Part 2

New inquirers are, for the most part, wholly ignorant with regard to the history of Spiritualism, which Mr. Waite, our chief living occultist, has called “a masque of anarchy.” The most respectable leaders of the movement are only too anxious to break with the ugly, disreputable past. A well-known authority says in Light: “It has been the misfortune of Spiritualism that many of its public expositions have been conducted in circumstances the reverse of dignified. It has suffered from contact with stupidity and cupidity, and its enemies have made the most of their numerous opportunities of holding it up to ridicule.”

Just as the Government of Ebert and Scheidemann pleaded with the Allies: “The past is past; the old bad system is gone for ever; let us write on this clean slate,” so the newer exponents of Spiritualism--even men like Sir Oliver Lodge and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle--seem inclined to pass over, sub silentio, all that was guilty and fraudulent in the records of seventy years. Such an amnesty could not be granted in public affairs. The framers of the Peace Treaty of 1919 were guided in every step they took by a knowledge of the crimes committed by Germany during the war. The greater her misdeeds, the sterner were the guarantees required. “Take up the study of Spiritualism without prejudice,” says the devotee to the ignorant new-comer. The words of Mr. Robert Hichens are in place, though they refer to the testing of individual character: “The question is, What is prejudice? The facts of a life are facts, and cannot leave one wholly uninfluenced for or against the liver of that life. If I see a man beating a dog because it has licked his hand, I draw the inference that he is cruel. Would you say that I am narrow-minded in doing so? If one does not judge men and women by their actions, by what is one to judge them?”

As with individuals, so with movements. “It is infinitely to be regretted,” says the French Spiritualist leader, Camille Flammarion, “that we cannot trust the loyalty of the mediums. They almost all cheat.” Are we to pass over such a sentence as of trifling importance, or shall we receive it as a warning against all attempts to pry into the fate of our dead by unlawful and unholy methods? “The judgment, the estimate, where they are,” wrote Bishop Francis Paget, “is formed with perfect knowledge, perfect love; and our loose guesses, our hasty impressions, our blundering words are like voices in the noisy street outside a church.”

FOOTNOTES:

May 10th, 1919.

Chapter II

DISTURBERS OF THE DEAD

Modern Spiritualism has its roots in Necromancy, a practice hated in all ages by sober and reverent minds. It was only the worst type of sorcerer, according to Mr. Waite, who attempted to communicate with the spirits of departed men and women. Mediæval magic had a by-path leading towards the abyss, “an abhorrent and detested branch, belonging exclusively to the domain of black magic.” The alchemist was bidden by his rules to pray as well as work. The astrologer was taught that in the last resort there is a law of grace by which the stars are governed, that “Christ rules all things, even the stars.” Though poisoning alchemists, like Alasco, in “Kenilworth,” or star-gazers, like Galeotti, in “Quentin Durward,” deceived Courts and peoples with a pretence of superior knowledge, there was nothing actually odious to the human mind in their professed and ostensible business. Necromancy, as Sir William Barrett points out, incurred the reprobation of Hebrew prophets, the statesmen and men of science of their day. From Moses to Isaiah, says this writer, we find them united in warning the people against any attempts to peer into and forecast the future, or to meddle with psychical phenomena for this or any lower purpose. “These practices,” he says, “were condemned ... irrespective of any question as to whether the phenomena were genuine or merely the product of trickery and superstition. They were prohibited ... mainly because they tended to obscure the Divine idea, to weaken the supreme faith in, and reverent worship of, the One Omnipotent Being, whom the nation was set apart to proclaim.” Sir W. F. Barrett quotes with approval the words of Sir George Adam Smith in his “Isaiah”: “Augury and divination wearied a people’s intellect, stunted their enterprise, distorted their conscience. Isaiah saw this, and warned the people: ‘Thy spells and enchantments with which thou hast wearied thyself have led thee astray.’ And in later years Juvenal’s strong conscience expressed the same sense of the wearisomeness and waste of time of these practices.”

It is fair to add that Sir William Barrett is convinced that the perils which beset the ancient world in the pursuit of psychical knowledge do not apply to scientific investigation to-day. Enough for our purpose that he lays emphasis on the warnings of Holy Scripture against intrusion into unhallowed realms.

How shall we explain the deep repugnance of the human mind, at its best and sanest, against any attempt to summon back the souls of the departed?

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in “The New Revelation,” admits that the opponents of Spiritualism are guided in part by that strange instinct which warns men and women to keep off forbidden ground. The man who would violate a grave is naturally regarded with loathing. Dickens, in “A Tale of Two Cities,” has drawn such a person in Tellson’s outside porter, Jerry Cruncher. Jerry’s good wife looks with horror on the night work of the body-snatcher, and Mr. Lorry says sternly to his employee: “You have had an unlawful occupation of an infamous description.” With even deeper aversion does the unsophisticated mind turn from those who seek to rend the veil which hangs between this world and the next.

If the stern voice from Sinai says “Thus far and no farther,” a tenderer reproach, breathed from earliest ages, warns presumptuous intruders who would disturb the dead. Here, again, we venture to quote the words of Mr. Waite: “There was a very strong and prevailing impression that the dead were at rest, and that the attempt to disturb that rest was a monstrous profanation.” Tennyson’s lines express the feeling of bereaved hearts, even where there was no hope of survival, in lands where Christianity was unknown:

“Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace: Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase, And the great ages onward roll.

“Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.”

Many sayings of Scripture confirm the Christian’s assurance that the faithful dead, having passed the waves of this troublesome world, are at rest in their desired haven. Newman’s words on the calm of Ascensiontide belong in part not only to the exalted Saviour, but to each of His brethren now absent from the body: “He is in the very abyss of peace, where there is no voice of tumult or distress, but a deep stillness--stillness, that greatest and most awful of all goods which we can fancy--that most perfect of joys, the utter, profound, ineffable tranquillity of the Divine essence. He has entered into his rest.”

Jesus said: “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; I go that I may awake him out of sleep.” St. Paul wrote: “I would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them that are asleep.” The Church does not interpret these and other passages as teaching that the dead are wrapped in profound unconsciousness, or that they are wholly unconcerned with dear ones left on earth. New activities may claim their interest, while old memories remain alive.

“For the breed of the Far-going, Who are strangers and all brothers, May forget no more than others Who look seaward with eyes flowing.”

But the New Testament use of the word “sleep” ought at least to warn us against meddling with their sacred rest.

III

Spiritualist teachers are not without a sense of the impropriety of such attempts, when pressed on grounds of curiosity alone. Sir William Barrett advises that those who have attained the assurance of survival by means of the séance should not pursue the matter further, but rather learn more of the spiritual world and spiritual communion from the Christian mystics of all countries. He recommends especially a study of the writings of Swedenborg. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, unlike Sir W. F. Barrett, regards Spiritualism as a religion, but he advises his readers to get away from the phenomenal side, and learn the “lofty teaching” from such books as those of Stainton Moses. The cult of the séance, he says, may be very much overdone. “When once you have convinced yourself of the truth of the phenomena, the physical séance has done its work, and the man or woman who spends his or her life in running from séance to séance is in danger of becoming a sensation-hunter.” In all such writing there is a note of uneasiness. The séance is not regarded as a “means of grace” for the believer in Spiritualism, therefore the outsider should avoid these dark and perilous ways. “Not for nothing,” says the Rev. Cyril E. Hudson, “has the Church throughout her history discouraged the practice of necromancy, the morbid concern with the dead which must inevitably interfere, and does in fact interfere, with the proper discharge of our duties in that plane of existence in which God has placed us.”

FOOTNOTES:

Nineteenth Century, May, 1919, p. 919.

Chapter III

THE MEDIUM

In ordinary trance-mediumship, at least four distinct entities are involved. There is first the inquirer, next the medium, thirdly the medium’s alleged “control” or controlling spirit, and, lastly, the presumed discarnate being who speaks to the inquirer through the “control” and through the medium.

“Mediumship” is a word with ugly associations, as every honest-minded Spiritualist will admit. It used to be said that the Psychical Society found its chief occupation in exposing fraud and trickery. The great Russian authority, Aksakof, complained bitterly of the frequent transmission of obviously false messages. He wrote of “the deception which appeared along with the dark séance and materialisations, and which was confirmed in my experience, not only from literature, but also through my personal relations with the most celebrated professional mediums.” He would have agreed with Mrs. Sidgwick’s words: “The chief scandal of Spiritualism is the encouragement it gives to the immoral trade of fraudulent mediumship.”

On that point, inquirers should note, there is no dispute at all among responsible investigators. In the earlier stages of the movement exposures were so numerous that a theory was evolved to account for them. It was admitted that in many cases the medium cheated, but it was alleged that this was done unconsciously, and that the fraud was really perpetrated from the other side. The late Professor De Morgan wrote of certain phenomena: “If these things be spirits, they show that pretenders, coxcombs and liars are to be found on the other side of the grave as well as on this.” The idea was also elaborated that an uncongenial “circle” might induce bad spirits to play tricks with the medium.

“The cheating medium,” as Mr. Waite puts it, “was sure of his defence. He was caught red-handed, but it was the ill-conditioned circle that attracted the ‘unprogressed spirits’ to tempt him. He carried the baggage of a conjuror on his tours, but the real infamy rested with the persons who had dared to trespass on the liberty of the subject by ransacking his private effects.” Kind-hearted men and women would make any excuse rather than admit that a favourite “psychic” had been guilty of conscious deception.