Phantasms of the Living - Volume I.. Frank Podmore
which the word imagined by him has obtained an unconscious lodgment. The unconscious part of the percipient’s mind would thus be the scene of confluence of two separate telepathic streams, which proceed to combine there in an intelligent way—one proceeding from F’s mind, which produces unconscious knowledge of the word, and the other proceeding from A’s mind, which produces an unconscious image of the successive letters.1 Another possible supposition would be that F’s thought affects, not the “medium.” but A; or conversely, that A’s thought affects not the “medium,” but F;—that A obtains unconscious knowledge of the word, or that F obtains unconscious knowledge of the letter, and so is enabled to communicate an impulse to the “medium” at the right moment. And we should then have to suppose a secret understanding between two parts of A’s or F’s mind the part which takes account of the letters of the alphabet, and the part which takes account of the letters of the word—the former being conscious and the latter unconscious, or vice versâ, according as A or F is the party affected.
One hesitates to launch oneself on the conceptions which these experiments open up; but the only alternative would be to question the facts from an evidential point of view. So regarded, they are of an extremely simple kind; and if their genuineness be granted, we are reft once and for all from our old psychological moorings. The whole question of the psychical constitution of man is opened to its furthest depths; and our central conception—telepathy—the interest of which, even in its simpler phases, seemed almost unsurpassable, takes on an interest of a wholly unlooked-for kind. For it now appears as an all-important method or instrument for testing the mind in its hidden parts, and for measuring its unconscious operations.
§ 14. The above sketch (for it is little more) may give an idea of the chief experimental results so far obtained in the course of serious and systematic research.2 But though the investigation may be laboriously and consecutively pursued by those who make a special study of the subject, it is one which admits also of being prosecuted in a more haphazard and sporadic manner. A group of friends may take it up for a few evenings, and then get tired of it; and it is quite possible for valuable results to be obtained without any recognition of their value. One or two specimens of these casual successes that we so frequently hear of may be worth citing, if only because the knowledge that such results are obtainable may stimulate further trials. Our own satisfaction in such fragments of evidence is often more than counterbalanced by the impossibility of getting our friends to devote time and trouble to the work.
The following case, received in September, 1885, from Mrs. Wilson, of Westal, Cheltenham, is interesting as an apparent victory of “thought-reading” over “muscle-reading.” A group of five “willers” one of whom was in contact with the would-be percipient, were to concentrate their minds on the desire that the latter should sit down to the piano and strike the middle C. Had she done so, the result would have been worth little; but this was what happened:—
“When A. I. entered blindfolded—her hand in the hand of B, held over the forehead—M. A. W. was possessed with the desire to will her, without bodily contact, to come to her and give her a kiss on the forehead, and she at once exerted (unknown to the others) all her will to achieve this object. A. I. came slowly up to M. A. W., till she stood quite close, touching her, and commenced bending down towards her, when M. A. W., thinking it was hardly fair to succeed against the other ‘willers,’ tried to reverse her will, and with intense effort willed A. I. to turn away and not give the intended kiss. Slowly A. I raised her head, stood a moment still, then turned in another direction towards the piano, but not near it, and sat down in an armchair. A few seconds after she said: ‘I can’t feel any impression now, nor any wish to do anything.’ She was released from her bandage and questioned as to her feelings. ‘Did you get any impression of what you had to do 1 What did you feel?’ She replied: ‘I had a distinct feeling that I had to go and kiss M. A. W. on the forehead; but when I came up to someone and bent down to do it, I was sensible of a strong feeling that I was not to do it—and could not do it; and after that I could get no impression whatever.’
“MARY A. WILSON
“ALICE M. W. INGRAM
The percipient in both the following cases was our friend, the Hon. Alexander Yorke. In the summer of 1884 he mentioned to two nieces, as a joke, that some one had suggested to him the possibility of discerning the contents of letters pressed to the forehead; and this quack suggestion led by accident to an apparently genuine experiment in thought-transference.
The account is from the Misses Adeane, of 19, Ennismore Gardens, S.W.
“June, 1884.
“Taking a letter from a heap on my mother’s table, I glanced at the contents, and then placed it on my uncle’s head, where he held it. A minute had hardly elapsed before he said, quite quietly, ‘This letter is not addressed to your mother.’ He then paused, as if waiting for another impression. ‘It is written to Charlie’ (my brother), and another pause, ‘by an uncle—not a real uncle—a sort of uncle.’ Another pause, ‘It must be about business.’ At this point I was so much astonished that I could not help telling him how true and correct all his impressions had been, which practically put an end to the experiment by giving a clue as to what the business was, &c. My younger sister was the only other person in the room at the time. The letter was addressed to my brother at Oxford by his trustee, and uncle by marriage, and related to business; he had forwarded it to my mother to read, and I selected it partly by chance, and partly because I thought, if there was only guessing in the case, it would have been a puzzler. My uncle, Mr. Yorke, does not know the writer of the letter or his handwriting.
“MARIE C. ADEANE.”
“MAUDE ADEANE.”
Again, the mother of these informants, Lady Elizabeth Biddulph, writes to us, on June 12, 1884:—
“My girls came down to the drawing-room with my brother, Mr. Alexander Yorke, about 3.30 on Sunday afternoon, May 18th. I was sitting with one of Mr. Biddulph’s brothers, and his sister, Mrs. L. They had just brought me a letter sent by mistake to 31, Eaton Place. Presently Captain and Lady Edith Adeane came in, and then my two girls began telling us of what had happened upstairs. I immediately rushed at the letter I had just received, and laughing, held it to Mr. Yorke’s forehead: he objected, saying, ‘I shall probably fail, and then you will only laugh at the whole thing.’ He thrust my hand away, and I left the matter alone and went on talking to my relations. Presently my brother rose to go, and hesitating rather, said, ‘Well, my dear, the impression about that letter is so strong that I must tell you the Duchess of St. Albans wrote it.’ It was so. She does not correspond with me; the letter, too, having been addressed by mistake to 31, Eaton Place, made it more unlikely there should be any clue, and its contents were purely of a business-like character.
“ELIZABETH P. BIDDULPH.”
On another similar occasion, the present writer saw a letter taken up casually from a writing-table, and held to Mr. Yorke’s forehead, in such a way that he could not possibly catch a glimpse of the writing. He correctly described the writer as an elderly man, formerly connected with himself, but could not name him. The writer had, in fact, been his tutor at one time. It need hardly be said that no importance is to be attributed to the holding of the letters to the forehead. In every case the writer and the contents of the letter were known to some person in the percipient’s immediate vicinity, and that being so, any other hypothesis than that of thought-transference is gratuitous.
The following incident is an excellent casual illustration of the motor form of experiment to which the cases described on pp. 78-9 belonged. It presents, indeed, a point which would lead some to place it in a separate category: the names unexpectedly produced were those of dead persons. But where the “communication” contains nothing beyond the content, or the possible manufacture, of the minds of the living persons present, it seems reasonable to refer it to those minds—at any rate until the power of the dead to communicate with the living be established by accumulated and irrefragable evidence.
One evening in August,