the
Lusitania. Panic, then boats lowered - "Women went first," he said. He
stated that he was last in an overcrowded boat, fell over, and lost all memory
until he "saw a light" at our sitting. He sent me a message about our last
meeting which was quite evidential so far as I could tell, and gave me greetings
and advice for very intimate friends of his and mine in Dublin. The number of
his cabin and the name of a fellow-passenger given by him were incorrect, so far
as I can discover.
This communication was very striking, but what followed was more evidential in
my opinion. Sir Hugh Lane continued to come, and at each sitting at which he
appeared he begged us to restrain any efforts of those who might wish to erect a
memorial gallery to him in Dublin. This he seemed to have a horror of. At the
same time he was most anxious that we should make every effort to have the
conditions of the codicil to his will carried out. He wishes his pictures to
come back to this city, and is much disturbed because the trustees of the
National Gallery are very justly reluctant to restore them to Dublin.
We had a very strange sitting - Mr. Lennox Robinson and I - last September, at
which Sir William Barrett was present. Before the sitting I had said to Sir
William Barrett that I thought the remarks of various people were justified who
considered the "Hugh Lane case" evidential to the sitters - who knew him
personally - but not to the outside public. After a communication had come
through from a man who said he died in Sheffield, and which in some particulars
proved to be correct - it was not possible to investigate them all - Sir Hugh
Lane came to the board, seized Mr. Robinson's arm, as he always does, and after
much difficulty in reading the message we discovered that he was much annoyed
with me because of the way I had spoken to Sir William Barrett about his first
communication on the night after the Lusitania sank. He was most violent
on this occasion, seizing Mr. Robinson's arm and driving it about so forcibly
that the traveller fell off the table more than once. Since then whenever we -
Mr. Robinson and I - have sat together, the same thing has happened. Sir Hugh
has come repeatedly, and always with the same message. He begs that we shall
believe that it was really he who spoke to us that night when the Lusitania
sank. He says any future words he speaks to us or anyone else will be
discredited if we put no faith in the first he spoke after he died.
The latest message we have had from Sir Hugh referred to the Lane Picture
meeting which was to be held at the Mansion House, Dublin, on January 29th,
1918. It came to Mr. Robinson and me on January 22nd, 1918. It ran as follows:
"Hugh Lane." (We said we wanted Peter instead, as we wished to do telepathic
experiments.) "I will not go. I want to speak, and this is my chance. I want you
to go to that meeting and tell them I can still let the world know my wishes.
Those pictures must be secured for Dublin; tell them I cannot rise or get rest:
it tortures me. Do you believe me? I am Hugh Lane!"
The last sentence was spelt
out very passionately. Mr. Robinson's arm was seized furiously.
These communications from Sir Hugh Lane are very evidential and convincing to us
who knew him; to the scientific observer I do not think there is anything which
could be called a genuine proof of identity, although certainly one fact was
mentioned entirely outside our subconsciousness - i.e., that Sir Hugh was on
board the lost ship. It must he remembered that this was spelt out before we
bought the stop-press with a list of the passengers. I am bound to confess that
the, fact that the communicator was so excitable on and after the sitting in
September did more to persuade Mr. Robinson and me that it was really Sir Hugh
than the whole Lusitania message. I have little or no doubt that the
influence which came was actually Sir Hugh Lane, but I do not ask my sceptical
readers who have not felt the tremendous energy of this communicator to share my
belief.
It seems to me that it is very difficult for persons who are not practical
workers to criticise these very intricate psychical phenomena. The outside
public is first thrilled by the supernatural nature of a communication such as
Sir Hugh Lane's on the night after the shipwreck; then comes the very natural
reaction towards doubt, unless the absolute identity of the spirit is proved. I
find, when I begin to criticise the experiences of other people, that this doubt
increases until it seems almost impossible that there is a fragment of proof of
survival in most of the messages which appear very convincing to sitters. From
long experience, however, I know that it is best to suspend judgment in matters
of this kind until one has had ample time to consider the circumstances.
Let us, for a moment, consider this case of Sir Hugh Lane from the point of view
of the convinced spiritualist; let us allow that the spirit of the drowned man
made a supreme effort, and succeeded in speaking to us; let us endeavour to
analyse his position.
The communication came through only a few hours after the sinking of the
Lusitania. There had without doubt been a period of intense excitement and
anxiety for Sir Hugh while he was still alive; then a period of unconsciousness,
let us hope, and then the slow awakening to find "all was dark," and that he was
no longer in this world. Did he speak to us as if in a dream? Was he fully
conscious? Did he communicate directly or through a control? Who can tell?
Living persons who have passed through intense nervous excitement are generally
dazed; their memories are confused and their statements are frequently far from
accurate. If we questioned them at such a moment about the past, we should
probably have very hazy and distracted replies to our questions. Take the case,
so fresh in the minds of many at the present time, of persons who have just
escaped the perils of a severe air-raid and have been close to the danger zone.
How many of such persons could give small details a few hours afterwards of the
circumstances in which they were placed - the number of the house they rushed
into, etc.? When we analyse the messages of those who have gone suddenly through
the gates of death, are we not somewhat unreasonable if we expect them to stand
a cross examination as though they stood in a law court? If their answers to our
questions are vague and unsatisfying, let us remember that we are speaking
normally of earthly affairs with our earth-memories strong and fresh, and that
our communicators' difficulties are unknown and probably incomprehensible to us.
I feel that if we interest ourselves at all in such messages from the dead, we
should extend our sympathy to the spirit; we should invariably assume at
sittings that communicators are genuine. How can we hope to arrive at any fair
conclusion if we judge supernormal circumstances by those that are familiar to
us, without making any allowance for the fact that our difficulties are probably
as nothing compared to those at the other side? Many persons appear to think
that when we die we become possessed at the moment of supernatural powers. In
fact, they believe that "we shall be changed" means far more than that we lose
the body. I do not think there is any indication from any source that when we
wake again we shall have suddenly acquired powers other than those we possessed
in the earth life.
The spirit of Sir Hugh Lane, after regaining consciousness and memory, found in
some mysterious way that it was possible to send a message back to the earth
through us. We had been friends of his, though not very intimate with him. In
the dazed and confused state in which he was, he grasped at anything which would
identify him in our memories. "Pray for Hugh Lane" came, he said, from the
control who permitted him to speak. We, very naturally, asked him questions
which would admit of concrete proof - the number of his cabin, etc. - and his
replies were, I believe, incorrect; they came slowly, I remember, as if it was
an effort to try to recall these details. What he seemed ardently to desire was
that we should give messages to very close friends of his in Dublin, to let them
know he had not suffered. He hardly mentioned his pictures, which were the great
interest of his life; his state of mind can hardly have been clear and calm.
Allowance should be made for all this by those who criticise the message in cold
blood. I hold no brief for the identity of Sir Hugh Lane on this occasion; I
merely take the case as an example. I am almost convinced it was he who spoke to
us at this and at many other sittings, but I do not ask my readers to believe me
on the slender evidence I give them. I ask them, before making up their minds
that such communications are true or false, to analyse them and weigh and
balance the situation.
Before I finish this chapter I wish to draw attention to a point which is a very
interesting one in my opinion. Why should any influence - control or
communicator - be attracted to the séance-room? What draws his attention to the
fact that a sitting is taking place? This is a question I almost invariably put
to controls and communicators, and their replies to the question are almost
always the same. They state that a bright light attracted them - and the
stronger the medium, the brighter the light. When I am sitting myself, and ask,
"What attracted you to this room?" the answer generally is, "I saw a woman
wrapped in flame." Sometimes they describe a brilliant light on the head of the
medium, but as psychic strength increases the light seems to envelop the whole
body of the sensitive. This light or flame appears to be pale - a clear white
fire," which seems to grow more vivid as the medium becomes more in touch with
the "spirit world." I often ask the communicator when several persons are
present, "How many people can you see in this room?" Generally the reply is, "I
can only see you." But if any particularly sensitive person is there, the
traveller moves towards him, and, having apparently had a good look at him, says
he can see him dimly, as if in a mist. Voices other than the medium's seem
difficult to hear. A question is seldom replied to unless asked by one of the
sitters.
I have observed that controls, when in doubt about some fact concerning one of
the sitters or anyone else present involved in the message which is being spelt
out, dart across towards the person in question, and make obvious efforts to get
into personal contact with him or her. The traveller waits opposite the
individual whose ideas it desires to analyse, and presses against his arm, or is
obviously glad if his hand is laid for a moment on the indicator.
Another interesting point is the association of the controls with certain
communicators. Each control seems to have his or her private circle of
acquaintances to draw from, and if you can "tell a man by his friends," you can
do so in the case of controls. Sir Hugh Lane never comes through any control but
Peter Rooney, who professes to "keep the unseen barrier that is supposed to
separate this world from the other sphere," and who admitted Sir Hugh in the
first instance. Eyen's communicators are most untrustworthy, and generally
parade fantastically in fancy costumes of an improbable kind, whereas Shamar's
circle is an interesting one. She is careful to send people who are worth
talking to, and takes some time to find them.
A curious fact, perhaps worth mentioning, is that I find when a pause comes
while the control is seeking a communicator, or when the traveller is at rest
for any reason, quite foolish and irrelevant little messages are liable to be
spelt out. These are the silliest things, and suggest that spirits of the
"poltergeist" type are playing with the traveller. I have also sometimes
observed a struggle at the board. This is conveyed to the mediums by a very
broken communication and very spasmodic and violent movements on the part of the
traveller. We are generally told when this happens that one entity has had a
struggle with another to gain access to the sitting.
Note:
The above article was taken from "Voices from The Void" by Hester Travers Smith
(London: E. P. Dutton, 1919).
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