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diff --git a/old/67625-0.txt b/old/67625-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d14a624..0000000 --- a/old/67625-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5842 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Gleanings from Maeterlinck, by Maurice -Maeterlinck - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Gleanings from Maeterlinck - -Author: Maurice Maeterlinck - -Translator: Alexander Teixera de Mattos - -Release Date: March 13, 2022 [eBook #67625] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Mark C. Orton and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLEANINGS FROM -MAETERLINCK *** - - - -Methuen’s Shilling Novels - - 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli - 2 Jane Marie Corelli - 3 Boy Marie Corelli - 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham - 5 The Search Party G. A. Birmingham - 6 Teresa of Watling Street Arnold Bennett - 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde - 12 The Demon C. N. and A. M. Williamson - 17 Joseph Frank Danby - 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle - 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs - 22 The Long Road John Oxenham - 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett - 72 Short Cruises W. W. Jacobs - 81 The Card Arnold Bennett - 87 Lalage’s Lovers G. A. Birmingham - 92 White Fang Jack London - 105 The Wallet of Kai Lung Ernest Bramah - 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham - 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed - 115 Old Rose and Silver Myrtle Reed - 122 The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton E. Phillips Oppenheim - 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett - 127 Sally Dorothea Conyers - 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes - 135 A Spinner in the Sun Myrtle Reed - 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer - 139 The Golden Centipede Louise Gerard - 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson - 142 The Way of these Women E. Phillips Oppenheim - 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers - 145 Chance Joseph Conrad - 148 Flower of the Dusk Myrtle Reed - 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey - 154 The Hyena of Kallu Louise Gerard - 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin - 191 My Lady of Shadows John Oxenham - 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah - 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad - 213 The Kloof Bride Ernest Glanville - 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim - 216 The Wonder of Love E. M. Albanesi - 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed - 219 The Family Elinor Mordaunt - 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont - 221 The Kinsman Mrs. Sidgwick - 222 Emmanuel Burden Hilaire Belloc - 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham - 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen - 227 Byeways Robert Hichens - 228 Gossamer G. A. Birmingham - 229 My Friend the Chauffeur C. N. and A. M. Williamson - 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake - 231 Cameos Marie Corelli - 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker - 233 Victory Joseph Conrad - -A Selection only. - - -Methuen’s Shilling Library - - 36 De Profundis Oscar Wilde - 37 Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime Oscar Wilde - 38 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde - 39 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde - 40 Intentions Oscar Wilde - 41 Lady Windermere’s Fan Oscar Wilde - 42 Charmides and other Poems Oscar Wilde - 43 Harvest Home E. V. Lucas - 44 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas - 45 Vailima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson - 46 Hills and the Sea Hilaire Belloc - 47 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck - 50 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton - 53 Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to - his Son George Horace Lorimer - 54 The Life of John Ruskin W. G. Collingwood - 57 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy - 58 The Lore of the Honey-Bee Tickner Edwardes - 60 From Midshipman to Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood - 62 John Boyes, King of the Wa-Kikuyu John Boyes - 63 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome - 64 The Vicar of Morwenstow S. Baring-Gould - 65 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould - 76 Home Life in France M. Betham-Edwards - 77 Selected Prose Oscar Wilde - 78 The Best of Lamb E. V. Lucas - 80 Selected Letters Robert Louis Stevenson - 83 Reason and Belief Sir Oliver Lodge - 85 The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde - 91 Social Evils and their Remedy Leo Tolstoy - 93 The Substance of Faith Sir Oliver Lodge - 94 All Things Considered G. K. Chesterton - 95 The Mirror of the Sea Joseph Conrad - 96 A Picked Company Hilaire Belloc - 116 The Survival of Man Sir Oliver Lodge - 126 Science from an Easy Chair Sir Ray Lankester - 141 Variety Lane E. V. Lucas - 144 A Shilling for my Thoughts G. K. Chesterton - 146 A Woman of No Importance Oscar Wilde - 149 A Shepherd’s Life W. H. Hudson - 193 On Nothing Hilaire Belloc - 200 Jane Austen and her Times G. E. Mitton - 214 Select Essays Maurice Maeterlinck - 223 Two Generations Leo Tolstoy - 226 On Everything Hilaire Belloc - 234 Records and Reminiscences Sir Francis Burnand - -A Selection only. - - - - -GLEANINGS FROM MAETERLINCK - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - - THE BLUE BIRD - OUR ETERNITY - DEATH - MARY MAGDALENE - THE UNKNOWN GUEST - THE WRACK OF THE STORM - THE TREASURE OF THE HUMBLE - WISDOM AND DESTINY - THE LIFE OF THE BEE - THE BURIED TEMPLE - THE DOUBLE GARDEN - LIFE AND FLOWERS - AGLAVAINE AND SELYSETTE - MONNA VANNA - JOYZELLE - SISTER BEATRICE; AND ARIANE AND BARBE BLEUE - MY DOG - OLD-FASHIONED FLOWERS - HOURS OF GLADNESS - - - - - GLEANINGS FROM - MAETERLINCK - - TRANSLATED AND COMPILED BY - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS - - METHUEN & CO. LTD. - 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. - LONDON - - _First Published in 1917_ - - _All rights reserved_ - - _Copyright U.S.A. by Dodd, Mead & Co. Inc. - 1913 to 1917._ - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -In the first act of _The Blue Bird_, the fairy Bérylune sends Mytyl -and Tyltyl in search of happiness. Shepherded and protected by Light, -they explore the Past and the Future, the Palace of Night, the Kingdoms -of the Dead and of the Unborn. At one moment they find themselves in -a graveyard; and Mytyl grows fearful at her first contact with the -great mystery of Death. Yet the graveyard with its wooden crosses and -grass-covered mounds is moonlit and tranquil; and of a sudden, as the -revealing diamond is turned in Tyltyl’s fingers, even the tombstones -and ‘all the grand investiture of death’ disappear, to be replaced by -luxuriant, swaying clusters of Madonna lilies. - -“Where are the dead?” asks Mytyl, in amazement, searching in the grass -for traces of even one tombstone. - -Her brother also looks: - -“There are no dead,” is his reply. - -Any one who was present on the first night of the play at the Haymarket -Theatre, in 1909, will not easily forget the audience’s little gasp of -delighted surprise. Yet the two lines of dialogue were more than a stage -effect, more than an aspect of mysticism; almost they may be regarded -as the essence of Maeterlinck’s later work. Since the _Life of the -Bee_, since the earlier essays and such pure drama as _Monna Vanna_, -_The Blind_ and _Pelléas and Mélisande_, his mind seems to have been -brooding more and more on the part which Death, the great twin mystery -of the world, plays in the life of man and of the race. In _The Death of -Tintagiles_ there is a barred and studded door, through which, for all -its studs and bars, there steals a miasma of dread. And, when the door -opens, it is to release a spirit of annihilation which the concerted -efforts of Tintagiles’ sisters can neither restrain nor force back. - -In _The Blue Bird_ we are shown that a man cannot die so long as -he dwells in the memory of those who loved him. In his latest work -Maeterlinck gives to the dead an objective existence. In part each -generation survives its own death and transmits to its successors the -heritage of aspiration and achievement, of knowledge and passion, which -it has received from its predecessors; in greater part the objective -existence is founded on new modes of communication, a new study of -psychic relationship and a new belief in a subliminal state. - -I have collected in the present volume a selection of essays illustrating -the later stages of Maeterlinck’s quest. Never in history have so -many women and men, stricken suddenly and without warning, sought so -unanimously and painfully to penetrate the veil wherein the world’s -oldest mystery is shrouded. The finality of death was a challenge flung -down and eagerly taken up by all whom the loss of son or brother had -taken unawares. To Maeterlinck the war has brought in great part the -annihilation of a people, his own people; it has inspired him to a -splendour of indignation and pity; but, more gravely and urgently than -ever before, it has demanded of him an answer to the question of the -Sadducees, who “say there is no resurrection.” - -Readers wishing to study the complete series of essays from which the -sixteen in this volume are taken will find them in the three books -entitled, _Our Eternity_, _The Unknown Guest_ and _The Wrack of the -Storm_, all of which are issued by the present publishers. - - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS - -CHELSEA, _9 April 1917_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION vii - - I. OUR INJUSTICE TO DEATH 13 - - II. ANNIHILATION 31 - - III. COMMUNICATIONS WITH THE DEAD 37 - - IV. OUR ULTIMATE CONSCIOUSNESS 63 - - V. THE TWO ASPECTS OF INFINITY 75 - - VI. OUR FATE IN THOSE INFINITIES 89 - - VII. CONCLUSIONS 105 - - VIII. THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE FUTURE 115 - - IX. HEROISM 181 - - X. ON RE-READING THUCYDIDES 193 - - XI. THE DEAD DO NOT DIE 205 - - XII. IN MEMORIAM 213 - - XIII. THE LIFE OF THE DEAD 217 - - XIV. THE WAR AND THE PROPHETS 225 - - XV. THE WILL OF EARTH 237 - - XVI. WHEN THE WAR IS OVER 247 - - - - -I - -OUR INJUSTICE TO DEATH - - -1 - -It has been well said: - -“Death and death alone is what we must consult about life; and not some -vague future or survival, where we shall not be. It is our own end; and -everything happens in the interval between death and now. Do not talk -to me of those imaginary prolongations which wield over us the childish -spell of number; do not talk to me—to me who am to die outright—of -societies and peoples! There is no reality, there is no true duration, -save that between the cradle and the grave. The rest is mere bombast, -show, delusion! They call me a master because of some magic in my speech -and thoughts; but I am a frightened child in the presence of death!”[1] - - -2 - -That is where we stand. For us, death is the one event that counts in -our life and in our universe. It is the point whereat all that escapes -our vigilance unites and conspires against our happiness. The more our -thoughts struggle to turn away from it, the closer do they press around -it. The more we dread it, the more dreadful it becomes, for it but -thrives upon our fears. He who seeks to forget it has his memory filled -with it; he who tries to shun it meets naught else. It clouds everything -with its shadow. But though we think of death incessantly, we do so -unconsciously, without learning to know death. We compel our attention -to turn its back upon it, instead of going to it with uplifted head. -All the forces which might avail to face death we exhaust in averting -our will from it. We deliver it into the groping hands of instinct and -we grant it not one hour of our intelligence. Is it surprising that the -idea of death, which should be the most perfect and the most luminous -of ideas—being the most persistent and the most inevitable—remains the -flimsiest and the only one that is a laggard? How should we know the one -power which we never look in the face? How could it have profited by -gleams kindled only to help us escape it? To fathom its abysses, we wait -until the most enfeebled, the most disordered moments of our life arrive. -We do not begin to think of death until we have no longer the strength, -I will not say, to think, but even to breathe. A man returning among us -from another century would have difficulty in recognizing, in the depths -of a present-day soul, the image of his gods, of his duty, of his love -or of his universe; but the figure of death, when everything has changed -around it and when even that which composes it and upon which it depends -has vanished, he would find almost untouched, rough-drawn as it was by -our fathers, hundreds, nay, thousands of years ago. Our intelligence, -grown so bold and active, has not worked upon this figure, has not, so to -speak, retouched it in any way. Though we may no longer believe in the -tortures of the damned, all the vital cells of the most sceptical among -us are still steeped in the appalling mystery of the Hebrew Sheol, the -pagan Hades, or the Christian Hell. Though it may no longer be lighted -by very definite flames, the gulf still opens at the end of life and, if -less known, is all the more formidable. And therefore, when the impending -hour strikes to which we dared not raise our eyes, everything fails us -at the same time. Those two or three uncertain ideas whereon, without -examining them, we had meant to lean give way like rushes beneath the -weight of the last minutes. In vain we seek a refuge among reflections -which are illusive or are strange to us and which do not know the roads -to our heart. No one awaits us on the last shore where all is unprepared, -where naught remains afoot save terror. - - -3 - -Bossuet, the great poet of the tomb, says: - -“It is not worthy of a Christian”—and I would add, of a man—“to postpone -his struggle with death until the moment when it arrives to carry him -off.” - -It were a salutary thing for each of us to work out his idea of death in -the light of his days and the strength of his intelligence and stand by -it. He would say to death: - -“I know not who you are, or I would be your master; but, in days when my -eyes saw clearer than to-day, I learnt what you were not: that is enough -to prevent you from becoming mine.” - -He would thus bear, graven on his memory, a tried image against which the -last agony would not prevail and from which the phantom-stricken eyes -would draw fresh comfort. Instead of the terrible prayer of the dying, -which is the prayer of the depths, he would say his own prayer, that -of the peaks of his existence, where would be gathered, like angels of -peace, the most lucid, the most rarefied thoughts of his life. Is not -that the prayer of prayers? After all, what is a true and worthy prayer, -if not the most ardent and disinterested effort to reach and grasp the -unknown? - - -4 - -“The doctors and the priests,” said Napoleon, “have long been making -death grievous.” - -And Bacon wrote: - -“_Pompa mortis magis terret quam mors ipsa._” - -Let us, then, learn to look upon death as it is in itself, free from -the horrors of matter and stripped of the terrors of the imagination. -Let us first get rid of all that goes before and does not belong to it. -Thus we impute to it the tortures of the last illness; and that is not -just. Illnesses have nothing in common with that which ends them. They -form part of life and not of death. We readily forget the most cruel -sufferings that restore us to health; and the first sun of convalescence -destroys the most unbearable memories of the chamber of pain. But let -death come; and at once we overwhelm it with all the evil done before -it. Not a tear but is remembered and used as a reproach, not a cry of -pain but becomes a cry of accusation. Death alone bears the weight of -the errors of nature or the ignorance of science that have uselessly -prolonged torments in whose name we curse death because it puts a term to -them. - - -5 - -In point of fact, whereas sicknesses belong to nature or to life, the -agony, which seems peculiar to death, is wholly in the hands of men. Now -what we most dread is the awful struggle at the end and especially the -last, terrible second of rupture which we shall perhaps see approaching -during long hours of helplessness and which suddenly hurls us, naked, -disarmed, abandoned by all and stripped of everything, into an unknown -that is the home of the only invincible terrors which the soul of man has -ever felt. - -It is doubly unjust to impute the torments of that second to death. -We shall see presently in what manner a man of to-day, if he would -remain faithful to his ideas, should picture to himself the unknown -into which death flings us. Let us confine ourselves here to the last -struggle. As science progresses, it prolongs the agony which is the most -dreadful moment and the sharpest peak of human pain and horror, for the -watchers, at least; for very often the consciousness of him whom death, -in Bossuet’s phrase, has “brought to bay” is already greatly dulled and -perceives no more than the distant murmur of the sufferings which it -seems to be enduring. All doctors consider it their first duty to prolong -to the uttermost even the cruellest pangs of the most hopeless agony. -Who has not, at the bedside of a dying man, twenty times wished and not -once dared to throw himself at their feet and implore them to show mercy? -They are filled with so great a certainty and the duty which they obey -leaves so little room for the least doubt that pity and reason, blinded -by tears, curb their revolt and recoil before a law which all recognize -and revere as the highest law of man’s conscience. - - -6 - -One day, this prejudice will strike us as barbarous. Its roots go down -to the unacknowledged fears left in the heart by religions that have -long since died out in the intelligence of men. That is why the doctors -act as though they were convinced that there is no known torture but is -preferable to those awaiting us in the unknown. They seem persuaded that -every minute gained amid the most intolerable sufferings is snatched from -the incomparably more dreadful sufferings which the mysteries of the -hereafter reserve for men; and of two evils, to avoid that which they -know to be imaginary, they choose the only real one. Besides, in thus -postponing the end of a torture, which, as old Seneca says, is the best -part of that torture, they are but yielding to the unanimous error which -makes its enclosing circle more iron-bound every day: the prolongation -of the agony increasing the horror of death; and the horror of death -demanding the prolongation of the agony. - - -7 - -The doctors, on their side, say or might say that, in the present stage -of science, two or three cases excepted, there is never a certainty -of death. Not to support life to its last limits, even at the cost of -insupportable torments, might be murder. Doubtless there is not one -chance in a hundred thousand that the patient escape. No matter: if that -chance exist which, in the majority of cases, will give but a few days, -or, at the utmost, a few months of a life that will not be the real life, -but much rather, as the Romans called it, “an extended death,” those -hundred thousand useless torments will not have been in vain. A single -hour snatched from death outweighs a whole existence of tortures. - -Here we have, face to face, two values that cannot be compared; and, if -we mean to weigh them in the same balance, we must heap the scale which -we see with all that remains to us, that is to say, with every imaginable -pain, for at the decisive hour this is the only weight which counts and -which is heavy enough to raise by a hair’s-breadth the other scale that -dips into what we do not see and is loaded with the thick darkness of -another world. - - -8 - -Swollen by so many adventitious horrors, the horror of death becomes such -that, without reasoning, we accept the doctors’ reasons. And yet there -is one point on which they are beginning to yield and to agree. They are -slowly consenting, when there is no hope left, if not to deaden, at least -to dull the last agonies. Formerly, none of them would have dared to do -so; and, even to-day, many of them hesitate and, like misers, measure -out niggardly drops of the clemency and peace which they ought to lavish -and which they grudge in their dread of weakening the last resistance, -that is to say, the most useless and painful quiverings of reluctant life -refusing to give place to on-coming rest. - -It is not for me to decide whether their pity might show greater daring. -It is enough to state once more that all this has no concern with death. -It happens before it and beneath it. It is not the arrival of death but -the departure of life that is appalling. It is not death but life that -we must act upon. It is not death that attacks life; it is life that -wrongfully resists death. Evils hasten from every side at the approach of -death, but not at its call; and, though they gather round it, they did -not come with it. Do you accuse sleep of the fatigue that oppresses you -if you do not yield to it? All those strugglings, those waitings, those -tossings, those tragic cursings are on the side of the slope to which -we cling and not on the other side. They are, indeed, accidental and -temporary and emanate only from our ignorance. All our knowledge merely -helps us to die a more painful death than the animals that know nothing. -A day will come when science will turn upon its error and no longer -hesitate to shorten our woes. A day will come when it will dare and act -with certainty; when life, grown wiser, will depart silently at its hour, -knowing that it has reached its term, even as it withdraws silently every -evening, knowing that its task is done. Once the doctor and the sick -man have learnt what they have to learn, there will be no physical nor -metaphysical reason why the advent of death should not be as salutary as -that of sleep. Perhaps even, as there will be nothing else to take into -consideration, it will be possible to surround death with profounder -ecstasies and fairer dreams. In any case and from this day, with death -once acquitted of that which goes before, it will be easier to look upon -it without fear and to lighten that which comes after. - - -9 - -Death, as we usually picture it, has two terrors looming behind it. The -first has neither face nor form and permeates the whole region of our -mind; the other is more definite, more explicit, but almost as powerful. -The latter strikes all our senses. Let us examine it first. - -Even as we impute to death all the evils that precede it, so do we add -to the dread which it inspires all that happens beyond it, thus doing it -the same injustice at its going as at its coming. Is it death that digs -our graves and orders us to keep that which is made to disappear? If we -cannot think without horror of what befalls the beloved in the grave, is -it death or we that placed him there? Because death carries the spirit -to some place unknown, shall we reproach it with our bestowal of the -body which it leaves with us? Death descends into our midst to change -the place of a life or change its form: let us judge it by what it does -and not by what we do before it comes and after it is gone. For it is -already far away when we begin the frightful work which we try hard to -prolong to the very utmost, as though we were persuaded that it is our -only security against forgetfulness. I am well aware that, from any -other than the human point of view, this proceeding is very innocent; -and that, looked upon from a sufficient height, decomposing flesh is no -more repulsive than a fading flower or a crumbling stone. But, when all -is said, it offends our senses, shocks our memory, daunts our courage, -whereas it would be so easy for us to avoid the foul ordeal. Purified -by fire, the remembrance lives enthroned as a beautiful idea; and death -is naught but an immortal birth cradled in flames. This has been well -understood by the wisest and happiest nations in history. What happens -in our graves poisons our thoughts together with our bodies. The figure -of death, in the imagination of men, depends before all upon the form -of burial; and the funeral rites govern not only the fate of those who -depart but also the happiness of those who stay, for they raise in the -ultimate background of life the great image upon which men’s eyes linger -in consolation or despair. - - -10 - -There is, therefore, but one terror particular to death: that of the -unknown into which it hurls us. In facing it, let us lose no time in -putting from our minds all that the positive religions have left there. -Let us remember only that it is not for us to prove that they are not -proved, but for them to establish that they are true. Now not one of them -brings us a proof before which an honest intelligence can bow. Nor would -it suffice if that intelligence were able to bow; for man lawfully to -believe and thus to limit his endless seeking, the proof would need to -be irresistible. The God offered to us by the best and strongest of them -has given us our reason to employ loyally and fully, that is to say, to -try to attain, before all and in all things, that which appears to be the -truth. Can He exact that we should accept, in spite of it, a belief whose -doubtfulness, from the human point of view, is not denied by its wisest -and most ardent defenders? He only offers us a very uncertain story, -which, even if scientifically substantiated, would be merely a beautiful -lesson in morality and which is buttressed by prophecies and miracles -no less doubtful. Must we here call to mind that Pascal, to defend that -creed which was already tottering at a time when it seemed at its zenith, -vainly attempted a demonstration the mere aspect of which would be enough -to destroy the last remnant of faith in a wavering mind? Better than any -other, he knew the stock proofs of the theologians, for they had been -the sole study of the last years of his life. If but one of these proofs -could have resisted examination, his genius, one of the three or four -most profound and lucid geniuses ever known to mankind, must have given -it an irresistible force. But he does not linger over these arguments, -whose weakness he feels too well; he pushes them scornfully aside, he -glories and, in a manner, rejoices in their futility: - -“Who then will blame Christians for not being able to give a reason for -their faith, those who profess a religion for which they cannot give -a reason? They declare, in presenting it to the world, that it is a -foolishness, _stultitiam_; and then you complain that they do not prove -it! If they proved it, they would not be keeping their word; it is in -being destitute of proofs that they are not destitute of sense.” - -His solitary argument, the one to which he clings desperately and -devotes all the power of his genius, is the very condition of man in the -universe, that incomprehensible medley of greatness and wretchedness, for -which there is no accounting save by the mystery of the first fall: - -“For man is more incomprehensible without that mystery than the mystery -itself is incomprehensible to man.” - -He is therefore reduced to establishing the truth of the Scriptures by -an argument drawn from the very Scriptures in question; and—what is more -serious—to explain a wide and great and indisputable mystery by another, -small, narrow and crude mystery that rests only upon the legend which -it is his business to prove. And, let us observe in passing, it is a -fatal thing to replace one mystery by another and lesser mystery. In -the hierarchy of the unknown, mankind always ascends from the smaller -to the greater. On the other hand, to descend from the greater to the -smaller is to relapse into the condition of primitive man, who carries -his barbarism to the point of replacing the infinite by a fetish or an -amulet. The measure of man’s greatness is the greatness of the mysteries -which he cultivates or on which he dwells. - -To return to Pascal, he feels that everything is crumbling around him; -and so, in the collapse of human reason, he at last offers us the -monstrous wager that is the supreme avowal of the bankruptcy and despair -of his faith. God, he says, meaning his God and the Christian religion -with all its precepts and all its consequences, exists or does not exist. -We are unable, by human arguments, to prove that He exists or that He -does not exist. - -“If there is a God, He is infinitely incomprehensible, because, having -neither divisions nor bounds, He has no relation to us. We are therefore -incapable of knowing either what He is or if He is.” - -God is or is not. - -“But to which side shall we lean? Reason can determine nothing about it. -There is an infinite gulf that separates us. A game is played at the -uttermost part of this infinite distance, in which heads may turn up or -tails. Which will you wager? There is no reason for betting on either one -or the other; you cannot reasonably defend either.” - -The correct course would be not to wager at all. - -“Yes, but you must wager: this is not a matter for your will; you are -launched in it.” - -Not to wager that God exists means wagering that He does not exist, for -which He will punish you eternally. What then do you risk by wagering, -at all hazards, that He exists? If He does not, you lose a few small -pleasures, a few wretched comforts of this life, because your little -sacrifice will not have been rewarded; if He exists, you gain an eternity -of unspeakable happiness. - -“‘It is true, but, in spite of all, I am so made that I cannot believe.’ - -“Never mind, follow the way in which they began who believe and who at -first did not believe either, taking holy water, having masses said, etc. -That in itself will make you believe and will reduce you to the level of -the beasts.” - -“‘But that is just what I am afraid of.’ - -“Why? What have you to lose?” - -Nearly three centuries of apologetics have not added one useful argument -to that terrible and despairing page of Pascal. And this is all that -human intelligence has found to compel our life. If the God who demands -our faith will not have us decide by our reason, by what then must our -choice be made? By usage? By the accidents of race or birth, by some -æsthetic or sentimental pitch-and-toss? Or has He set within us another -higher and surer faculty, before which the understanding must yield? If -so, where is it? What is its name? If this God punishes us for not having -blindly followed a faith that does not force itself irresistibly upon -the intelligence which He gave us; if He chastises us for not having -made, in the presence of the great enigma with which He confronts us, -a choice which is rejected by that best and most divine part which He -has implanted in us, we have nothing left to reply: we are the dupes of -a cruel and incomprehensible sport, we are the victims of a terrible -snare and an immense injustice; and, whatever the torments wherewith that -injustice may load us, they will be less intolerable than the eternal -presence of its Author. - - - - -II - -ANNIHILATION - - -1 - -And now we stand before the abyss. It is void of all the dreams with -which our fathers peopled it. They thought that they knew what was there; -we know only what is not there. It is the vaster by all that we have -learned to know nothing of. While waiting for a scientific certainty to -break through its darkness—for man has the right to hope for that which -he does not yet conceive—the only point that interests us, because it is -situated in the little circle which our actual intelligence traces in the -thickest blackness of the night, is to know whether the unknown for which -we are bound will be dreadful or not. - -Outside the religions, there are four imaginable solutions and no more: -total annihilation; survival with our consciousness of to-day; survival -without any sort of consciousness; lastly, survival in the universal -consciousness, or with a consciousness different from that which we -possess in this world. - - -2 - -Total annihilation is impossible. We are the prisoners of an infinity -without outlet, wherein nothing perishes, wherein everything is -dispersed but nothing lost. Neither a body nor a thought can drop out -of the universe, out of time and space. Not an atom of our flesh, not a -quiver of our nerves will go where they will cease to be, for there is no -place where anything ceases to be. The brightness of a star extinguished -millions of years ago still wanders in the ether where our eyes will -perhaps behold it this very night, pursuing its endless road. It is the -same with all that we see, as with all that we do not see. To be able -to do away with a thing, that is to say, to fling it into nothingness, -nothingness would have to exist; and, if it exists, under whatever form, -it is no longer nothingness. As soon as we try to analyse it, to define -it, or to understand it, thoughts and expressions fail us, or create that -which they are struggling to deny. It is as contrary to the nature of our -reason and probably of all imaginable reason to conceive nothingness as -to conceive limits to infinity. Nothingness, besides, is but a negative -infinity, a sort of infinity of darkness opposed to that which our -intelligence strives to illumine, or rather it is but a child-name or -nickname which our mind has bestowed upon that which it has not attempted -to embrace, for we call nothingness all that escapes our senses or our -reason and exists without our knowledge. - - -3 - -But, it will perhaps be said, though the annihilation of every world -and every thing be impossible, it is not so certain that their death is -impossible; and, to us, what is the difference between nothingness and -everlasting death? Here again we are led astray by our imagination and by -words. We can no more conceive death than we can conceive nothingness. -We use the word death to cover those fragments of nothingness which we -believe that we understand; but, on closer examination, we are bound to -recognize that our idea of death is much too puerile to contain the least -truth. It reaches no higher than our own bodies and cannot measure the -destinies of the universe. We give the name of death to anything that has -a life a little different from ours. Even so do we act towards a world -that appears to us motionless and frozen, the moon, for instance, because -we are persuaded that any form of existence, animal or vegetable, is -extinguished upon it for ever. But it is now some years since we learned -that the most inert matter, to outward seeming, is animated by movements -so powerful and furious that all animal or vegetable life is no more than -sleep and immobility by the side of the swirling eddies and immeasurable -energy locked up in a wayside stone. - -“There is no room for death!” cried Emily Brontë. - -But, even if, in the infinite series of the centuries, all matter should -really become inert and motionless, it would none the less persist under -one form or another; and persistence, though it were in total immobility, -would, after all, be but a form of life stable and silent at last. All -that dies falls into life; and all that is born is of the same age as -that which dies. If death carried us to nothingness, did birth then draw -us out of that same nothingness? Why should the second be more impossible -than the first? The higher human thought rises and the wider it expands, -the less comprehensible do nothingness and death become. In any case—and -this is what matters here—if nothingness were possible, since it could -not be anything whatever, it could not be dreadful. - - - - -III - -COMMUNICATIONS WITH THE DEAD - - -1 - -The spiritualists communicate or think that they communicate with the -dead by means of what they call automatic speech and writing. These are -obtained by the agency of a medium[2] in a state of ecstasy, or rather -“trance,” to employ the vocabulary of the new science. This condition -is not one of hypnotic sleep, nor does it seem to be an hysterical -manifestation; it is often associated, as in the case of the medium -Mrs. Piper, with perfect health and complete intellectual and physical -balance. It is rather the more or less voluntary emergence of a second or -subliminal personality or consciousness of the medium; or, if we admit -the spiritualistic hypothesis, his occupation, his “psychic invasion,” as -Myers calls it, by forces from another world. In the “entranced” subject, -the normal consciousness and personality are entirely done away with; -and he replies “automatically,” sometimes by word of mouth, more often -in writing, to the questions put to him. It has happened that he speaks -and writes simultaneously, his voice being occupied by one spirit and -his hand by another, who thus carry on two independent conversations. -More rarely, the voice and the two hands are “possessed” at one and the -same time; and we receive three different communications. Obviously, -manifestations of this sort lend themselves, to frauds and impostures of -all kinds; and the distrust aroused is at first invincible. But there -are some that make their appearance encompassed with such guarantees of -good faith and sincerity, so often, so long and so rigorously checked by -scientific men of unimpeachable character and authority and of originally -inflexible scepticism, that it becomes difficult to maintain a suspicion -at the finish.[3] Unfortunately, I am not able to enter here into the -details of some of these purely scientific sittings, those for instance -of Mrs. Piper, the famous medium with whom F. W. H. Myers, Richard -Hodgson, Professor Newbold, of the University of Pennsylvania, Sir Oliver -Lodge and William James worked during a number of years. On the other -hand, it is precisely the accumulation and coincidences of these abnormal -details which gradually produce and confirm the conviction that we are in -the presence of an entirely new, improbable but genuine phenomenon, which -is sometimes difficult of classification among exclusively terrestrial -phenomena. I should have to devote to these “communications” a special -study which would exceed the limits of this essay; and I will therefore -content myself with referring those who care to know more of the subject -to Sir Oliver Lodge’s book, _The Survival of Man_; and, above all, to the -twenty-five bulky volumes of the _Proceedings_ of the S.P.R., notably to -the report and comments of William James on the Piper-Hodgson sittings -in Vol. XXIII. and to Vol. XIII., where Hodgson examines the facts and -arguments that may be adduced for or against the agency of the dead; and, -lastly, to Myers’ great work, _Human Personality and its Survival after -Bodily Death_. - - -2 - -The “entranced” mediums are invaded or possessed by different familiar -spirits to whom the new science gives the somewhat inappropriate and -ambiguous name of “controls.” Thus, Mrs. Piper is visited in succession -by Phinuit, George Pelham, or “G.P.,” Imperator, Doctor and Rector. Mrs. -Thompson, another very celebrated medium, has Nelly for her usual tenant, -while graver and more illustrious personages would take possession of -Stainton Moses, a clergyman. Each of these spirits retains a sharply -defined character, which is consistent throughout and which, moreover, -for the most part bears no relation to that of the medium. Amongst these, -Phinuit and Nelly are undoubtedly the most attractive, the most original, -the most living, the most active and, above all, the most talkative. -They centralize the communications after a fashion; they come and go -officiously; and, should any one of those present wish to be brought -into touch with the soul of a deceased relative or friend, they fly in -search of it, find it amid the invisible throng, usher it in, announce -its presence, speak in its name, transmit and, so to speak, translate -the questions and replies; for it seems that it is very difficult for the -dead to communicate with the living and that they need special aptitudes -and a concurrence of extraordinary circumstances. We will not yet examine -what they have to reveal to us; but to see them thus fluttering to and -fro amid the multitude of their discarnate brothers and sisters gives -us a first impression of the next world which is none too reassuring; -and we say to ourselves that the dead of to-day are strangely like those -whom Ulysses conjured up out of the Cimmerian darkness three thousand -years ago: pale and empty shades, bewildered, incoherent, puerile and -terror-stricken, like unto dreams, more numerous than the leaves that -fall in autumn and, like them, trembling in the unknown winds from the -vast plains of the other world. They no longer even have enough life to -be unhappy; and they seem to drag out, we know not where, a precarious -and idle existence, to wander aimlessly, to hover round us, slumbering, -or chattering among one another of the minor matters of this world; and, -when a gap is made in their darkness, to hasten from all sides, like -flocks of famished birds, hungering for light and the sound of a human -voice. And, in spite of ourselves, we think of the _Odyssey_ and the -sinister words of the shade of Achilles as it issued from Erebus: - -“Do not, O illustrious Ulysses, speak to me of death; I would wish, being -on earth, to serve for hire with another man of no estate, who had not -much livelihood, rather than rule over all the departed dead.” - - -3 - -What have these latterday dead to tell us? To begin with, it is a -remarkable thing that they appear to be much more interested in events -here below than in those of the world wherein they move. They seem, above -all, jealous to establish their identity, to prove that they still exist, -that they recognize us, that they know everything; and, to convince us -of this, they enter into the most minute and forgotten details with -extraordinary precision, perspicacity and prolixity. They are also -extremely clever at unravelling the intricate family connections of the -person actually questioning them, of any of the sitters, or even of a -stranger entering the room. They recall this one’s little infirmities, -that one’s maladies, the eccentricities or personal tendencies of a -third. They have cognizance of events taking place at a distance: -they see, for instance, and describe to their hearers in London an -insignificant episode in Canada. In a word, they say and do almost all -the disconcerting and inexplicable things that are sometimes obtained -from a first-rate medium; perhaps they even go a little further; but -there comes from it all no breath, no glimmer of the hereafter, not even -the something vaguely promised and vaguely waited for. - -We shall be told that the mediums are visited only by inferior spirits, -incapable of tearing themselves from earthly cares and soaring towards -greater and loftier ideas. It is possible; and no doubt we are wrong to -believe that a spirit stripped of its body can suddenly be transformed -and reach, in a moment, the level of our imaginings; but could they not -at least inform us where they are, what they feel and what they do? - - -4 - -And now it seems that death itself has elected to answer these -objections. Frederic Myers, Richard Hodgson and William James, who so -often, for long and ardent hours, questioned Mrs. Piper and Mrs. Thompson -and obliged the departed to speak by their mouths, are now themselves -among the shades, on the other side of the curtain of darkness. They -at least knew exactly what to do in order to reach us, what to reveal -in order to allay the uneasy curiosity of men. Myers in particular, -the most ardent, the most convinced, the most impatient of the veil -that parted him from the eternal realities, formally promised those who -were continuing his work that he would make every imaginable effort out -yonder, in the unknown, to come to their aid in a decisive fashion. -He kept his word. A month after his death, when Sir Oliver Lodge was -questioning Mrs. Thompson in her trance, Nelly, the medium’s familiar -spirit, suddenly declared that she had seen Myers, that he was not yet -fully awake, but that he hoped to come, at nine o’clock in the evening, -and “communicate” with his old friend of the Psychical Society. - -The sitting was suspended and resumed at half past eight; and Myers’ -“communication” was at last obtained. He was recognized by the first -few words he spoke; it was really he; he had not changed, Faithful to -his idiosyncracy when on earth, he at once insisted on the necessity -for taking notes. But he seemed dazed. They spoke to him of the Society -for Psychical Research, the sole interest of his life. He had lost all -recollection of it. Then memory gradually revived; and there followed -a quantity of post-mortem gossip on the subject of the society’s next -president, the obituary article in the _Times_, the letters that should -be published and so on. He complained that people would not let him rest, -that there was not a place in England where they did not ask for him: - -“Call Myers! Bring Myers!” - -He ought to be given time to collect himself, to reflect. He also -complained of the difficulty of conveying his ideas through the -mediums: “they were translating like a schoolboy does his first lines -of Virgil.”[4] As for his present condition, “he groped his way as if -through passages, before he knew he was dead. He thought he had lost his -way in a strange town ... and, even when he saw people that he knew were -dead, he thought they were only visions.” - -This, together with more chatter of a no less trivial nature, is about -all that we obtained from Myers’ “control” or “impersonation,” of which -better things had been expected. The “communication” and many others -which, it appears, recall in a striking fashion Myers’ habits, character -and ways of thinking and speaking would possess some value if none of -those by whom or to whom they were made had been acquainted with him at -the time when he was still numbered among the living. As they stand, they -are most probably but reminiscences of a secondary personality of the -medium or unconscious suggestions of the questioner or the sitters. - - -5 - -A more important communication and a more perplexing, because of the -names connected with it, is that which is known as “Mrs. Piper’s -Hodgson-Control.” Professor William James devotes an account of over -a hundred and twenty pages to it in Vol. XXIII. of the _Proceedings_. -Dr. Hodgson, in his lifetime, was secretary of the American branch of -the S.P.R., of which William James was vice-president. For many years, -he devoted himself to Mrs. Piper the medium, working with her twice a -week and thus accumulating an enormous mass of documents on the subject -of posthumous manifestations, a mass whose wealth has not yet been -exhausted. Like Myers, he had promised to come back after his death; -and, in his jovial way, he had more than once declared to Mrs. Piper -that, when he came to visit her in his turn, as he had more experience -than the other spirits, the sittings would take a more decisive shape -and that “he would make it hot for them.” He did come back, a week after -his death, and manifested himself by automatic writing (which, with Mrs. -Piper as medium, was the most usual method of communication) during -several sittings at which William James was present. I should like to -give an idea of these manifestations. But, as the celebrated Harvard -professor very truly observes, the shorthand report of a sitting of this -kind at once alters its aspect from start to finish. We seek in vain -for the emotion experienced on thus finding yourself in the presence of -an invisible but living being, who not only answers your questions, but -anticipates your thoughts, understands before you have finished speaking, -grasps an allusion and caps it with another allusion, grave or smiling. -The life of the dead man, which, during a strange hour, had, so to speak, -surrounded and penetrated you, seems to be extinguished for the second -time. Stenography, which is devoid of all emotion, no doubt supplies the -best elements for arriving at a logical conclusion; but it is not certain -that here, as in many other cases where the unknown predominates, logic -is the only road that leads to the truth. - -“When I first undertook,” says William James, “to collate this series of -sittings and make the present report, I supposed that my verdict would be -determined by pure logic. Certain minute incidents, I thought, ought to -make for spirit-return or against it in a ‘crucial’ way. But watching my -mind work as it goes over the data, convinces me that exact logic plays -only a preparatory part in shaping our conclusions here; and that the -decisive vote, if there be one, has to be cast by what I may call one’s -general sense of dramatic probability, which sense ebbs and flows from -one hypothesis to another—it does so in the present writer at least—in -a rather illogical manner. If one sticks to the detail, one may draw an -anti-spiritist conclusion; if one thinks more of what the whole mass may -signify, one may well incline to spiritist interpretations.”[5] - -And, at the end of his article, he sums up in the following words: - -“_I myself feel as if an external will to communicate were probably -there_, that is, I find myself doubting, in consequence of my whole -acquaintance with that sphere of phenomena, that Mrs. Piper’s dream-life, -even equipped with ‘telepathic’ powers, accounts for all the results -found. But if asked whether the will to communicate be Hodgson’s, or be -some mere spirit-counterfeit of Hodgson, I remain uncertain and await -more facts, facts which may not point clearly to a conclusion for fifty -or a hundred years.”[6] - -As we see, William James is inclined to waver; and at certain points in -his account he appears to waver still more and indeed to say deliberately -that the spirits “have a finger in the pie.” These hesitations on the -part of a man who has revolutionized our psychological ideas and who -possessed a brain as wonderfully organized and well-balanced as that -of our own Taine, for instance, are very significant. As a doctor -of medicine and a professor of philosophy, sceptical by nature and -scrupulously faithful to experimental methods, he was thrice qualified to -conduct investigations of this kind to a successful conclusion. It is not -a question of allowing ourselves, in our turn, to be unduly influenced -by those hesitations; but, in any case, they show that the problem is -a serious one, the gravest, perhaps, if the facts were beyond dispute, -which we have had to solve since the coming of Christ; and that we must -not expect to dismiss it with a shrug or a laugh. - - -6 - -I am obliged, for lack of space, to refer those who wish to form an -opinion of their own on the “Piper-Hodgson” case to the text of the -_Proceedings_. The case, at the same time, is far from being one of -the most striking; it should rather be classed, were it not for the -importance of the sitters concerned, among the minor successes of -the Piper series. Hodgson, according to the invariable custom of the -spirits, is, first of all, bent on making himself recognized; and the -inevitable, tedious string of trifling reminiscences begins twenty -times over again and fills page after page. As usual in such instances, -the recollections common to both the questioner and the spirit who is -supposed to be replying are brought out in their most circumstantial, -their most insignificant and also their most private details with -astonishing eagerness, precision and vivacity. And observe that, for all -these details, which he discloses with such extraordinary facility, the -dead man answering seeks by preference, one would say, the most hidden -and forgotten treasures of the living listener’s memory. He spares -him nothing; he harps on everything with childish satisfaction and -apprehensive solicitude, not so much to persuade others as to prove to -himself that he still exists. And the obstinacy of this poor invisible -being, in striving to manifest himself through the hitherto uncrannied -doors that separate us from our eternal destinies, is at once ridiculous -and tragic: - -“Do you remember, William, when we were in the country at So-and-so’s, -that game we played with the children; do you remember my saying -such-and-such a thing when I was in that room where there was -such-and-such a chair or table?” - -“Why, yes, Hodgson, I do remember now.” - -“A good test, that?” - -“First-rate, Hodgson!” - -And so on, indefinitely. Sometimes, there is a more significant incident -that seems to surpass the mere transmission of subliminal thought. They -are talking, for instance, of a frustrated marriage which was always -surrounded with great mystery, even to Hodgson’s most intimate friends: - -“Do you remember a lady-doctor in New York, a member of our society?” - -“No, but what about her?” - -“Her husband’s name was Blair ... I think.” - -“Do you mean Dr. Blair Thaw?” - -“Oh, yes. Ask Mrs. Thaw if I did not at a dinner-party mention something -about the lady. I may have done so.” - -James writes to Mrs. Thaw, who declares that, as a matter of fact, -fifteen years before, Hodgson had said to her that he had just proposed -to a girl and been refused. Mrs. Thaw and Dr. Newbold were the only -people in the world who knew the particulars. - -But to come to the further sittings. Among other points discussed is -the financial position of the American branch of the S.P.R., a position -which, at the death of the secretary, or rather factotum, Hodgson, was -anything but brilliant. And behold the somewhat strange spectacle of -different members of the society debating its affairs with their defunct -secretary. Shall they dissolve? Shall they amalgamate? Shall they send -the materials collected, most of which are Hodgson’s, to England? They -consult the dead man; he replies, gives good advice, seems fully aware -of all the complications, all the difficulties. One day, in Hodgson’s -lifetime, when the society was found to be short of funds, an anonymous -donor had sent the sum necessary to relieve it from embarrassment. -Hodgson alive did not know who the donor was; Hodgson dead picks him out -among those present, addresses him by name and thanks him publicly. On -another occasion, Hodgson, like all the spirits, complains of the extreme -difficulty which he finds in conveying his thought through the alien -organism of the medium: - -“I find now difficulties such as a blind man would experience in trying -to find his hat,” he says. - -But, when, after so much idle chatter, William James at last puts the -essential questions that burn our lips—“Hodgson, what have you to tell us -about the other life?”—the dead man becomes shifty and does nothing but -seek evasions: - -“It is not a vague fantasy but a reality,” he replies. - -“But,” Mrs. William James insists, “do you live as we do, as men do?” - -“What does she say?” asks the spirit, pretending not to understand. - -“Do you live as men do?” repeats William James. - -“Do you wear clothing and live in houses?” adds his wife. - -“Oh yes, houses, but not clothing. No, that is absurd. Just wait a -moment, I am going to get out.” - -“You will come back again?” - -“Yes.” - -“He has got to go out and get his breath,” remarks another spirit, named -Rector, suddenly intervening. - -It has not been waste of time, perhaps, to reproduce the general features -of one of these sittings which may be regarded as typical. I will add, -in order to give an idea of the farthest point which it is possible to -attain, the following instance of an experiment made by Sir Oliver Lodge -and related by him. He handed Mrs. Piper, in her “trance,” a gold watch -which had just been sent him by one of his uncles and which belonged -to that uncle’s twin brother, who had died twenty years before. When -the watch was in her possession, Mrs. Piper, or rather Phinuit, one -of her familiar spirits, began to relate a host of details concerning -the childhood of this twin brother, facts dating back for more than -sixty-six years and of course unknown to Sir Oliver Lodge. Soon after, -the surviving uncle, who lived in another town, wrote and confirmed the -accuracy of most of these details, which he had quite forgotten and of -which he was only now reminded by the medium’s revelations; while those -which he could not recollect at all were subsequently declared to be in -accordance with fact by a third uncle, an old sea-captain, who lived in -Cornwall and who had not the least notion why such strange questions were -put to him. - -I quote this instance not because it has any exceptional or decisive -value, but simply, I repeat, by way of an example; for, like the case -connected with Mrs. Thaw, mentioned above, it marks pretty accurately the -extreme points to which people have up to now, thanks to spirit agency, -penetrated the mysteries of the unknown. It is well to add that cases -in which the supposed limits of the most far-reaching telepathy are so -manifestly exceeded are fairly uncommon. - - -7 - -Now what are we to think of all this? Must we, with Myers, Newbold, -Hyslop, Hodgson and many others, who studied this problem at length, -conclude in favour of the incontestable agency of forces and -intelligences returning from the farther bank of the great river which -it was deemed that none might cross. Must we acknowledge with them that -there are cases ever more numerous which make it impossible for us to -hesitate any longer between the telepathic theory and the spiritualistic -theory? I do not think so. I have no prejudices—what were the use of -having any, in these mysteries?—no reluctance to admit the survival -and the intervention of the dead; but it is wise and necessary, before -leaving the terrestrial plane, to exhaust all the suppositions, all the -explanations there to be discovered. We have to make our choice between -two manifestations of the unknown, two miracles, if you prefer, whereof -one is situated in the world which we inhabit and the other in a region -which, rightly or wrongly, we believe to be separated from us by nameless -spaces which no human being, alive or dead, has crossed to this day. It -is natural, therefore, that we should stay in our own world, as long as -it gives us a foothold, as long as we are not pitilessly expelled from -it by a series of irresistible and irrefutable facts issuing from the -adjoining abyss. The survival of a spirit is no more improbable than the -prodigious faculties which we are obliged to attribute to the mediums -if we deny them to the dead; but the existence of the medium, contrary -to that of the spirit, is unquestionable; and therefore it is for the -spirit, or for those who make use of its name, first to prove that it -exists. - -Do the extraordinary phenomena of which we know—transmission of -thought from one subconscious mind to another, perception of events -at a distance, subliminal clairvoyance—occur when the dead are not in -evidence, when the experiments are being made exclusively between living -persons? This cannot be honestly contested. Certainly no one has ever -obtained among living people any series of communications or revelations -similar to those of the great spiritualistic mediums, Mrs. Piper, Mrs. -Thompson and Stainton Moses, nor anything that can compare with them -for continuity or lucidity. But, though the quality of the phenomena -will not bear comparison, it cannot be denied that their inner nature is -identical. Our logical inference is that the real cause lies not in the -source of inspiration, but in the personal value, the sensitiveness, the -power of the medium. For the rest, Mr. J. G. Piddington, who devoted an -exceedingly detailed study to Mrs. Thompson, plainly perceived in her, -when she was not “entranced” and when there were no spirits whatever in -question, manifestations inferior, it is true, but absolutely analogous -to those involving the dead.[7] These mediums are pleased, in all good -faith and probably unconsciously, to give to their subliminal faculties, -to their secondary personalities, or to accept, on their behalf, names -which were borne by beings who have crossed to the farther side of the -mystery: this is a matter of vocabulary or nomenclature which neither -lessens nor increases the intrinsic significance of the facts. Well, in -examining these facts, however strange and really unparalleled some of -them may be, I never find one which proceeds frankly from this world -or which comes indisputably from the other. They are, if you wish, -phenomenal border incidents; but it cannot be said that the border has -been violated. In the story of Sir Oliver Lodge’s watch, for instance, -which is one of the most characteristic and one which carries us farther -than most, we must attribute to the medium faculties that have ceased to -be human. She must have put herself in touch, whether by perception of -events at a distance, or by transmission of thought from one subconscious -mind to another, or again by subliminal clairvoyance, with the two -surviving brothers of the deceased owner of the watch; and, in the -past subconsciousness of those two brothers, distant from each other, -she had to rediscover a host of circumstances which they themselves had -forgotten and which lay hidden beneath the heaped-up dust and darkness of -six-and-sixty years. It is certain that a phenomenon of this kind passes -the bounds of the imagination and that we should refuse to credit it if, -first of all, the experiment had not been controlled and certified by a -man of the standing of Sir Oliver Lodge, and if, moreover, it did not -form one of a group of equally significant facts which clearly show that -we are not here concerned with an absolutely unique miracle or with an -unhoped-for and unprecedented concourse of coincidences. It is simply -a matter of distant perception, subliminal clairvoyance and telepathy -raised to the highest power; and these three manifestations of the -unexplored depths of man are to-day recognized and classified by science, -which is not saying that they are explained: that is another question. -When, in connection with electricity, we use such terms as positive, -negative, induction, potential and resistance, we are also applying -conventional words to facts and phenomena of whose inward essence we are -utterly ignorant; and we must needs be content with these, pending any -better. There is, I insist, between these extraordinary manifestations -and those given to us by a medium who is not speaking in the name of the -dead, but a difference of the greater and the lesser, a difference of -extent or degree and in no wise a difference in kind. - - -8 - -For the proof to be more decisive, it would be necessary that no one, -neither the medium nor the witnesses, should ever have known of the -existence of him whose past is revealed by the dead man, in other words, -that every living link should be eliminated. I do not believe that this -has actually occurred up to the present, nor even that it is possible; -in any case, it would be very difficult to control such an experiment. -Be this as it may, Dr. Hodgson, who devoted part of his life to the -quest of specific phenomena wherein the boundaries of mediumistic power -should be plainly overstepped, believes that he found them in certain -cases, of which—as the others were of very much the same nature—I will -merely mention one of the most striking.[8] In a course of excellent -sittings with Mrs. Piper the medium, he communicated with various dead -friends who reminded him of a large number of common memories. The -medium, the spirits and he himself seemed in a wonderfully accommodating -mood; and the revelations were plentiful, exact and easy. In this -extremely favourable atmosphere, he was placed in communication with the -soul of one of his best friends, who had died a year before and whom -he simply calls “A.” This A, whom he had known more intimately than -most of the spirits with whom he had communicated previously, behaved -quite differently and, while establishing his identity beyond dispute, -vouchsafed only incoherent replies. Now A “had been troubled much, for -years before his death, by headaches and occasionally mental exhaustion, -though not amounting to positive mental disturbance.” - -The same phenomenon appears to recur whenever similar troubles have come -before death, as in cases of suicide. - -“If the telepathic explanation is held to be the only one,” says Dr. -Hodgson (I give the gist of his observations), “if it is claimed that all -the communications of these discarnate minds are only suggestions from -my subconscious self, it is unintelligible that, after having obtained -satisfactory results from others whom I had known far less intimately -than A and with whom I had consequently far fewer recollections in -common, I should get from him, in the same sittings, nothing but -incoherencies. I am thus driven to believe that my subliminal self is -not the only thing in evidence, that it is in the presence of a real, -living personality, whose mental state is the same as it was at the -hour of death, a personality which remains independent of my subliminal -consciousness and absolutely unaffected by it, which is deaf to its -suggestions and draws from its own resources the revelations which it -makes.” - -The argument is not without value, but its full force would be obtained -only if it were certain that none of those present knew of A’s madness; -otherwise it can be contended that, the notion of madness having -penetrated the subconscious intelligence of one of them, it worked upon -it and gave to the replies induced a form in keeping with the state of -mind presupposed in the dead man. - - -9 - -Of a truth, by extending the possibilities of the medium to these -extremes, we furnish ourselves with explanations which forestall nearly -everything, bar every road and all but deny to the spirits any power -of manifesting themselves in the manner which they appear to have -chosen. But why do they choose that manner? Why do they thus restrict -themselves? Why do they jealously hug the narrow strip of territory which -memory occupies on the confines of both worlds and from which none but -indecisive or questionable evidence can reach us? Are there then no other -outlets, no other horizons? Why do they tarry around us, stagnant in -their little pasts, when, in their freedom from the flesh, they ought to -be able to wander at ease over the virgin stretches of space and time? -Do they not yet know that the sign which will prove to us that they -survive is to be found not with us, but with them, on the other side of -the grave? Why do they come back with empty hands and empty words? Is -that what one finds when one is steeped in infinity? Beyond our last hour -is it all bare and shapeless and dim? If it be so, let them tell us; -and the evidence of the darkness will at least possess a grandeur that -is all too absent from these cross-examining methods. Of what use is it -to die, if all life’s trivialities continue? Is it really worth while -to have passed through the terrifying gorges which open on the eternal -fields, in order to remember that we had a great-uncle called Peter and -that our Cousin Paul was afflicted with varicose veins and a gastric -complaint? At that rate, I should choose for those whom I love the august -and frozen solitudes of the everlasting nothing. Though it be difficult -for them, as they complain, to make themselves understood through a -strange and sleep-bound organism, they tell us enough categorical details -about the past to show that they could disclose similar details, if not -about the future, which they perhaps do not yet know, at least about -the lesser mysteries which surround us on every side and which our -body alone prevents us from approaching. There are a thousand things, -large or small, alike unknown to us, which we must perceive when feeble -eyes no longer arrest our vision. It is in those regions from which a -shadow separates us and not in foolish tittle-tattle of the past that -they would at last find the clear and genuine proof which they seem to -seek with such enthusiasm. Without demanding a great miracle, one would -nevertheless think that we had the right to expect from a mind which -nothing now enthrals some other discourse than that which it avoided when -it was still subject to matter. - - - - -IV - -OUR ULTIMATE CONSCIOUSNESS - - -1 - -Survival with our present consciousness is nearly as impossible and -incomprehensible as total annihilation. Moreover, even if it were -admissible, it could not be dreadful. This is certain that, when the body -disappears, all physical sufferings will disappear at the same time; -for we cannot imagine a spirit suffering in a body which it no longer -possesses. With them will vanish simultaneously all that we call mental -or moral sufferings, seeing that all of them, if we examine them well, -spring from the ties and habits of our senses. Our spirit feels the -reaction of the sufferings of our body or of the bodies that surround -it; it cannot suffer in itself or through itself. Slighted affection, -shattered love, disappointments, failures, despair, betrayal, personal -humiliations, as well as the sorrows and the loss of those whom it -loves, acquire their potent sting only by passing through the body which -it animates. Outside its own pain, which is the pain of not knowing, -the spirit, once delivered from its flesh, could suffer only in the -recollection of the flesh. It is possible that it still grieves over the -troubles of those whom it has left behind on earth. But to its eyes, -since it no longer reckons the days, these troubles will seem so brief -that it will not grasp their duration; and, knowing what they are and -knowing whither they lead, it will not behold their severity. - -The spirit is insensible to all that is not happiness. It is made only -for infinite joy, which is the joy of knowing and understanding. It can -grieve only at perceiving its own limits; but to perceive those limits, -when there are no more bonds to space and time, is already to transcend -them. - - -2 - -It becomes a question of knowing whether that spirit, sheltered from all -sorrow, will remain itself, will perceive and recognize itself in the -bosom of infinity and up to what point it is important that it should -recognize itself. This brings us to the problems of survival without -consciousness, or survival with a consciousness different from that of -to-day. - -Survival without consciousness seems at first sight the more probable. -From the point of view of the good or ill awaiting us on the other side -of the grave, it amounts to annihilation. It is lawful, therefore, for -those who prefer the easiest solution and that most consistent with the -present state of human thought to limit their anxiety to that. They have -nothing to dread; for, on close inspection, every fear, if any remained, -should deck itself with hopes. The body disintegrates and can no longer -suffer; the mind, separated from the source of pleasure and pain, is -extinguished, scattered and lost in a boundless darkness; and what comes -is the great peace so often prayed for, the sleep without measure, -without dreams and without awakening. - -But this is only a solution that fosters indolence. If we press those who -speak of survival without consciousness, we perceive that they mean only -their present consciousness, for man conceives no other; and we have just -seen that it is almost impossible for that manner of consciousness to -persist in infinity. - -Unless, indeed, they would deny every sort of consciousness, even that -cosmic consciousness into which their own will fall. But this were to -solve very quickly and very blindly, with a stroke of the sword in the -night, the greatest and most mysterious question that can arise in a -man’s brain. - - -3 - -It is evident that, in the depths of our thought limited on every -side, we shall never be able to form the least idea of an infinite -consciousness. There is even an essential antinomy between the words -consciousness and infinity. To speak of consciousness is to mean the -most definite thing conceivable in the finite; consciousness, properly -speaking, is the finite self-concentrated in order to discover and feel -its closest limits, to the end that it may enjoy them as closely as -possible. On the other hand, it is impossible for us to separate the idea -of intelligence from the idea of consciousness. Any intelligence that -does not seem capable of transforming itself into consciousness becomes -for us a mysterious phenomenon to which we give names more mysterious -still, lest we should have to admit that we understand nothing of it at -all. Now, on this little earth of ours, which is but a dot in space, we -see expended in every scale of life, as for instance, in the wonderful -combinations and organisms of the insect world, a mass of intelligence -so vast that our human intelligence cannot even dream of assessing it. -Everything that exists—and man first of all—is incessantly drawing upon -that inexhaustible reserve. We are therefore irresistibly driven to -ask ourselves if that cosmic intelligence is not the emanation of an -infinite consciousness, or if it must not, sooner or later, elaborate -one. And this sets us tossing between two irreducible impossibilities. -What is most probable is that here again we are judging everything from -the lowlands of our anthropomorphism. At the summit of our infinitesimal -life, we see only intelligence and consciousness, the extreme point of -thought; and from this we infer that, at the summits of all lives, there -could be naught but intelligence and consciousness, whereas these perhaps -occupy only an inferior place in the hierarchy of spiritual or other -possibilities. - - -4 - -Survival absolutely denuded of consciousness would, therefore, be -possible only if we deny the existence of a cosmic consciousness. -When once we admit this consciousness, under whatsoever form, we are -bound to share in it; and, up to a certain point, the question is -indistinguishable from that of the continuance of a more or less modified -consciousness. There is, for the moment, no hope of solving it; but we -are free to grope in its darkness, which is not perhaps equally dense at -all points. - -Here begins the open sea. Here begins the splendid adventure, the only -one abreast with human curiosity, the only one that soars as high as its -highest longing. Let us accustom ourselves to regard death as a form of -life which we do not yet understand; let us learn to look upon it with -the same eye that looks upon birth; and soon our mind will be accompanied -to the steps of the tomb with the same glad expectation that greets a -birth. - -Suppose that a child in its mother’s womb were endowed with a certain -consciousness; that unborn twins, for instance, could, in some obscure -fashion, exchange their impressions and communicate their hopes and -fears to each other. Having known naught but the warm maternal shades, -they would not feel straitened nor unhappy there. They would probably -have no other idea than to prolong as long as possible that life of -abundance free from cares and of sleep free from alarms. But, if, even -as we are aware that we must die, they too knew that they must be born, -that is to say, that they must suddenly leave the shelter of that gentle -darkness and abandon for ever that captive but peaceful existence, to be -precipitated into an absolutely different, unimaginable and boundless -world, how great would be their anxieties and their fears! And yet there -is no reason why our own anxieties and fears should be more justified -or less ridiculous. The character, the spirit, the intentions, the -benevolence or the indifference of the unknown to which we are subject do -not alter between our birth and our death. We remain always in the same -infinity, in the same universe. It is perfectly reasonable and legitimate -to persuade ourselves that the tomb is no more dreadful than the cradle. -It would even be legitimate and reasonable to accept the cradle only on -account of the tomb. If, before being born, we were permitted to choose -between the great peace of non-existence and a life that should not be -completed by the glorious hour of death, which of us, knowing what he -ought to know, would accept the disquieting problem of an existence -that would not lead to the reassuring mystery of its end? Which of us -would wish to come into a world where we can learn so little, if he did -not know that he must enter it if he would leave it and learn more? -The best thing about life is that it prepares this hour for us, that -it is the one and only road leading to the magic gateway and into that -incomparable mystery where misfortunes and sufferings will no longer be -possible, because we shall have lost the body that produced them; where -the worst that can befall us is the dreamless sleep which we number among -the greatest boons on earth; where, lastly, it is almost unimaginable -that a thought should not survive to mingle with the substance of the -universe, that is to say, with infinity, which, if it be not a waste of -indifference can be nothing but a sea of joy. - - -5 - -Before fathoming that sea, let us remark to those who aspire to maintain -their ego that they are calling for the sufferings which they dread. -The ego implies limits. The ego cannot subsist except in so far as it -is separated from that which surrounds it. The stronger the ego, the -narrower its limits and the clearer the separation. The more painful too; -for the mind, if it remain as we know it—and we are not able to imagine -it different—will no sooner have seen its limits than it will wish to -overstep them; and, the more separated it feels, the greater will be its -longing to unite with that which lies outside. There will therefore be -an eternal struggle between its being and its aspirations. And really it -would have served no object to be born and die only to arrive at these -interminable contests. Have we not here yet one more proof that our ego, -as we conceive it, could never subsist in the infinity where it must -needs go, since it cannot go elsewhere? It behoves us therefore to clear -away conceptions that emanate only from our body, even as the mists that -veil the daylight from our sight emanate only from the lowlands. Pascal -has said, once and for all: - -“The narrow limits of our being conceal infinity from our view.” - - -6 - -On the other hand—for we must keep nothing back, nor turn from the -adverse darkness should it seem nearest to the truth, nor show any -bias—on the other hand, we can grant to those who yearn to remain as they -are that the survival of an atom of themselves would suffice for a new -entrance into an infinity from which their body no longer separates them. - -If it seems impossible that anything—a movement, a vibration, a -radiation—should stop or disappear, why then should thought be lost? -There will, no doubt, subsist more than one idea powerful enough to -allure the new ego, which will nourish itself and thrive on all that -it will find in that boundless environment, just as the other ego, on -this earth, nourished itself and throve on all that it met there. Since -we have been able to acquire our present consciousness, why should it -be impossible for us to acquire another? For that ego which is so dear -to us and which we believe ourselves to possess was not made in a day; -it is not at present what it was at the hour of our birth. Much more -chance than purpose has entered into it; and much more alien substance -than any inborn substance which it contained. It is but a long series -of acquisitions and transformations, of which we do not become aware -until the awakening of our memory; and its kernel, of which we do not -know the nature, is perhaps more immaterial and less concrete than a -thought. If the new environment which we enter on leaving our mother’s -womb transforms us to such a point that there is, so to speak, no -connection between the embryo that we were and the man that we have -become, is it not right to think that the far newer, stranger, wider and -richer environment which we enter on quitting life will transform us even -more? We can see in what happens to us here a figure of what awaits us -elsewhere and can readily admit that our spiritual being, liberated from -its body, if it does not mingle at the first onset with the infinite, -will develop itself there gradually, will choose itself a substance and, -no longer trammelled by space and time, will go on for ever growing. -It is very possible that our loftiest wishes of to-day will become -the law of our future development. It is very possible that our best -thoughts will welcome us on the farther shore and that the quality of our -intellect will determine that of the infinite which crystallizes around -it. Every hypothesis is permissible and every question, provided it be -addressed to happiness; for unhappiness is no longer able to answer us. -It finds no place in the human imagination that methodically explores -the future. And, whatever be the force that survives us and presides -over our existence in the other world, this existence, to presume the -worst, could be no less great, no less happy than that of to-day. It -will have no other career than infinity; and infinity is nothing if it -be not felicity. In any case, it seems fairly certain that we spend in -this world the only narrow, grudging, obscure and sorrowful moment of our -destiny. - - -7 - -We have said that the peculiar sorrow of the mind is the sorrow of -not knowing or not understanding, which includes the sorrow of being -powerless; for he who knows the supreme causes, being no longer paralysed -by matter, becomes one with them and acts with them; and he who -understands ends by approving, or else the universe would be a mistake, -which is not possible, an infinite mistake being inconceivable. I do not -believe that another sorrow of the sheer mind can be imagined. The only -one sorrow which, at first thought, might seem admissible—and which, in -any case, could be but ephemeral—would arise from the sight of the pain -and misery remaining on the earth which we have left. But this sorrow, -after all, would be but one aspect and an insignificant phase of the -sorrow of being powerless and of not understanding. As for the latter, -though it is not only beyond the domain of our intelligence, but even at -an insuperable distance from our imagination, we may say that it would -be intolerable only if it were without hope. But, for that, the universe -would have to abandon any attempt to understand itself, or else admit -within itself an object that remained for ever foreign to it. Either the -mind will not perceive its limits and, consequently, will not suffer from -them, or else it will overstep them as it perceives them; for how could -the universe have parts eternally condemned to form no part of itself -and of its knowledge? Hence we cannot understand that the torture of not -understanding, supposing it to exist for a moment, should not end by -absorption in the state of infinity, which, if it be not happiness as we -comprehend it, could be naught but an indifference higher and purer than -joy. - - - - -V - -THE TWO ASPECTS OF INFINITY - - -1 - -Let us turn our thoughts towards it. The problem goes beyond humanity and -embraces all things. It is possible, I think, to view infinity under two -distinct aspects. Let us contemplate the first of them. We are plunged in -a universe that has no limits in space or time. It can neither go forward -nor go back. It has no origin. It never began, nor will it ever end. The -myriads of years behind it are even as the myriads which it has yet to -unroll. From all time it has been at the boundless centre of the days. -It could have no aim, for, if it had one, it would have attained it in -the infinity of the years that lie behind us; besides, that aim would -lie outside itself and, if anything lay outside it, infinity would be -bounded by that thing and would cease to be infinity. It is not making -for anywhere, for it would have arrived there; consequently, all that the -worlds within its pale, all that we ourselves do can have no influence -upon it. All that it will do it has done. All that it has not done -remains undone because it can never do it. If it have no mind, it will -never have one. If it have one, that mind has been at its climax from all -time and will remain there, changeless and immovable. It is as young as -it has ever been and as old as it will ever be. It has made in the past -all the efforts and all the trials which it will make in the future; and, -as all the possible combinations have been exhausted since what we cannot -even call the beginning, it does not seem as if that which has not taken -place in the eternity that stretches before our birth can happen in the -eternity that will follow our death. If it have not become conscious, -it will never become conscious; if it know not what it wishes, it will -continue in ignorance, hopelessly, knowing all or knowing nothing and -remaining as near its end as its beginning. - -This is the gloomiest thought to which man can attain. So far, I do not -think that its depths have been sufficiently sounded. If it were really -irrefutable—and some may contend that it is—if it actually contained the -last word of the great riddle, it would be almost impossible to live in -its shadow. Naught save the certainty that our conceptions of time and -space are illusive and absurd can lighten the abyss wherein our last hope -would perish. - - -2 - -The universe thus conceived would be, if not intelligible, at least -admissible by our reason; but in that universe float billions of -worlds limited by space and time. They are born, they die and they are -born again. They form part of the whole; and we see, therefore, that -parts of that which has neither beginning nor end themselves begin and -end. We, in fact, know only those parts; and they are of a number so -infinite that in our eyes they fill all infinity. That which is going -nowhere teems with that which appears to be going somewhere. That -which has always known what it wants, or will never learn, seems to be -eternally experimenting with more or less ill-success. At what goal is -it aiming, since it is already there? Everything that we discover in -that which could not possibly have an object looks as though it were -pursuing one with inconceivable ardour; and the mind that animates what -we see, in that which should know everything and possess itself, seems -to know nothing and to seek itself without intermission. Thus all that -is apparent to our senses in infinity gainsays that which our reason -is compelled to ascribe to it. According as we fathom it, we come to -understand how deep is our want of understanding; and, the more we strive -to penetrate the two incomprehensible problems that stand face to face, -the more they contradict each other. - - -3 - -What will become of us amid all this confusion? Shall we leave the finite -wherein we dwell to be swallowed up in this or the other infinite? In -other words, shall we end by absorption in the infinite which our reason -conceives, or shall we remain eternally in that which our eyes behold, -that is to say, in numberless changing and ephemeral worlds? Shall we -never leave those worlds which seem doomed to die and to be reborn -eternally, to enter at last into that which, from all eternity, can -neither have been born nor have died and which exists without either -future or past? Shall we one day escape, with all that surrounds us, from -this unhappy speculation, to find our way at last into peace, wisdom, -changeless and boundless consciousness, or into hopeless unconsciousness? -Shall we have the fate which our senses foretell, or that which our -intelligence demands? Or are both senses and intelligence only illusions, -puny implements, vain weapons of an hour, which were never intended to -examine or defy the universe? If there really be a contradiction, is it -wise to accept it and to deem impossible that which we do not understand, -seeing that we understand almost nothing? Is truth not at an immeasurable -distance from these inconsistencies which appear to us enormous and -irreducible and which, doubtless, are of no more importance than the rain -that falls upon the sea? - - -4 - -But, even to our poor understanding of to-day, the discrepancy between -the infinity conceived by our reason and that perceived by our senses -is perhaps more apparent than real. When we say that, in a universe -that has existed since all eternity, every experiment, every possible -combination has been made; when we declare that there is no chance -that what has not taken place in the immeasurable past can take place -in the immeasurable future, our imagination perhaps attributes to the -infinity of time a preponderance which it cannot possess. In truth, -all that infinity contains must be as infinite as the time at its -disposal; and the chances, encounters and combinations that lie therein -have not been exhausted in the eternity that has gone before us any -more than they could be in the eternity that will come after us. The -infinity of time is no vaster than the infinity of the substance of the -universe. Events, forces, chances, causes, effects, phenomena, fusions, -combinations, coincidences, harmonies, unions, possibilities, lives are -represented in it by countless numbers that entirely fill a bottomless -and vergeless abyss where they have been shaken together from what we -call the beginning of the world that had no beginning and where they -will be stirred up until the end of a world that will have no end. -There is, therefore, no climax, no changelessness, no immovability. It -is probable that the universe is seeking and finding itself every day, -that it has not become entirely conscious and does not yet know what it -wants. It is possible that its ideal is still veiled by the shadow of its -immensity; it is also possible that experiments and chances are following -one upon the other in unimaginable worlds, compared wherewith all those -which we see on starry nights are no more than a pinch of gold-dust in -the ocean depths. Lastly, if either be true, it is also true that we -ourselves, or what remains of us—it matters not—will profit one day by -those experiments and those chances. That which has not yet happened may -suddenly supervene; and the next state, with the supreme wisdom which -will recognize and be able to establish that state, is perhaps ready to -arise from the clash of circumstances. It would not be at all astonishing -if the consciousness of the universe, in the endeavour to form itself, -had not yet encountered the combination of necessary chances and if human -thought were actually supporting one of those decisive chances. Here -there is a hope. Small as man and his brain may appear, they have exactly -the value of the most enormous forces that they are able to conceive, -since there is neither great nor small in the immensurable; and, if our -body equalled the dimensions of all the worlds which our eyes can see, it -would have exactly the same weight and the same importance, as compared -with the universe, that it has to-day. The mind alone perhaps occupies in -infinity a space which comparisons do not reduce to nothing. - - -5 - -For the rest, if everything must be said, at the cost of constantly -and shamelessly contradicting one’s self in the dark, and to return to -the first supposition, the idea of possible progress, it is extremely -probable that this again is one of those childish disorders of our brain -which prevent us from seeing the thing that is. It is quite as probable, -as we have seen above, that there never was, that there never will be any -progress, because there could not be a goal. At most there may occur a -few ephemeral combinations which, to our poor eyes, will seem happier or -more beautiful than the others. Even so we think gold more beautiful than -the mud in the street, or the flower in a splendid garden happier than -the stone at the bottom of a drain; but all this, obviously, is of no -importance, has no corresponding reality and proves nothing in particular. - -The more we reflect upon it, the more pronounced is the infirmity of our -intelligence which cannot succeed in reconciling the idea of progress and -even the idea of experiment with the supreme idea of infinity. Although -nature has been incessantly and indefatigably repeating herself before -our eyes for thousands of years, reproducing the same trees and the same -animals, we cannot contrive to understand why the universe indefinitely -recommences experiments that have been made billions of times. It is -inevitable that, in the innumerable combinations that have been and are -being made in termless time and boundless space, there have been and -still are millions of planets and consequently millions of human races -exactly similar to our own, side by side with myriads of others more -or less different from it. Let us not say to ourselves that it would -require an unimaginable concourse of circumstances to reproduce a globe -like unto our earth in every respect. We must remember that we are in -the infinite and that this unimaginable concourse must necessarily take -place in the innumerousness which we are unable to imagine. Though -it need billions and billions of cases for two features to coincide, -those billions and billions will encumber infinity no more than would a -single case. Place an infinite number of worlds in an infinite number -of infinitely diverse circumstances: there will always be an infinite -number for which those circumstances will be alike; if not, we should be -setting bounds to our idea of the universe, which would forthwith become -more incomprehensible still. From the moment that we insist sufficiently -upon that thought, we necessarily arrive at these conclusions. If they -have not struck us hitherto, it is because we never go to the farthest -point of our imagination. Now the farthest point of our imagination is -but the beginning of reality and gives us only a small, purely human -universe, which, vast as it may seem, dances in the real universe like an -apple on the sea. I repeat, if we do not admit that thousands of worlds, -similar in all points to our own, in spite of the billions of adverse -chances, have always existed and still exist to-day, we are sapping -the foundations of the only possible conception of the universe or of -infinity. - - -6 - -Now how is it that those millions of exactly similar human races, which -from all time suffer what we have suffered and are still suffering, -profit us nothing, that all their experiences and all their schools have -had no influence upon our first efforts and that everything has to be -done again and begun again incessantly? - -As we see, the two theories balance each other. It is well to acquire -by degrees the habit of understanding nothing. There remains to us the -faculty of choosing the less gloomy of the two or persuading ourselves -that the mists of the other exist only in our brain. As that strange -visionary, William Blake, said: - - “Nor is it possible to thought - A greater than itself to know.” - -Let us add that it is not possible for it to know anything other than -itself. What we do not know would be enough to create the world afresh; -and what we do know cannot add one moment to the life of a fly. Who can -tell but that our chief mistake lies in believing that an intelligence, -were it an intelligence thousands of times as great as ours, directs the -universe? It may be a force of quite another nature, a force that differs -as widely from that on which our brain prides itself as electricity, for -instance, differs from the wind that blows. That is why it is fairly -probable that our mind, however powerful it become, will always grope in -mystery. If it be certain that everything in us must also be in nature, -because everything comes to us from her, if the mind and all the logic -which it has placed at the culminating point of our being direct or -seem to direct all the actions of our life, it by no means follows that -there is not in the universe a force greatly superior to thought, a -force having no imaginable relation to the mind, a force which animates -and governs all things according to other laws and of which nothing is -found in us but almost imperceptible traces, even as almost imperceptible -traces of thought are all that can be found in plants and minerals. - -In any case, there is nothing here to make us lose courage. It is -necessarily the human illusion of evil, ugliness, uselessness and -impossibility that is to blame. We must wait not for the universe to be -transformed, but for our intelligence to expand or to take part in the -other force; and we must maintain our confidence in a world which knows -nothing of our conceptions of purpose and progress, because it doubtless -has ideas whereof we have no idea, a world, moreover, which could -scarcely wish itself harm. - - -7 - -“These are but vain speculations,” it will be said. “What matters, -after all, the idea which we form of those things which belong to the -unknowable, seeing that the unknowable, were we a thousand times as -intelligent as we are, is closed to us for ever and that the idea which -we form of it will never have any value?” - -That is true; but there are degrees in our ignorance of the unknowable; -and each of these degrees marks a triumph of the intelligence. To -estimate more and more completely the extent of what it does not know is -all that man’s knowledge can hope for. Our idea of the unknowable was and -always will be valueless, I admit; but it nevertheless is and will remain -the most important idea of mankind. All our morality, all that is in the -highest degree noble and profound in our existence has always been based -on this idea devoid of real value. To-day, as yesterday, even though -it be possible to recognize more clearly that it is too incomplete and -relative ever to have any actual value, it is necessary to carry it as -high and as far as we can. It alone creates the only atmosphere wherein -the best part of ourselves can live. Yes, it is the unknowable into which -we shall not enter; but that is no reason for saying to ourselves: - -“I am closing all the doors and all the windows; henceforth, I shall -interest myself only in things which my everyday intelligence can -compass. Those things alone have the right to influence my actions and my -thoughts.” - -Where should we arrive at that rate? What things can my intelligence -compass? Is there a thing in this world that can be separated from the -inconceivable? Since there is no means of eliminating that inconceivable, -it is reasonable and salutary to make the best of it and therefore to -imagine it as stupendously vast as we are able. The gravest reproach -that can be brought against the positive religions and notably against -Christianity is that they have too often, if not in theory, at least in -practice, encouraged such a narrowing of the mystery of the universe. By -broadening it, we broaden the space wherein our mind will move. It is for -us what we make it: let us then form it of all that we can reach on the -horizon of ourselves. As for the mystery itself, we shall, of-course, -never reach it; but we have a much greater chance of approaching it by -facing it and going whither it draws us than by turning our backs upon it -and returning to that place where we well know that it no longer is. Not -by diminishing our thoughts shall we diminish the distance that separates -us from the ultimate truths; but by enlarging them as much as possible we -are sure of deceiving ourselves as little as possible. And the loftier -our idea of the infinite, the more buoyant and the purer becomes the -spiritual atmosphere wherein we live and the wider and deeper the horizon -against which our thoughts and feelings stand out, the horizon which is -all their life and which they inspire. - -“Perpetually to construct ideas requiring the utmost stretch of our -faculties,” wrote Herbert Spencer, “and perpetually to find that such -ideas must be abandoned as futile imaginations, may realize to us more -fully than any other course the greatness of that which we vainly strive -to grasp.... By continually seeking to know and being continually thrown -back with a deepened conviction of the impossibility of knowing, we may -keep alive the consciousness that it is alike our highest wisdom and -our highest duty to regard that through which all things exist as the -Unknowable.” - - -8 - -Whatever the ultimate truth may be, whether we admit the abstract, -absolute and perfect infinity—the changeless, immovable infinity which -has attained perfection and which knows everything, to which our reason -tends—or whether we prefer that offered to us by the evidence, undeniable -here below, of our senses—the infinity which seeks itself, which is still -evolving and not yet established—it behoves us above all to foresee in it -our fate, which, for that matter, must, in either case, end by absorption -in that very infinity. - - - - -VI - -OUR FATE IN THOSE INFINITIES - - -1 - -The first infinity, the ideal infinity, corresponds most nearly with -the requirements of our reason, which does not justify us in giving -it the preference. It is impossible for us to foresee what we shall -become in it, because it seems to exclude any becoming. It therefore but -remains for us to address ourselves to the second, to that which we see -and imagine in time and space. Furthermore, it is possible that it may -precede the other. However absolute our conception of the universe, we -have seen that we can always admit that what has not taken place in the -eternity before us will happen in the eternity after us and that there -is nothing save an untold number of chances to prevent the universe from -acquiring in the end that perfect consciousness which will establish it -at its zenith. - - -2 - -Behold us, then, in the infinity of those worlds, the stellar infinity, -the infinity of the heavens, which assuredly veils other things from our -eyes, but which cannot be a total illusion. It seems to us to be peopled -only with objects—planets, suns, stars, nebulæ, atoms, imponderous -fluids—which move, unite and separate, repel and attract one another, -which shrink and expand, are for ever shifting and never arrive, which -measure space in that which has no confines and number the hours in that -which has no term. In a word, we are in an infinity that seems to have -almost the same character and the same habits as that power in the midst -of which we breathe and which, upon our earth, we call nature or life. - -What will be our fate in that infinity? We are asking ourselves no idle -question, even if we should unite with it after losing all consciousness, -all notion of the ego, even if we should exist there as no more than a -little nameless substance—soul or matter, we cannot tell—suspended in the -equally nameless abyss that replaces time and space. It is not an idle -question, for it concerns the history of the worlds or of the universe; -and this history, far more than that of our petty existence, is our own -great history, in which perhaps something of ourselves or something -incomparably better and vaster will end by meeting us again some day. - - -3 - -Shall we be unhappy there? It is hardly reassuring when we consider the -ways of nature and remember that we form part of a universe that has -not yet gathered its wisdom. We have seen, it is true, that good and -bad fortune exist only in so far as regards our body and that, when we -have lost the organ of suffering, we shall not meet any of the earthly -sorrows again. But our anxiety does not end here; and will not our mind, -lingering upon our erstwhile sorrows, drifting derelict from world to -world, unknown to itself in an unknowable that seeks itself hopelessly, -will not our mind know here the frightful torture of which we have -already spoken and which is doubtless the last that imagination can touch -with its wing? Finally, if there were nothing left of our body and our -mind, there would still remain the matter and the spirit (or, at least, -the obviously single force to which we give that double name) which -composed them and whose fate must be no more indifferent to us than our -own fate; for, let us repeat, from our death onwards, the adventure of -the universe becomes our own adventure. Let us not, therefore, say to -ourselves: - -“What can it matter? We shall not be there.” - -We shall be there always, because everything will be there. - - -4 - -And will this everything wherein we shall be included, in a world ever -seeking itself, continue a prey to new and perpetual and perhaps painful -experiences? Since the part that we were was unhappy, why should the part -that we shall be enjoy a better fortune? Who can assure us that yonder -the unending combinations and endeavours will not be more sorrowful, -more stupid and more baneful than those which we are leaving; and how -shall we explain that these have come about after so many millions of -others which ought to have opened the eyes of the genius of infinity? -It is idle to persuade ourselves, as Hindu wisdom would, that our -sorrows are but illusions and appearances: it is none the less true that -they make us very really unhappy. Has the universe elsewhere a more -complete consciousness, a more just and serene understanding than on -this earth and in the worlds which we discern? And, if it be true that -it has somewhere attained that better understanding, why does the mind -that presides over the destinies of our earth not profit by it? Is no -communication possible between worlds which must have been born of the -same idea and which lie in its depths? What would be the mystery of that -isolation? Are we to believe that the earth marks the farthest stage and -the most successful experiment? What, then, can the mind of the universe -have done and against what darkness must it have struggled, to have come -only to this? But, on the other hand, that darkness and those barriers -which can have come only from itself, since they could have arisen no -elsewhere, have they the power to stay its progress? Who then could have -set those insoluble problems to infinity and from what more remote and -profound region than itself could they have issued? Some one, after all, -must know the answer; and, as behind infinity there can be none that is -not infinity itself, it is impossible to imagine a malignant will in a -will that leaves no point around it which is not wholly covered. Or are -the experiments begun in the stars continued mechanically, by virtue of -the force acquired, without regard to their uselessness and their pitiful -consequences, according to the custom of nature, who knows nothing of -our parsimony and squanders the suns in space as she does the seed on -earth, knowing that nothing can be lost? Or, again, is the whole question -of our peace and happiness, like that of the fate of the worlds, reduced -to knowing whether or not the infinity of endeavours and combinations be -equal to that of eternity? Or, lastly, to come to what is most likely, is -it we who deceive ourselves, who know nothing, who see nothing and who -consider imperfect that which is perhaps faultless, we who are but an -infinitesimal fragment of the intelligence which we judge by the aid of -the little shreds of understanding which it has vouchsafed to lend us? - - -5 - -How could we reply, how could our thoughts and glances penetrate the -infinite and the invisible, we who do not understand nor even see the -thing by which we see and which is the source of all our thoughts? In -fact, as has been very justly observed, man does not see light itself. -He sees only matter, or rather the small part of the great worlds which -he knows by the name of matter, touched by light. He does not perceive -the immense rays that cross the heavens save at the moment when they are -stopped by an object akin to those with which his eye is familiar upon -this earth: were it otherwise, the whole space filled with innumerable -suns and boundless forces, instead of being an abyss of absolute -darkness, absorbing and extinguishing shafts of light that shoot across -it from every side, would be but a monstrous and unbearable ocean of -flashes. - -And, if we do not see the light, at least we think we know a few of its -rays or its reflections; but we are absolutely ignorant of that which is -unquestionably the essential law of the universe, namely, gravitation. -What is that force, the most powerful of all and the least visible, -imperceptible to our senses, without form, without colour, without -temperature, without substance, without savour and without voice, but -so awful that it suspends and moves in space all the worlds which we -see and all those which we shall never know? More rapid, more subtle, -more incorporeal than thought, it wields such sway over everything that -exists, from the infinitely great to the infinitely small, that there is -not a grain of sand upon our earth nor a drop of blood in our veins but -are penetrated, wrought upon and quickened by it until they act at every -moment upon the farthest planet of the last solar system that we struggle -to imagine beyond the bounds of our imagination. - -Shakspeare’s famous lines, - - “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, - Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” - -have long since become utterly inadequate. There are no longer more -things than our philosophy can dream of or imagine: there is none but -things which it cannot dream of, there is nothing but the unimaginable; -and, if we do not even see the light, which is the one thing that we -believed we saw, it may be said that there is nothing all around us but -the invisible. - -We move in the illusion of seeing and knowing that which is strictly -indispensable to our little lives. As for all the rest, which is -well-nigh everything, our organs not only debar us from reaching, seeing -or feeling it, but even restrain us from suspecting what it is, just -as they would prevent us from understanding it if an intelligence of -a different order were to bethink itself of revealing or explaining -it to us. The number and volume of those mysteries is as boundless as -the universe itself. If mankind were one day to draw near to those -which to-day it deems the greatest and the most inaccessible, such -as the origin and the aim of life, it would at once behold rising up -behind them, like eternal mountains, others quite as great and quite -as unfathomable; and so on, without end. In relation to that which it -would have to know in order to hold the key to the riddle of this world, -it would always find itself at the same point of central ignorance. It -would be just the same if we possessed an intelligence several million -times greater and more penetrating than ours. All that its miraculously -increased power could discover would encounter limits no less impassable -than at present. All is boundless in that which has no bounds. We shall -be the eternal prisoners of the universe. It is therefore impossible for -us to appreciate in any degree whatsoever, in the smallest conceivable -respect, the present state of the universe and to say, as long as we -are men, whether it follows a straight line or describes an immense -circle, whether it is growing wiser or madder, whether it is advancing -towards the eternity which has no end or retracing its steps towards that -which had no beginning. Our sole privilege within our tiny confines is -to struggle towards that which appears to us the best, and to remain -heroically persuaded that no part of what we do within those confines can -ever be wholly lost. - - -6 - -But let not all these insoluble questions drive us towards fear. From the -point of view of our future beyond the grave, it is in no way necessary -that we should have an answer to everything. Whether the universe have -already found its consciousness, whether it find it one day or seek it -everlastingly, it could not exist for the purpose of being unhappy and -of suffering, either in its entirety, or in any one of its parts; and it -matters little if the latter be invisible or incommensurable, considering -that the smallest is as great as the greatest in what has neither limit -nor measure. To torture a point is the same thing as to torture the -worlds; and, if it torture the worlds, it is its own substance that it -tortures. Its very fate, wherein we have our part, protects us; for we -are simply morsels of infinity. It is inseparable from us as we are -inseparable from it. Its breath is our breath, its aim is our aim and we -bear within us all its mysteries. We participate in it everywhere. There -is naught in us that escapes it; there is naught in it but belongs to -us. It extends us, fills us, traverses us on every side. In space and -time and in that which, beyond space and time, has as yet no name, we -represent it and summarize it completely, with all its properties and all -its future; and, if its immensity terrifies us, we are as terrifying as -itself. - -If, therefore, we had to suffer in it, our sufferings could be but -ephemeral; and nothing matters that is not eternal. It is possible, -although somewhat incomprehensible, that parts should err and go -astray; but it is impossible that sorrow should be one of its lasting -and necessary laws; for it would have brought that law to bear against -itself. In like manner, the universe is and must be its own law and its -sole master: if not, the law or the master whom it must obey would be -the universe alone; and the centre of a word which we pronounce without -being able to grasp its scope would be simply shifted. If it be unhappy, -that means that it wills its own unhappiness; if it will its unhappiness, -it is mad; and, if it appear to us mad, that means that our reason works -contrary to everything and to the only laws possible, seeing that they -are eternal, or, to speak more humbly, that it judges what it wholly -fails to understand. - - -7 - -Everything, therefore, must end, or perhaps already be, if not in a state -of happiness, at least in a state exempt from all suffering, all anxiety, -all lasting unhappiness; and what, after all, is our happiness upon this -earth, if it be not the absence of sorrow, anxiety and unhappiness? - -But it is childish to talk of happiness and unhappiness where infinity is -in question. The idea which we entertain of happiness and unhappiness is -something so special, so human, so fragile that it does not exceed our -stature and falls to dust as soon as we take it out of its little sphere. -It proceeds entirely from a few contingencies of our nerves, which are -made to appreciate very slight happenings, but which could as easily have -felt everything the opposite way and taken pleasure in that which is now -pain. - -I do not know if my readers remember the striking passage in which Sir -William Crookes shows how well-nigh all that we consider as essential -laws of nature would be falsified in the eyes of a microscopic man, while -forces of which we are almost wholly ignorant, such as surface-tension, -capillarity or the Brownian movements, would preponderate. Walking on -a cabbage-leaf, for instance, after the dew had fallen, and seeing it -studded with huge crystal globes, he would infer that water was a solid -body which assumes spherical form and rises in the air. At no great -distance, he might come to a pond, when he would observe that this -same matter, instead of rising upwards, now seems to slope downwards -in a vast curve from the brink. If he managed, with the aid of his -friends, to throw into the water one of those enormous steel bars which -we call needles, he would see that it made a sort of concave trough -on the surface and floated tranquilly. From these experiments and a -thousand others which he might make, he would naturally deduce theories -diametrically opposed to those upon which our entire existence is based. -It would be the same if the changes were made in the direction of time, -to take an hypothesis imagined by the philosopher William James: - -“Suppose we were able, within the length of a second, to note distinctly -ten thousand events instead of barely ten, as now; if our life were then -destined to hold the same number of impressions it might be a thousand -times as short. We should live less than a month, and personally know -nothing of the change of seasons. If born in winter, we should believe -in summer as we now believe in the heats of the carboniferous era. -The motions of organic beings would be so slow to our senses as to be -inferred, not seen. The sun would stand still in the sky, the moon be -almost free from change and so on. But now reverse the hypothesis, and -suppose a being to get only one thousandth part of the sensations that we -get in a given time, and consequently to live a thousand times as long. -Winters and summers will be to him like quarters of an hour. Mushrooms -and the swifter growing plants will shoot into being so rapidly as to -appear instantaneous creations; annual shrubs will rise and fall from the -earth like restlessly boiling water-springs; the motions of animals will -be as invisible as are to us the movements of bullets and cannon-balls; -the sun will scour through the sky like a meteor, leaving a fiery trail -behind him, etc. That such imaginary cases (barring the superhuman -longevity) may be realized somewhere in the animal kingdom, it would be -rash to deny.” - - -8 - -We believe that we see nothing hanging over us but catastrophes, deaths, -torments and disasters; we shiver at the mere thought of the great -interplanetary spaces, with their intense cold and their awful and gloomy -solitudes; and we imagine that the worlds that revolve through space are -as unhappy as ourselves because they freeze, or disaggregate, or clash -together, or are consumed in unutterable flames. We infer from this -that the genius of the universe is an abominable tyrant, seized with a -monstrous madness, delighting only in the torture of itself and all that -it contains. To millions of stars, each many thousand times larger than -our sun, to nebulæ whose nature and dimensions no figure, no word in our -language is able to express, we attribute our momentary sensibility, -the little ephemeral play of our nerves; and we are convinced that life -there must be impossible or appalling, because we should feel too hot -or too cold. It were much wiser to say to ourselves that it would need -but a trifle, a few papillæ more or less to our skin, the slightest -modification of our eyes and ears, to turn the temperature of space, its -silence and its darkness into a delicious springtime, an incomparable -music, a divine light. - -“Nothing is too wonderful to be true,” said Faraday. - -It were much more reasonable to persuade ourselves that the catastrophes -which our imagination sees there are life itself, the joy and one or -other of those immense festivals of mind and matter in which death, -thrusting aside at last our two enemies, time and space, will soon permit -us to take part. Each world dissolving, extinguished, crumbling, burnt -or colliding with another world and pulverized means the commencement of -a magnificent experiment, the dawn of a marvellous hope and perhaps an -unexpected happiness drawn direct from the inexhaustible unknown. What -though they freeze or flame, collect or disperse, pursue or flee one -another: mind and matter, no longer united by the same pitiful hazard -that joined them in us, must rejoice at all that happens; for all is but -birth and rebirth, a departure into an unknown filled with wonderful -promises and maybe an anticipation of some ineffable event. - - - - -VII - -CONCLUSIONS - - -1 - -In order to retain a livelier image of all this and a more exact memory, -let us give a last glance at the road which we have travelled. We have -put aside, for reasons which we have stated, the religious solutions and -total annihilation. Annihilation is physically impossible; the religious -solutions occupy a citadel without doors or windows into which human -reason does not penetrate. Next comes the theory of the survival of -our ego, released from its body, but retaining a full and unimpaired -consciousness of its identity. We have seen that this theory, strictly -defined, has very little likelihood and is not greatly to be desired, -although, with the surrender of the body, the source of all our ills, -it seems less to be feared than our actual existence. On the other -hand, as soon as we try to extend or to exalt it, so that it may appear -less barbarous or less crude, we come back to the theory of a cosmic -consciousness or of a modified consciousness, which, together with that -of survival without any sort of consciousness, closes the field to every -supposition and exhausts every forecast of the imagination. - -Survival without any sort of consciousness would be tantamount for us to -annihilation pure and simple, and consequently would be no more dreadful -than the latter, that is to say, than a sleep with no dreams and with -no awakening. The theory is unquestionably more acceptable than that of -annihilation; but it prejudges very rashly the questions of a cosmic -consciousness and of a modified consciousness. - - -2 - -Before replying to these, we must choose our universe, for we have the -choice. It is a matter of knowing how we propose to look at infinity. Is -it the moveless, immovable infinity, from all eternity perfect and at -its zenith, and the purposeless universe that our reason will conceive -at the farthest point of our thoughts? Do we believe that, at our death, -the illusion of movement and progress which we see from the depths of -this life will suddenly fade away? If so, it is inevitable that, at our -last breath, we shall be absorbed in what, for lack of a better term, we -call the cosmic consciousness. Are we, on the other hand, persuaded that -death will reveal to us that the illusion lies not in our senses but in -our reason and that, in a world incontestably alive, despite the eternity -preceding our birth, all the experiments have not been made, that is -to say that movement and evolution continue and will never and nowhere -stop? In that case, we must at once accept the theory of a modified -or progressive consciousness. The two aspects, after all, are equally -unintelligible but defensible; and, although really irreconcilable, they -agree on one point, namely, that unending pain and unredeemed misery are -alike excluded from them both for ever. - - -3 - -The theory of a modified consciousness does not necessitate the loss -of the tiny consciousness acquired in our body; but it makes it almost -negligible, flings, drowns and dissolves it in infinity. It is of course -impossible to support this theory with satisfactory proofs; but it is -not easy to shatter it like the others. Were it permissible to speak -of likeness to truth in this connexion, when our only truth is that we -do not see the truth, it is the most likely of the interim theories -and gives a magnificent opening for the most plausible, varied and -alluring dreams. Will our ego, our soul, our spirit, or whatever we call -that which will survive us in order to continue us as we are, will it -find again, on leaving the body, the innumerable lives which it must -have lived since the thousands of years that had no beginning? Will -it continue to increase by assimilating all that it meets in infinity -during the thousands of years that will have no end? Will it linger for -a time around our earth, leading, in regions invisible to our eyes, an -ever higher and happier existence, as the theosophists and spiritualists -contend? Will it move towards other planetary systems, will it emigrate -to other worlds, whose existence is not even suspected by our senses? -Everything seems permissible in this great dream, save that which might -arrest its flight. - -Nevertheless, so soon as it ventures too far in the ultramondane spaces, -it crashes into strange obstacles and breaks its wings against them. If -we admit that our ego does not remain eternally what it was at the moment -of our death, we can no longer imagine that, at a given second, it stops, -ceases to expand and rise, attains its perfection and its fulness, to -become no more than a sort of motionless wreck suspended in eternity and -a finished thing in the midst of that which will never finish. That would -indeed be the only real death and the more fearful inasmuch as it would -set a limit to an unparalleled life and intelligence, beside which those -which we possess here below would not even weigh what a drop of water -weighs when compared with the ocean, or a grain of sand when placed in -the scales with a mountain-chain. In a word, either we believe that our -evolution will one day stop, implying thereby an incomprehensible end -and a sort of inconceivable death; or we admit that it has no limit, -whereupon, being infinite, it assumes all the properties of infinity -and must needs be lost in infinity and united with it. This, withal, -is the latter end of theosophy, spiritualism and all the religions in -which man, in his ultimate happiness, is absorbed by God. And this again -is an incomprehensible end, but at least it is life. And then, taking -one incomprehensibility with another, after doing all that is humanly -possible to understand one or the other riddle, let us by preference -leap into the greatest and therefore the most probable, the one which -contains all the others and after which nothing more remains. If not, the -questions reappear at every stage and the answers are always conflicting. -And questions and answers lead us to the same inevitable abyss. As we -shall have to face it sooner or later, why not make for it straightway? -All that happens to us in the interval interests us beyond a doubt, but -does not detain us, because it is not eternal. - - -4 - -Behold us then before the mystery of the cosmic consciousness. Although -we are incapable of understanding the act of an infinity that would have -to fold itself up in order to feel itself and consequently to define -itself and separate itself from other things, this is not an adequate -reason for declaring it impossible; for, if we were to reject all the -realities and impossibilities that we do not understand, there would be -nothing left for us to live upon. If this consciousness exist under the -form which we have conceived, it is evident that we shall be there and -take part in it. If there be a consciousness somewhere, or some thing -that takes the place of consciousness, we shall be in that consciousness -or that thing, because we cannot be elsewhere. And as this consciousness -or this thing cannot be unhappy, because it is impossible that infinity -should exist for its own unhappiness, neither shall we be unhappy when -we are in it. Lastly, if the infinity into which we shall be projected -have no sort of consciousness nor anything that stands for it, the reason -will be that consciousness, or anything that might replace it, is not -indispensable to eternal happiness. - - -5 - -That, I think, is about as much as we may be permitted to declare, -for the moment, to the spirit anxiously facing the unfathomable space -wherein death will shortly hurl it. It can still hope to find there -the fulfilment of its dreams; it will perhaps find less to dread than -it had feared. If it prefer to remain expectant and to accept none of -the theories which I have expounded to the best of my power and without -prejudice, it nevertheless seems difficult not to welcome, at least, this -great assurance which we find at the bottom of every one of them, namely, -that infinity could not be malevolent, seeing that, if it eternally -tortured the least among us, it would be torturing something which it -cannot tear out of itself and that it would therefore be torturing its -very self. - -I have added nothing to what was already known. I have simply tried to -separate what may be true from that which is assuredly not true; for, if -we do not know where truth is, we nevertheless learn to know where it is -not. And perhaps, in seeking for that undiscoverable truth, we shall have -accustomed our eyes to pierce the terror of the last hour by looking it -full in the face. Many things, beyond a doubt, remain to be said which -others will say with greater force and brilliancy. But we need have no -hope that any one will utter on this earth the word that shall put an end -to our uncertainties. It is very probable, on the contrary, that no one -in this world, nor perhaps in the next, will discover the great secret of -the universe. And, if we reflect upon this even for a moment, it is most -fortunate that it should be so. We have not only to resign ourselves to -living in the incomprehensible, but to rejoice that we cannot go out of -it. If there were no more insoluble questions nor impenetrable riddles, -infinity would not be infinite; and then we should have for ever to curse -the fate that placed us in a universe proportionate to our intelligence. -All that exists would be but a gateless prison, an irreparable evil and -mistake. The unknown and the unknowable are necessary and will perhaps -always be necessary to our happiness. In any case, I would not wish -my worst enemy, were his understanding a thousandfold loftier and a -thousandfold mightier than mine, to be condemned eternally to inhabit a -world of which he had surprised an essential secret and of which, as a -man, he had begun to grasp the least tittle. - - - - -VIII - -THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE FUTURE - - -1 - -What is known as premonition or precognition leads us to mysterious -regions, where stands, half-emerging from an intolerable darkness, the -gravest problem that can thrill mankind, the knowledge of the future. The -latest, the best and the most complete study devoted to it is, I believe, -that published by M. Ernest Bozzano under the title _Des Phénomènes -prémonitoires_. Availing himself of excellent earlier work, notably -that of Mrs. Sidgwick and Myers,[9] and adding the result of his own -researches, the author collects some thousand cases of precognition, of -which he discusses one hundred and sixty, leaving the great majority of -the others on one side, not because they are negligible, but because he -does not wish to exceed too flagrantly the normal limits of a monograph. - -He begins by carefully eliminating all the episodes which, though -apparently premonitory, may be explained by self-suggestion (as in -the case, for instance, where some one smitten with a disease still -latent seems to foresee this disease and the death which will be its -conclusion), by telepathy (when a sensitive is aware beforehand of the -arrival of a person or a letter), or lastly by clairvoyance (when a man -dreams of the spot where he will find something which he has mislaid, or -an uncommon plant, or an insect sought for in vain, or the unknown place -which he will visit at some later date). - -In all these cases, we have not, properly speaking, to do with a pure -future, but rather with a present that is not yet known. Thus reduced -and stripped of all foreign influences and intrusions, the number of -instances wherein there is a really clear and incontestable perception -of a fragment of the future remains large enough, contrary to what -is generally believed, to make it impossible for us to speak of -extraordinary accidents or wonderful coincidences. There must be a limit -to everything, even to distrust, even to the most extensive incredulity, -otherwise all historical research and a good deal of scientific research -would become decidedly impracticable. And this remark applies as much -to the nature of the incidents related as to the actual authenticity -of the narratives. We can contest or suspect any story whatever, any -written proof, any evidence; but thenceforward we must abandon all -certainty or knowledge that is not acquired by means of mathematical -operations or laboratory experiments, that is to say, three-fourths of -the human phenomena that chiefly interest us. Observe that the records -collected by the investigators of the S. P. R., like those discussed by -M. Bozzano, are all told at first hand, and that those stories of which -the narrators were not the protagonists or the direct witnesses have -been ruthlessly rejected. Furthermore, some of these narratives are -necessarily of the nature of medical observations; as for the others, -if we attentively examine the character of those who have related them -and the circumstances which corroborate them, we shall agree that it is -more just and more reasonable to believe in them than to look upon every -man who has an extraordinary experience as being _a priori_ a liar, the -victim of an hallucination, or a wag. - - -2 - -There could be no question of giving here even a brief analysis of -the most striking cases. It would require a hundred pages and would -alter the whole nature of this essay, which, to keep within its proper -dimensions, must take it for granted that most of the materials which -it examines are familiar. I therefore refer the reader who may wish to -form an opinion for himself to the easily-accessible sources which I have -mentioned above. It will suffice to give an accurate idea of the gravity -of the problem to any one who has not time or opportunity to consult -the original documents if I sum up in a few words some of these pioneer -adventures, selected among those which seem least open to dispute; for -it goes without saying that all have not the same value, otherwise the -question would be settled. There are some which, while exceedingly -striking at first sight and offering every guarantee that could be -desired as to authenticity, nevertheless do not imply a real knowledge of -the future and can be interpreted in another manner. I give one, to serve -as an instance; it is reported by Dr. Alphonse Teste in his _Manuel -pratique du magnetisme animal_. - -On the 8th of May, Dr. Teste magnetizes Mme. Hortense ⸺ in the presence -of her husband. She is no sooner asleep than she announces that she has -been pregnant for a fortnight, that she will not go her full time, that -“she will take fright at something,” that she will have a fall and that -the result will be a miscarriage. She adds that, on the 12th of May, -after having had a fright, she will have a fainting-fit which will last -for eight minutes; and she then describes, hour by hour, the course of -her malady, which will end in three days’ loss of reason, from which she -will recover. - -On awaking, she retains no recollection of anything that has passed; it -is kept from her; and Dr. Teste communicates his notes to Dr. Amédée -Latour. On the 12th of May, he calls on M. and Mme. ⸺, finds them at -table and puts Mme. ⸺ to sleep again, whereupon she repeats word for word -what she told him four days before. They wake her up. The dangerous hour -is drawing near. They take every imaginable precaution and even close the -shutters. Mme. ⸺, made uneasy by these extraordinary measures which she -is quite unable to understand, asks what they are going to do to her. -Half-past three o’clock strikes. Mme. ⸺ rises from the sofa on which they -have made her sit and wants to leave the room. The doctor and her husband -try to prevent her. - -“But what is the matter with you?” she asks. “I simply must go out.” - -“No, madame, you shall not: I speak in the interest of your health.” - -“Well, then, doctor,” she replies, with a smile, “if it is in the -interest of my health, that is all the more reason why you should let me -go out.” - -The excuse is a plausible one and even irresistible; but the husband, -wishing to carry the struggle against destiny to the last, declares that -he will accompany his wife. The doctor remains alone, feeling somewhat -anxious, in spite of the rather farcical turn which the incident has -taken. Suddenly, a piercing shriek is heard and the noise of a body -falling. He runs out and finds Mme. ⸺ wild with fright and apparently -dying in her husband’s arms. At the moment when, leaving him for an -instant, she opened the door of the place where she was going, a rat, the -first seen there for twenty years, rushed at her and gave her so great a -start that she fell flat on her back. And all the rest of the prediction -was fulfilled to the letter, hour by hour and detail by detail. - - -3 - -To make it quite clear in what spirit I am undertaking this study -and to remove at the beginning any suspicion of blind or systematic -credulity, I am anxious, before going any further, to say that I fully -realize that cases of this kind by no means carry conviction. It is -quite possible that everything happened in the subconscious imagination -of the subject and that she herself created, by self-suggestion her -illness, her fright, her fall and her miscarriage and adapted herself -to most of the circumstances which she had foretold in her secondary -state. The appearance of the rat at the fatal moment is the only thing -that would suggest a precise and disquieting vision of an inevitable -future event. Unfortunately, we are not told that the rat was perceived -by other witnesses than the patient, so that there is nothing to prove -that it also was not imaginary. I have therefore quoted this inadequate -instance only because it represents fairly well the general aspect and -the indecisive value of many similar cases, and enables us to note once -and for all the objections which can be raised and the precautions which -we should take before entering these suspicious and obscure regions. - -We now come to an infinitely more significant and less questionable -case related by Dr. Joseph Maxwell, the learned and very scrupulous -author of _Les Phénomènes psychiques_, a work which has been translated -into English under the title of _Metapsychical Phenomena_. It concerns -a vision which was described to him eight days before the event and -which he told to many people before it was accomplished. A sensitive -perceived in a crystal the following scene: a large steamer, flying a -flag of three horizontal bars, black, white and red, and bearing the name -_Leutschland_, was sailing in mid-ocean; the boat was suddenly enveloped -in smoke; a great number of sailors, passengers and men in uniform rushed -to the upper deck; and the boat went down. - -Eight days afterwards, the newspapers announced the accident to the -_Deutschland_, whose boiler had burst, obliging the steamboat to stand -to. - -The evidence of a man like Dr. Maxwell, especially when we have to do -with a so-to-speak personal incident, possesses an importance on which it -is needless to insist. We have here, therefore, several days beforehand, -the very clear prevision of an event which, moreover, in no way concerns -the percipient: a curious detail, but one which is not uncommon in these -cases. The mistake in reading _Leutschland_ for _Deutschland_, which -would have been quite natural in real life, adds a note of probability -and authenticity to the phenomenon. As for the final act, the foundering -of the vessel in the place of a simple heaving to, we must see in this, -as Dr. J. W. Pickering and W. A. Sadgrove suggest, “the subconscious -dramatization of a subliminal inference of the percipient.” Such -dramatizations, moreover, are instinctive and almost general in this -class of visions. - -If this were an isolated case, it would certainly not be right to attach -decisive importance to it; “but,” Dr. Maxwell observes, “the same -sensitive has given me other curious instances; and these cases, compared -with others which I myself have observed or with those of which I have -received first-hand accounts, render the hypothesis of coincidence very -improbable, though they do not absolutely exclude it.”[10] - - -4 - -Another and perhaps more convincing case, more strictly investigated -and established, a case which clearly does not admit of explanation by -the theory of coincidence, worthy of all respect though this theory -be, is that related by M. Théodore Flournoy, professor of science -at the university of Geneva, in his remarkable work, _Esprits et -médiums_. Professor Flournoy is known to be one of the most learned -and critical exponents of the new science of metapsychics. He even -carries his fondness for natural explanations and his repugnance to -admit the intervention of superhuman powers to a point whither it is -often difficult to follow him. I will give the narrative as briefly as -possible. It will be found in full on pp. 348 to 362 of his masterly book. - -In August 1883, a certain Mme. Buscarlet, whom he knew personally, -returned to Geneva after spending three years with the Moratief family -at Kazan as governess to two girls. She continued to correspond with the -family and also with a Mme. Nitchinof, who kept a school at Kazan to -which Mlles. Moratief, Mme. Buscarlet’s former pupils, went after her -departure. - -On the night of the 9th of December (O.S.) of the same year, Mme. -Buscarlet had a dream which she described the following morning in a -letter to Mme. Moratief, dated 10 December. She wrote, to quote her own -words: - -“You and I were on a country-road when a carriage passed in front of us -and a voice from inside called to us. When we came up to the carriage, we -saw Mlle. Olga Popoi lying across it, clothed in white, wearing a bonnet -trimmed with yellow ribbons. She said to you: - -“‘I called you to tell you that Mme. Nitchinof will leave the school on -the 17th.’ - -“The carriage then drove on.” - -A week later and three days before the letter reached Kazan, the event -foreseen in the dream was fulfilled in a tragic fashion. Mme. Nitchinof -died on the 16th of an infectious disease; and on the 17th her body was -carried out of the school for fear of infection. - -It is well to add that both Mme. Buscarlet’s letter and the replies which -came from Russia were communicated to Professor Flournoy and bear the -post-mark dates. - -Such premonitory dreams are frequent; but it does not often happen that -circumstances and especially the existence of a document dated previous -to their fulfilment give them such incontestable authenticity. - -We may remark in passing the odd character of this premonition. The date -is fixed precisely; but only a veiled and mysterious allusion (the woman -lying across the carriage and cloaked in white) is made to the essential -part of the prediction, the illness and death. Was there a coincidence, a -vision of the future pure and simple, or a vision of the future suggested -by telepathic influence? The theory of coincidence can be defended, if -need be, here as every elsewhere, but would be very extraordinary in this -case. As for telepathic influence, we should have to suppose that, on -the 9th of December, a week before her death, Mme. Nitchinof had in her -subconsciousness a presentiment of her end and that she transmitted this -presentiment across some thousands of miles, from Kazan to Geneva, to -a person with whom she had never been intimate. It is very complex but -possible, for telepathy often has these disconcerting ways. If this were -so, the case would be one of latent illness or even of self-suggestion; -and the preexistence of the future, without being entirely disproved, -would be less clearly established. - - -5 - -Let us pass to other examples. I quote from an excellent article on -the importance of precognitions, by Messrs. Pickering and Sadgrove, -which appeared in the _Annales des sciences psychiques_ for 1 February -1908, the summary of an experiment by Mrs. A. W. Verrall told in full -detail in Vol. XX. of the _Proceedings_. Mrs. Verrall is a celebrated -“automatist”; and her “cross-correspondences” occupy a whole volume of -the _Proceedings_. Her good faith, her sincerity, her fairness and her -scientific precision are above suspicion; and she is one of the most -active and respected members of the Society for Psychical Research. - -On the 11th of May 1901, at 11.10 P.M., Mrs. Verrall wrote as follows: - -“Do not hurry ____ date this ____ hoc est quod volui—tandem. δικαιοσύνη -καὶ χαρὰ συμφωνεῖ συνετοῖσιν. A. W. V. καὶ ἄλλῳ τινὶ ἴσως. calx pedibus -inhaerens difficultatem superavit. magnopere adiuvas persectando semper. -Nomen inscribere iam possum—sic, en tibi!”[11] - -After the writing comes a humorous drawing representing a bird walking. - -That same night, as there were said to be “uncanny happenings” in some -rooms near the London Law Courts, the watchers arranged to sit through -the night in the empty chambers. Precautions were taken to prevent -intrusion and powdered chalk was spread on the floor of the two smaller -rooms, “to trace anybody or anything that might come or go.” Mrs. -Verrall knew nothing of the matter. The phenomena began at 12.43 A.M. -and ended at 2.9 A.M. The watchers noticed marks on the powdered chalk. -On examination it was seen that the marks were “clearly defined bird’s -footprints in the middle of the floor, three in the left-hand room and -five in the right-hand room.” The marks were identical and exactly 2¾ -inches in width; they might be compared to the footprints of a bird about -the size of a turkey. The footprints were observed at 2.30 A.M.; the -unexplained phenomena had begun at 12.43 that same morning. The words -about “chalk sticking to the feet” are a singularly appropriate comment -on the events; but the remarkable point is that Mrs. Verrall wrote what -we have said one hour and thirty-three minutes before the events took -place. - -The persons who watched in the two rooms were questioned by Mr. J. G. -Piddington, a member of the council of the S. P. R., and declared that -they had not any expectation of what they discovered. I need hardly add -that Mrs. Verrall had never heard anything about the happenings in the -haunted house and that the watchers were completely ignorant of Mrs. -Verrall’s existence. - -Here then is a very curious prediction of an event, insignificant in -itself, which is to happen, in a house unknown to the one who foretells -it, to people whom she does not know either. The spiritualists, who score -in this case, not without some reason, will have it that a spirit, in -order to prove its existence and its intelligence, organized this little -scene in which the future, the present and the past are all mixed up -together. Are they right? Or is Mrs. Verrall’s subconsciousness roaming -like this, at random, in the future? It is certain that the problem has -seldom appeared under a more baffling aspect. - - -6 - -We will now take another premonitory dream, strictly controlled by the -committee of the S. P. R.[12] Early in September 1893, Annette, wife -of Walter Jones, tobacconist, of Old Gravel Lane, East London, had her -little boy ill. One night she dreamt that she saw a cart drive up and -stop near where she was. It contained three coffins, “two white and one -blue. One white coffin was bigger than the other; and the blue was the -biggest of the three.” The driver took out the bigger white coffin and -left it at the mother’s feet, driving off with the others. Mrs. Jones -told her dream to her husband and to a neighbour, laying particular -stress on the curious circumstance that one of the coffins was blue. - -On the 10th of September, a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Jones was confined of -a boy, who died on the 29th of the same month. Their own little boy died -on the following Monday, the 2nd of October, being then sixteen months -old. It was decided to bury the two children on the same day. On the -morning of the day chosen, the parish priest informed Mr. and Mrs. Jones -that another child had died in the neighbourhood and that its body would -be brought into church along with the two others. Mrs. Jones remarked to -her husband: - -“If the coffin is blue, then my dream will come true. For the two other -coffins were white.” - -The third coffin was brought; it was blue. It remains to be observed -that the dimensions of the coffins corresponded exactly with the dream -premonitions, the smallest being that of the child who died first, the -next that of the little Jones boy, who was sixteen months old, and the -largest, the blue one, that of a boy six years of age. - -Let us take, more or less at random, another case from the inexhaustible -_Proceedings_.[13] The report is written by Mr. Alfred Cooper and -attested by the Duchess of Hamilton, the Duke of Manchester and another -gentleman to whom the duchess related the incident before the fulfilment -of the prophetic vision: - -“A fortnight before the death of the late Earl of L⸺,” says Mr. Cooper, -“in 1882, I called upon the Duke of Hamilton, in Hill Street, to see -him professionally. After I had finished seeing him, we went into the -drawing-room, where the duchess was, and the duke said to me: - -“‘Oh, Cooper, how is the earl?’ - -“The duchess said, ‘What earl?’ and, on my answering, ‘Lord L⸺,’ she -replied: - -“‘That is very odd. I have had a most extraordinary vision. I went to -bed, but, after being in bed a short time, I was not exactly asleep, but -thought I saw a scene as if from a play before me. The actors in it were -Lord L⸺, in a chair, as if in a fit, with a man standing over him with a -red beard. He was by the side of a bath, over which bath a red lamp was -distinctly shown.’ - -“I then said: - -“‘I am attending Lord L⸺ at present; there is very little the matter with -him; he is not going to die; he will be all right very soon.’ - -“Well, he got better for a week and was nearly well, but, at the end of -six or seven days after this, I was called to see him suddenly. He had -inflammation of both lungs. - -“I called in Sir William Jenner, but in six days he was a dead man. There -were two male nurses attending on him; one had been taken ill. But, when -I saw the other, the dream of the duchess was exactly represented. He was -standing near a bath over the earl and, strange to say, his beard was -red. There was the bath with the red lamp over it; and this brought the -story to my mind. - -“The vision seen by the duchess was told two weeks before the death of -Lord L⸺. It is a most remarkable thing.” - - -7 - -But it is impossible to find space for the many instances related. As -I have said, there are hundreds of them, making their tracks in every -direction across the plains of the future. Those which I have quoted -give a sufficient idea of the predominating tone and the general aspect -of this sort of story. It is nevertheless right to add that many of -them are not at all tragic and that premonition opens its mysterious -and capricious vistas of the future in connection with the most diverse -and insignificant events. It cares but little for the human value of -the occurrence and puts the vision of a number in a lottery on the same -plane as the most dramatic death. The roads by which it reaches us are -also unexpected and varied. Often, as in the examples quoted, it comes -to us in a dream. Sometimes, it is an auditory or visual hallucination -which seizes upon us while awake; sometimes, an indefinable but clear -and irresistible presentiment, a shapeless but powerful obsession, an -absurd but imperative certainty which rises from the depths of our inner -darkness, where perhaps lies hidden the final answer to every riddle. - -One might illustrate each of these manifestations with numerous examples. -I will mention only a few, selected not among the most striking or the -most attractive, but among those which have been most strictly tested -and investigated.[14] A young peasant from the neighbourhood of Ghent, -two months before the drawing for the conscription, announces to all and -sundry that he will draw number 90 from the urn. On entering the presence -of the district-commissioner in charge, he asks if number 90 is still in. -The answer is yes. - -“Well, then, I shall have it!” - -And to the general amazement, he does draw number 90. - -Questioned as to the manner in which he acquired this strange certainty, -he declares that, two months ago, just after he had gone to bed, he saw a -huge, indescribable form appear in a corner of his room with the number -90 standing out plainly in the middle, in figures the size of a man’s -hand. He sat up in bed and shut and opened his eyes to persuade himself -that he was not dreaming. The apparition remained in the same place, -distinctly and undeniably. - -Professor Georges Hulin, of the university of Ghent, and M. Jules van -Dooren, the district-commissioner, who report the incident, mention -three other similar and equally striking cases witnessed by M. van -Dooren during his term of office. I am the less inclined to doubt their -declaration inasmuch as I am personally acquainted with them and know -that their statements, as regards the objective reality of the facts, -are so to speak equivalent to a legal deposition. M. Bozzano mentions -some previsions which are quite as remarkable in connection with the -gaming-tables at Monte Carlo. - -I repeat, I am aware that, in the case of these occurrences and those -which resemble them, it is possible once again to invoke the theory of -coincidence. It will be contended that there are probably a thousand -predictions of this kind which are never talked about, because they were -not fulfilled, whereas, if one of them is accomplished, which is bound by -the law of probabilities to happen some day or other, the astonishment -is general and free rein is given to the imagination. This is true; -nevertheless, it is well to enquire whether these predictions are as -frequent as is loosely stated. In the matter of those which concern -the conscription-drawings, for instance, I have had the opportunity of -interrogating more than one constant witness of these little dramas of -fate; and all admitted that, on the whole, they are much rarer than one -would believe. Next, we must not forget that there can be no question -here of scientific proofs. We are in the midst of a slippery and nebulous -region, where we would not dare to risk a step if we were not allowing -ourselves to be guided by our feelings rather than by certainties which -we are not forbidden to hope for, but which are not yet in sight. - - -8 - -We will abridge our subject still further, referring readers who wish to -know the details to the originals, lest we should never have done; or -rather, instead of attempting an abridgment, which would still be too -long, so plentiful are the materials, we will content ourselves with -enumerating a few instances, all taken from Bozzano’s _Des Phénomènes -prémonitoires_. We read there of a funeral procession seen on a high-road -several days before it actually passed that way; or, again, of a young -mechanic who, in the beginning of November, dreamt that he came home at -half-past five in the afternoon and saw his sister’s little girl run -over by a tram-car while crossing the street in front of the house. He -told his dream, in great distress; and, on the 13th of the same month, -in spite of all the precautions that had been taken, the child was run -over by the tram-car and killed at the hour named. We find the ghost, -the phantom animal or the mysterious noise which, in certain families, -is the traditional herald of a death or of an imminent catastrophe. We -find the celebrated vision which the painter Segantini had thirteen days -before his decease, every detail of which remained in his mind and was -represented in his last picture, _Death_. We find the Messina disaster -clearly foreseen, twice over, by a little girl who perished under the -ruins of the ill-fated city; and we read of a dream which, three months -before the French invasion of Russia, foretold to Countess Toutschkoff -that her husband would fall at Borodino, a village so little known at the -time that those interested in the dream looked in vain for its name on -the maps. - -Until now we have spoken only of the spontaneous manifestations of the -future. It would seem as though coming events, gathered in front of our -lives, bear with crushing weight upon the uncertain and deceptive dike of -the present, which is no longer able to contain them. They ooze through, -they seek a crevice by which to reach us. But side by side with these -passive, independent and intractable premonitions, which are but so many -vagrant and furtive emanations of the unknown, are others which do yield -to entreaty, allow themselves to be directed into channels, are more or -less obedient to our orders and will sometimes reply to the questions -which we put to them. They come from the same inaccessible reservoir, are -no less mysterious, but yet appear a little more human than the others; -and, without drugging ourselves with puerile or dangerous illusions, -we may be permitted to hope that, if we follow them and study them -attentively, they will one day open to us the hidden paths joining that -which is no more to that which is not yet. - -It is true that here, where we must needs mix with the somewhat lawless -world of professional mystery-mongers, we have to increase our caution -and walk with measured steps on very suspicious ground. But even in -this region of pitfalls we glean a certain number of facts that cannot -reasonably be contested. It will be enough to recall, for instance, -the symbolic premonitions of the famous “seeress of Prevorst,” Frau -Hauffe, whose prophetic spirit was awakened by soap-bubbles, crystals -and mirrors;[15] the clairvoyant who, eighteen years before the event, -foretold the death of a girl by the hand of her rival in 1907, in a -written prophecy which was presented to the court by the mother of -the murdered girl;[16] the gipsy who, also in writing, foretold all -the events in Miss Isabel Arundel’s life, including the name of her -husband, Burton the famous explorer;[17] the sealed letter addressed -to M. Morin, vice-president of the Société du mesmerisme, describing -the most unexpected circumstances of a death that occurred a month -later;[18] the famous “Marmontel prediction,” obtained by Mrs. Verrall’s -cross-correspondences, which gives a vision, two months and a half -before their accomplishment, of the most insignificant actions of a -traveller in an hotel bedroom;[19] and many others. - - -9 - -I will not review the various and very often grotesque methods -of interrogating the future that are most frequently practised -to-day: cards, palmistry, crystal-gazing, fortune-telling by means -of coffee-grounds, tea-leaves, magnetic needles and white of egg, -graphology, astrology and the rest. These methods, as I have said before, -are worth exactly what the medium who employs them is worth. They have no -other object than to arouse the medium’s subconsciousness and to bring -it into relation with that of the person questioning him. As a matter of -fact, all these purely empirical processes are but so many, often puerile -forms of self-manifestation adopted by the undeniable gift which is known -as intuition, clairvoyance or, in certain cases, psychometry. I have -written at length, in my volume entitled _The Unknown Guest_, of this -last faculty and need not linger over it now. All that we have still to -do is to consider it for a moment in its relations with the foretelling -of the future. - -A large number of investigations, notably those conducted by M. Duchatel -and Dr. Osty, show that, in psychometry, the notion of time, as Dr. -Joseph Maxwell observes, is very loose, that is to say, the past, -present and future nearly always overlap. Most of the clairvoyant or -psychometric subjects, when they are honest, do not know, “do not feel,” -as M. Duchatel very ably remarks, “what the future is. They do not -distinguish it from the other tenses; and consequently they succeed in -being prophets, but unconscious prophets.” In a word—and this is a very -important indication from the point of view of the probable coexistence -of the three tenses—it appears that they see that which is not yet with -the same clearness and on the same plane as that which is no more, but -are incapable of separating the two visions and picking out the future -which alone interests us. For a still stronger reason, it is impossible -for them to state dates with precision. Nevertheless, the fact remains -that, when we take the trouble to sift their evidence and have the -patience to await the realization of certain events which are sometimes -not due for a long time to come, the future is fairly often perceived by -some of these strange soothsayers. - -There are psychometers, however, and notably Mme. M⸺, Dr. Osty’s -favourite medium, who never confuse the future and the past. Mme. M⸺ -places her visions in time according to the position which they occupy -in space. Thus she sees the future in front of her, the past behind her -and the present beside her. But, notwithstanding these distinctly-graded -visions, she also is incapable of naming her dates exactly; in fact, her -mistakes in this respect are so general that Dr. Osty looks upon it as -a pure chronological coincidence when a prediction is realized at the -moment foretold. - -We should also observe that, in psychometry, only those events can be -perceived which relate directly to the individual communicating with the -percipient, for it is not so much the percipient that sees into us as -we that read in our own subconsciousness, which is momentarily lighted -by his presence. We must not therefore ask him for predictions of a -general character, whether, for instance, there will be a war in the -spring, an epidemic in the summer or an earthquake in the autumn. The -moment the question concerns events, however important, with which we are -not intimately connected, he is bound to answer, as do all the genuine -mediums, that he sees nothing. - -The area of his vision being thus limited, does he really discover the -future in it? After three years of numerous, cautious and systematic -experiments with some twenty mediums, Dr. Osty categorically declares -that he does: - -“All the incidents,” he says, “which filled these three years of my -life, whether wished for by me or not, or even absolutely contrary to -the ordinary routine of my life, had always been foretold to me, not all -by each of the clairvoyant subjects, but all by one or other of them. As -I have been practising these tests continually, it seems to me that the -experience of three years wholly devoted to this object should give some -weight to my opinion on the subject of predictions.” - -This is incontestable; and the sincerity, scientific conscientiousness -and high intellectual value of Dr. Osty’s fine work inspire one with the -utmost confidence. Unfortunately, he contents himself with quoting too -summarily a few facts and does not, as he ought, give us _in extenso_ -the details of his experiments, controls and tests. I am well aware -that this would be a thankless and wearisome task, necessitating a large -volume which a mass of puerile incidents and inevitable repetitions would -make almost unreadable. Moreover, it could scarcely help taking the form -of an intimate and indiscreet autobiography; and it is not easy to bring -one’s self to make this sort of public confession. But it has to be done. -In a science which is only in its early stages, it is not enough to show -the object attained and to state one’s conviction; it is necessary above -all to describe every path that has been taken and, by an incessant and -infinite accumulation of investigated and attested facts, to enable every -one to draw his own conclusions. This has been the cumbrous and laborious -method of the _Proceedings_ for over thirty years; and it is the only -right one. Discussion is possible and fruitful only at that price. In -all these extra-conscious matters, we have not yet reached the stage of -definite deductions, we are still bringing up materials to the scene of -operations. - -Once more, I know that, in these cases, as I have seen for myself, the -really convincing facts are necessarily very rare; indeed, no elsewhere -do we meet with the same difficulty. If the medium tells you, for -instance, as Mme. M⸺ seems easily to do, how you will employ your day -from the morning onwards, if she sees you in a certain house in a certain -street meeting this or that person, it is impossible to say that, on the -one hand, she is not already reading your as yet unconscious plans or -intentions, or that, on the other hand, by doing what she has foreseen, -you are not obeying a suggestion against which you could not fight -except by violently doing the opposite to what it demands of you, which -again would be a case of inverted suggestion. None therefore would have -any value save predictions of unlikely happenings, clearly defined and -outside the sphere of the person interested. As Dr. Osty says: - -“The ideal prognostication would obviously be that of an event so rare, -so sudden and unexpected, implying such a change in one’s mode of life -that the theory of coincidence could not decently be put forward. But, as -everybody is not, in the peaceful course of his existence, threatened by -such an absolutely convincing event, the clairvoyant cannot always reveal -to the person experimenting—and reveal for a more or less approximate -date—one of those incidents whose accomplishment would carry irresistible -conviction.” - -In any case, the question of psychometric prognostications calls for -further enquiry, though it is easy even at the present day to foresee the -results. - - -10 - -Let us now return to our spontaneous premonitions, in which the future -comes to seek us of its own accord and, so to speak, to challenge us at -home. I know from personal experience that when we embark upon these -disconcerting matters the first impression is scarcely favourable. We are -very much inclined to laugh, to treat as wearisome tales, as hysterical -hallucinations, as ingenious or interested fictions most of the incidents -that give too violent a shock to the narrow and limited idea which we -have of our human life. To smile, to reject everything beforehand and to -pass by with averted head, as was done, remember, in the time of Galvani -and in the early days of hypnotism, is much more easy and seems more -respectable and prudent than to stop, admit and examine. Nevertheless we -must not forget that it is to some who did not smile so lightly that we -owe the best part of the marvels from whose heights we are preparing to -smile in our turn. For the rest, I grant that, thus presented, hastily -and summarily, without the details that throw light upon them and the -proofs that support them, the incidents in question do not show to -advantage and, inasmuch as they are isolated and sparingly chosen, lose -all the weight and authority derived from the compact and imposing mass -whence they are arbitrarily detached. As I said above, nearly a thousand -cases have been collected, representing probably not the tenth part of -those which a more active and general search might bring together. The -number is evidently of importance and denotes the enormous pressure of -the mystery; but, if there were only half a dozen genuine cases—and Dr. -Maxwell’s, Professor Flournoy’s, Mrs. Verrall’s, the Marmontel, Jones -and Hamilton cases and some others are undoubtedly genuine—they would be -enough to show that, under the erroneous idea which we form of the past -and the present, a new verity is living and moving, eager to come to -light. - -The efforts of that verity, I need hardly say, display a very different -sort of force after we have actually and attentively read those hundreds -of extraordinary stories which, without appearing to do so, strike to -the very roots of history. We soon lose all inclination to doubt. We -penetrate into another world and come to a stop all out of countenance. -We no longer know where we stand; before and after overlap and mingle. -We no longer distinguish the insidious and factitious but indispensable -line which separates the years that have gone by from the years that -are to come. We clutch at the hours and days of the past and present to -reassure ourselves, to fasten on to some certainty, to convince ourselves -that we are still in our right place in this life where that which is -not yet seems as substantial, as real, as positive, as powerful as that -which is no more. We discover with uneasiness that time, on which we -based our whole existence, itself no longer exists. It is no longer the -swiftest of our gods, known to us only by its flight across all things; -it alters its position no more than space, of which it is doubtless but -the incomprehensible reflex. It reigns in the centre of every event; and -every event is fixed in its centre; and all that comes and all that goes -passes from end to end of our little life without moving by a hair’s -breadth around its motionless pivot. It is entitled to but one of the -thousand names which we have been wont to lavish upon its power, a power -that seemed to us manifold and innumerable: “yesterday,” “recently,” -“formerly,” “erewhile,” “after,” “before,” “to-morrow,” “soon,” “never,” -“later” fall like childish masks, whereas “to-day” and “always” -completely cover with their united shadows the idea which we form in the -end of a duration which has no subdivisions, no breaks and no stages, but -is pulseless, motionless and boundless. - - -11 - -Many are the theories which men have imagined in their attempts to -explain the working of the strange phenomenon; and many others might be -imagined. - -As we have seen, self-suggestion and telepathy explain certain cases -which concern events already in existence but still latent and perceived -before the knowledge of them can reach us by the normal process of the -senses or the intelligence. But, even by extending these two theories -to their uttermost point and positively abusing their accommodating -elasticity, we do not succeed in illumining by their aid more than -a rather restricted portion of the vast undiscovered land. We must -therefore look for something else. - -The first theory which suggests itself and which on the surface seems -rather attractive is that of spiritualism, which may be extended until -it is scarcely distinguishable from the theosophical theory and other -religious suppositions. It assumes the survival of spirits, the existence -of discarnate or other superior and more mysterious entities which -surround us, interest themselves in our fate, guide our thoughts and -our actions and, above all, know the future. It is, as we recognize -when we speak of ghosts and haunted houses, a very acceptable theory; -and any one to whom it appeals can adopt it without doing violence to -his intelligence. But we must confess that it seems less necessary and -perhaps even less clearly proved in this region than in that. It starts -by begging the question: without the intervention of discarnate beings, -the spiritualists tell us, it is impossible to explain the majority of -the premonitory phenomena; therefore we must admit the existence of -these discarnate beings. Let us grant it for the moment, for to beg -the question, which is merely an indefensible trick of the superficial -logic of our brain, does not necessarily condemn a theory and neither -takes away from nor adds to the reality of things. Besides, as we shall -insist later, the intervention or non-intervention of the spirits is -not the point at issue; and the crux of the mystery does not lie there. -What must interest us is far less the paths or intermediaries by which -prophetic warnings reach us than the actual existence of the future in -the present. It is true—to do complete justice to neospiritualism—that -its position offers certain advantages from the point of view of the -almost inconceivable problem of the preexistence of the future. It can -evade or divert some of the consequences of that problem. The spirits, it -declares, do not necessarily see the future as a whole, as a total past -or present, motionless and immovable, but they know infinitely better -than we do the numberless causes that determine any agent, so that, -finding themselves at the luminous source of those causes, they have no -difficulty in foreseeing their effects. They are, with respect to the -incidents still in process of formation, in the position of an astronomer -who foretells, within a second, all the phases of an eclipse in which a -savage sees nothing but an unprecedented catastrophe which he attributes -to the anger of his idols of straw or clay. It is indeed possible that -this acquaintance with a greater number of causes explains certain -predictions; but there are plenty of others which presume a knowledge of -so many causes, causes so remote and so profound, that this knowledge -is hardly to be distinguished from a knowledge of the future pure and -simple. In any case, beyond certain limits, the preexistence of causes -seems no clearer than that of effects. Nevertheless it must be admitted -that the spiritualists gain a slight advantage here. - -They believe that they gain another when they say or might say that it -is still possible that the spirits stimulate us to realize the events -which they foretell without themselves clearly perceiving them in the -future. After announcing, for instance, that on a certain day we shall -go to a certain place and do a certain thing, they urge us irresistibly -to proceed to the spot named and there to perform the act prophesied. -But this theory, like those of self-suggestion and telepathy, would -explain only a few phenomena and would leave in obscurity all those -cases, infinitely more numerous because they make up almost the whole of -our future, in which either chance intervenes or some event in no way -dependent upon our will or the spirit’s, unless indeed we suppose that -the latter possesses an omniscience and an omnipotence which takes us -back to the original mysteries of the problem. - -Besides, in the gloomy regions of precognition, it is almost always a -matter of anticipating a misfortune and very rarely, if ever, of meeting -with a pleasure or a joy. We should therefore have to admit that the -spirits which drag me to the fatal place and compel me to do the act that -will have tragic consequences are deliberately hostile to me and find -diversion only in the spectacle of my suffering. What could those spirits -be, from what evil world would they arise and how should we explain why -our brothers and friends of yesterday, after passing through the august -and peace-bestowing gates of death, suddenly become transformed into -crafty and malevolent demons? Can the great spiritual kingdom, in which -all passions born of the flesh should be stilled, be but a dismal abode -of hatred, spite and envy? It will perhaps be said that they lead us -into misfortune in order to purify us; but this brings us to religious -theories which it is not our intention to examine. - - -12 - -The only attempt at an explanation that can hold its own with -spiritualism has recourse once again to the mysterious powers of our -subconsciousness. We must needs recognize that, if the future exists -to-day, already such as it will be when it becomes for us the present and -the past, the intervention of discarnate minds or of any other spiritual -entity adrift from another sphere is of little avail. We can picture -an infinite spirit indifferently contemplating the past and future in -their coexistence; we can imagine a whole hierarchy of intermediate -intelligences taking a more or less extensive part in the contemplation -and transmitting it to our subconsciousness. But all this is practically -nothing more than inconsistent speculation and ingenious dreaming in the -dark; in any case, it is adventitious, secondary and provisional. Let us -keep to the facts as we see them: an unknown faculty, buried deep in our -being and generally inactive, perceives, on rare occasions, events that -have not yet taken place. We possess but one certainty on this subject, -namely, that the phenomenon actually occurs within ourselves; it is -therefore within ourselves that we must first study it, without burdening -ourselves with suppositions which remove it from its centre and simply -shift the mystery. The incomprehensible mystery is the preexistence of -the future; once we admit this—and it seems very difficult to deny—there -is no reason to attribute to imaginary intermediaries rather than to -ourselves the faculty of descrying certain fragments of that future. We -see, in regard to most of the mediumistic manifestations, that we possess -within ourselves all the unusual forces with which the spiritualists -endow discarnate spirits; and why should it be otherwise as concerns the -powers of divination? The explanation taken from the subconsciousness -is the most direct, the simplest, the nearest, whereas the other is -endlessly circuitous, complicated and distant. Until the spirits testify -to their existence in an unanswerable fashion, there is no advantage in -seeking in the grave for the solution of a riddle that appears indeed to -lie at the roots of our own life. - - -13 - -It is true that this explanation does not explain much; but the -others are just as ineffectual and are open to the same objections. -These objections are many and various; and it is easier to raise them -than to reply to them. For instance, we can ask ourselves why the -subconsciousness or the spirits, seeing that they read the future and -are able to announce an impending calamity, hardly ever give us the one -useful and definite indication that would allow us to avoid it. What can -be the childish or mysterious reason of this strange reticence? In many -cases it is almost criminal; for instance, in a case related by Professor -Hyslop[20] we see the foreboding of the greatest misfortune than can -befall a mother germinating, growing, sending out shoots, developing, -like some gluttonous and deadly plant, to stop short on the verge of the -last warning, the one detail, insignificant in itself but indispensable, -which would have saved the child. It is the case of a woman who begins -by experiencing a vague but powerful impression that a grievous “burden” -is going to fall upon her family. Next month, this premonitory feeling -repeats itself very frequently, becomes more intense and ends by -concentrating itself upon the poor woman’s little daughter. Each time -that she is planning something for the child’s future, she hears a voice -saying: - -“She’ll never need it.” - -A week before the catastrophe, a violent smell of fire fills the house. -From that time the mother begins to be careful about matches, seeing -that they are in safe places and out of reach. She looks all over the -house for them and feels a strong impulse to burn all matches of the kind -easily lighted. About an hour before the fatal disaster, she reaches for -a box to destroy it; but she says to herself that her eldest boy is gone -out, thinks that she may need the matches to light the gas-stove and -decides to destroy them as soon as he comes back. She takes the child -up to its crib for its morning sleep and, as she is putting it into the -cradle, she hears the usual mysterious voice whisper in her ear: - -“Turn the mattress.” - -But, being in a great hurry, she simply says that she will turn the -mattress after the child has taken its nap. She then goes downstairs to -work. After a while, she hears the child cry and, hurrying up to the -room, finds the crib and its bedding on fire and the child so badly burnt -that it dies in three hours. - - -14 - -Before going further and theorizing about this case, let us once more -state the matter precisely. I know that the reader may straightway and -quite legitimately deny the value of anecdotes of this kind. He will say -that we have to do with a neurotic who has drawn upon her imagination for -all the elements that give a dramatic setting to the story and surround -with a halo of mystery a sad but commonplace domestic accident. This is -quite possible; and it is perfectly allowable to dismiss the case. But it -is none the less true that, by thus deliberately rejecting everything -that does not bear the stamp of mathematical or judicial certainty, we -risk losing, as we go along, most of the opportunities or clues which the -great riddle of this world offers us in its moments of inattention or -graciousness. At the beginning of an enquiry we must know how to content -ourselves with little. For the incident in question to be convincing, -previous evidence in writing, more or less official statements, would -be required, whereas we have only the declarations of the husband, a -neighbour and a sister. This is insufficient, I agree; but we must at -the same time confess that the circumstances are hardly favourable to -obtaining the proofs which we demand. Those who receive warnings of this -kind either believe in them or do not believe in them. If they believe -in them, it is quite natural that they should not think first of all of -the scientific interest of their trouble, or of putting down in writing -and thus authenticating its premonitory symptoms and gradual evolution. -If they do not believe in them, it is no less natural that they should -not proceed to speak or take notice of inanities of which they do not -recognize the value until after they have lost the opportunity of -supplying convincing proofs of them. Also, do not forget that the little -story in question is selected from among a hundred others, which in their -turn are equally indecisive, but which, repeating the same facts and the -same tendencies with a strange persistency, end by weakening the most -inveterate distrust. - - -15 - -Having said this much, in order to conciliate or part company with -those who have no intention of leaving the _terra firma_ of science, -let us return to the case before us, which is all the more disquieting -inasmuch as we may consider it a sort of prototype of the tragic and -almost diabolical reticence which we find in most premonitions. It is -probable that under the mattress there was a stray match which the child -discovered and struck; this is the only possible explanation of the -catastrophe, for there was no fire burning on that floor of the house. -If the mother had turned the mattress, she would have seen the match; -and, on the other hand, she would certainly have turned the mattress -if she had been told that there was a match underneath it. Why did the -voice that urged her to perform the necessary action not add the one -word that was capable of ensuring that action? The problem moreover is -equally perturbing and perhaps equally insoluble whether it concern our -own subconscious faculties, or spirits, or strange intelligences. Those -who give these warnings must know that they will be useless, because -they manifestly foresee the event as a whole; but they must also know -that one last word, which they do not pronounce, would be enough to -prevent the misfortune that is already consummated in their prevision. -They know it so well that they bring this word to the very edge of the -abyss, hold it suspended there, almost let it fall and recapture it -suddenly at the moment when its weight would have caused happiness and -life to rise once more to the surface of the mighty gulf. What then is -this mystery? Is it incapacity or hostility? If they are incapable, what -is the unexpected and sovran force that interposes between them and us? -And, if they are hostile, on what, on whom are they revenging themselves? -What can be the secret of those inhuman games, of those uncanny and cruel -diversions on the most slippery and dangerous peaks of fate? Why warn, -if they know that the warning will be in vain? Of whom are they making -sport? Is there really an inflexible fatality by virtue of which that -which has to be accomplished is accomplished from all eternity? But then -why not respect silence, since all speech is useless? Or do they, in -spite of all, perceive a gleam, a crevice in the inexorable wall? What -hope do they find in it? Have they not seen more clearly than ourselves -that no deliverance can come through that crevice? One could understand -this fluttering and wavering, all these efforts of theirs, if they did -not know; but here it is proved that they know everything, since they -foretell exactly that which they might prevent. If we press them with -questions, they answer that there is nothing to be done, that no human -power could avert or thwart the issue. Are they mad, bored, irritable -or accessory to a hideous pleasantry? Does our fate depend on the -happy solution of some petty enigma or childish conundrum, even as our -salvation, in most of the so-called revealed religions, is settled by a -blind and stupid cast of the die? Is all the liberty that we are granted -reduced to the reading of a more or less ingenious riddle? Can the great -soul of the universe be the soul of a great baby? - - -16 - -But, rather than pursue this subject, let us be just and admit that -there is perhaps no way out of the maze and that our reproaches are as -incomprehensible as the conduct of the spirits. Indeed, what would you -have them do in the circle in which our logic imprisons them? Either they -foretell us a calamity which their predictions cannot avert, in which -case there is no use in foretelling it, or, if they announce it to us and -at the same time give us the means to prevent it, they do not really see -the future and are foretelling nothing, since the calamity is not to take -place, with the result that their action seems equally absurd in both -cases. - -It is obvious: to whichever side we turn, we find nothing but the -incomprehensible. On the one hand, the preestablished, unshakable, -unalterable future which we have called destiny, fatality or what you -will, which suppresses man’s entire independence and liberty of action -and which is the most inconceivable and the dreariest of mysteries; on -the other, intelligences apparently superior to our own, since they know -what we do not, which, while aware that their intervention is always -useless and very often cruel, nevertheless come harassing us with their -sinister and ridiculous predictions. Must we resign ourselves once more -to living with our eyes shut and our reason drowned in the boundless -ocean of darkness; and is there no outlet? - - -17 - -For the moment we will not linger in the dark regions of fatality, -which is the supreme mystery, the desolation of every effort and every -thought of man. What is clearest amid this incomprehensibility is that -the spiritualistic theory, at first sight the most seductive, declares -itself, on examination, the most difficult to justify. We will also -once more put aside the theosophical theory, or any other which assumes -a divine intention and which might, to a certain extent, explain the -hesitations and anguish of the prophetic warnings, at the cost, however, -of other puzzles, a thousand times as hard to solve, which nothing -authorizes us to substitute for the actual puzzle, formless and infinite, -presented to our uninitiated vision. - -When all is said, it is perhaps only in the theory which attributes -those premonitions to our subconsciousness that we are able to find, if -not a justification, at least a sort of explanation of that formidable -reticence. They accord fairly well with the strange, inconsistent, -whimsical and disconcerting character of the unknown entity within us -that seems to live on nothing but nondescript fare borrowed from worlds -to which our intelligence as yet has no access. It lives under our -reason, in a sort of invisible and perhaps eternal palace, like a casual, -unknown guest, dropped from another planet, whose interests, ideas, -habits, passions have naught in common with ours. If it seems to have -notions on the hereafter that are infinitely wider and more precise than -those which we possess, it has only very vague notions on the practical -needs of our existence. It ignores us for years, absorbed no doubt with -the numberless relations which it maintains with all the mysteries of -the universe; and, when suddenly it remembers us, thinking apparently to -please us, it makes an enormous, miraculous, but at the same time clumsy -and superfluous movement, which upsets all that we believed we knew, -without teaching us anything. Is it making fun of us, is it jesting, is -it amusing itself, is it facetious, teasing, arch, or simply sleepy, -bewildered, inconsistent, absent-minded? In any case, it is rather -remarkable that it evidently dislikes to make itself useful. It readily -performs the most glamorous feats of sleight-of-hand, provided that we -can derive no profit from them. It lifts tables, moves the heaviest -articles, produces flowers and hair, sets strings vibrating, gives life -to inanimate objects and passes through solid matter, conjures up ghosts, -subjugates time and space, creates light; but all, it seems, on one -condition, that its performances should be without rhyme or reason and -keep to the province of supernaturally vain and puerile recreations. The -case of the divining-rod is almost the only one in which it lends us any -regular assistance, this being a sort of game, of no great importance, -in which it appears to take pleasure. Sometimes, to say all that can be -said, it consents to cure certain ailments, cleanses an ulcer, closes a -wound, heals a lung, strengthens or unstiffens an arm or leg, or even -sets bones, but always as it were by accident, without reason, method or -object, in a deceitful, illogical and preposterous fashion. One would -set it down as a spoilt child that has been allowed to lay hands on the -most tremendous secrets of heaven and earth; it has no suspicion of -their power, jumbles them all up together and turns them into paltry, -inoffensive toys. It knows everything, perhaps, but is ignorant of the -uses of its knowledge. It has its arms laden with treasures which it -scatters in the wrong manner and at the wrong time, giving bread to -the thirsty and water to the hungry, overloading those who refuse and -stripping the suppliant bare, pursuing those who flee from it and fleeing -from those who pursue it. Lastly, even at its best moments, it behaves -as though the fate of the being in whose depths it dwells interested -it hardly at all, as though it had but an insignificant share in his -misfortunes, feeling assured, one might almost think, of an independent -and endless existence. - -It is not surprising therefore, when we know its habits, that its -communications on the subject of the future should be as fantastic as -the other manifestations of its knowledge or its power. Let us add, -to be quite fair, that, in those warnings which we would wish to see -efficacious, it stumbles against the same difficulties as the spirits -or other alien intelligences uselessly foretelling the event which they -cannot prevent, or annihilating the event by the very fact of foretelling -it. - - -18 - -And now, to end the question, is this unknown guest of ours alone -responsible? Does it explain itself badly or do we not understand it? -When we look into the matter closely, there is, under those anomalous and -confused manifestations, in spite of efforts which we feel to be enormous -and persevering, a sort of incapacity for self-expression and action -which is bound to attract our attention. Is our conscious and individual -life separated by impenetrable worlds from our subconscious and probably -universal life? Does our unknown guest speak an unknown language and do -the words which it speaks and which we think that we understand disclose -its thought? Is every direct road pitilessly barred and is there nothing -left to it but narrow, closed paths, in which the best of what it had -to reveal to us is lost? Is this the reason why it seeks those odd, -childish, roundabout ways of automatic writing, cross-correspondence, -symbolic premonition and all the rest? Yet, in the typical case which we -have quoted, it seems to speak quite easily and plainly when it says to -the mother: - -“Turn the mattress.” - -If it can utter this sentence, why should it find it difficult or -impossible to add: - -“You will there find the matches that will set fire to the curtains.” - -What forbids it to do so and closes its mouth at the decisive moment? We -relapse into the everlasting question: if it cannot complete the second -sentence because it would be destroying in the womb the very event which -it is foretelling, why does it utter the first? - - -19 - -But it is well, in spite of everything, to seek an explanation of the -inexplicable; it is by attacking it on every side, at all hazards, -that we cherish the hope of overcoming it; and we may therefore say to -ourselves that our subconsciousness, when it warns us of a calamity that -is about to befall us, knowing all the future as it does, necessarily -knows that the calamity is already accomplished. As our conscious and -unconscious lives blend in it, it distresses itself and flutters around -our overconfident ignorance. It tries to inform us, through nervousness, -through pity, so as to mitigate the lightning cruelty of the blow. It -speaks all the words that can prepare us for its coming, define it -and identify it; but it is unable to say those which would prevent it -from coming, seeing that it has come, that it is already present and -perhaps past, manifest, ineffaceable, on another plane than that on -which we live, the only plane which we are capable of perceiving. It -finds itself, in a word, in the position of the man who, in the midst of -peaceful, happy and unsuspecting folk, alone knows some bad news. He is -neither able nor willing to announce it nor yet to hide it completely. -He hesitates, delays, makes more or less transparent allusions, but -refrains from saying the last word that would, so to speak, let loose the -catastrophe in the hearts of the people around him, for to those who do -not know of it the catastrophe is still as though it were not there. Our -subconsciousness, in that instance, would act towards the future as we -act towards the past, the two conditions being identical, so much so that -it often confuses them, as we can see more particularly in the celebrated -Marmontel case, where it evidently blunders and reports as accomplished -an incident that will not take place until several months later. It is -of course impossible for us, at the stage which we have reached, to -understand this confusion or this coexistence of the past, the present -and the future; but that is no reason for denying it; on the contrary, -what man understands least is probably that which most nearly approaches -the truth. - - -20 - -Lastly, to complicate the question, it may be very justly objected that, -though premonitions in general are useless and appear systematically -to withhold the only indispensable and decisive words, there are, -nevertheless, some that often seem to save those who obey them. These, -it is true, are rarer than the first, but still they include a certain -number that are well-authenticated. It remains to be seen how far they -imply a knowledge of the future. - -Here, for instance, is a traveller who, arriving at night in a small -unknown town and walking along the ill-lighted dock in the direction -of an hotel of which he roughly knows the position, at a given moment -feels an irresistible impulse to turn and go the other way. He instantly -obeys, though his reason protests and “berates him for a fool” in taking -a roundabout way to his destination. The next day he discovers that, if -he had gone a few feet farther, he would certainly have slipped into the -river; and, as he was but a feeble swimmer, he would just as certainly, -being alone and unaided in the extreme darkness, have been drowned.[21] - -But is this a prevision of an event? No, for no event is to take place. -There is simply an abnormal perception of the proximity of some unknown -water and consequently of an imminent danger, an unexplained but fairly -frequent subliminal sensitiveness. In a word, the problem of the future -is not raised in this case, nor in any of the numerous cases that -resemble it. - -Here is another which evidently belongs to the same class, though at -first sight it seems to postulate the preexistence of a fatal event and -a vision of the future corresponding exactly with a vision of the past. -A traveller in South America is descending a river in a canoe; the party -are just about to run close to a promontory when a sort of mysterious -voice, which he has already heard at different momentous times of his -life, imperiously orders him immediately to cross the river and gain the -other shore as quickly as possible. This appears so absurd that he is -obliged to threaten the Indians with death to force them to take this -course. They have scarcely crossed more than half the river when the -promontory falls at the very place where they meant to round it.[22] - -The perception of imminent danger is here, I admit, even more abnormal -than in the previous example, but it comes under the same heading. It is -a phenomenon of subliminal hypersensitiveness observed more than once, a -sort of premonition induced by subconscious perceptions, which has been -christened by the barbarous name of “cryptaesthesia.” But the interval -between the moment when the peril is signalled and that at which it is -consummated is too short for those questions which relate to a knowledge -or a preexistence of the future to arise in this instance. - -The case is almost the same with the adventure of an American dentist, -very carefully investigated by Dr. Hodgson. The dentist was bending over -a bench on which was a little copper in which he was vulcanizing some -rubber, when he heard a voice calling, in a quick and imperative manner, -these words: - -“Run to the window, quick! Run to the window, quick!” - -He at once ran to the window and looked out to the street below, when -suddenly he heard a tremendous report and, looking round, saw that the -copper had exploded, destroying a great part of the workroom.[23] - -Here again, a subconscious cautiousness was probably aroused by certain -indications imperceptible to our ordinary senses. It is even possible -that there exists between things and ourselves a sort of sympathy or -subliminal communion which makes us experience the trials and emotions of -matter that has reached the limits of its existence, unless, as is more -likely, there is merely a simple coincidence between the chance idea of -a possible explosion and its realization. - -A last and rather more complicated case is that of Jean Dupré, the -sculptor, who was driving alone with his wife along a mountain road, -skirting a perpendicular cliff. Suddenly they both heard a voice that -seemed to come from the mountain crying: - -‘Stop!’ - -They turned round, and saw nobody and continued their road. But the cries -were repeated again and again, without anything to reveal the presence of -a human being amid the solitude. At last the sculptor alighted and saw -that the left wheel of the carriage, which was grazing the edge of the -precipice, had lost its linch-pin and was on the point of leaving the -axle-tree, which would almost inevitably have hurled the carriage into -the abyss. - -Need we, even here, relinquish the theory of subconscious perceptions? -Do we know and can the author of the anecdote, whose good faith is not -in question, tell us that certain unperceived circumstances, such as -the grating of the wheel or the swaying of the carriage, did not give -him the first alarm? After all, we know how easily stories of this -kind involuntarily take a dramatic turn even at the actual moment and -especially afterwards. - - -21 - -These examples—and there are many more of a similar kind—are enough, I -think, to illustrate this class of premonitions. The problem in these -cases is simpler than when it relates to fruitless warnings; at least -it is simpler so long as we do not bring into discussion the question -of spirits, of unknown intelligences, or of an actual knowledge of the -future; otherwise the same difficulty reappears and the warning, which -this time seems efficacious, is in reality just as vain. In fact, the -mysterious entity which knows that the traveller will go to the water’s -edge, that the wheel will be on the point of leaving the axle, that -the copper will explode, or that the promontory will fall at a precise -moment, must at the same time know that the traveller will not take the -last fatal step, that the carriage will not be overturned, that the -copper will not hurt anybody and that the canoe will pull away from the -promontory. It is inadmissible that, seeing one thing, it will not see -the other, since everything happens at the same point, in the course of -the same second. Can we say that, if it had not given warning, the little -saving movement would not have been executed? How can we imagine a future -which, at one and the same time, has parts that are steadfast and others -that are not? If it is foreseen that the promontory will fall and that -the traveller will escape, thanks to the supernatural warning, it is -necessarily foreseen that the warning will be given; and, if so, what is -the point of this futile comedy? I see no reasonable explanation of it -in the spiritist or spiritualistic theory, which postulates a complete -knowledge of the future, at least at a settled point and moment. On the -other hand, if we adhere to the theory of a subliminal consciousness, -we find there an explanation which is quite worthy of acceptation. This -subliminal consciousness, though, in the majority of cases, it has no -clear and comprehensive vision of the immediate future, can nevertheless -possess an intuition of imminent danger, thanks to indications that -escape our ordinary perception. It can also have a partial, intermittent -and so to speak flickering vision of the future event and, if doubtful, -can risk giving an incoherent warning, which, for that matter, will -change nothing in that which already is. - - -22 - -In conclusion, let us state once more that fruitful premonitions -necessarily annihilate events in the bud and consequently work their own -destruction, so that any control becomes impossible. They would have an -existence only if they prophesied a general event which the subject would -not escape but for the warning. If they had said to any one intending to -go to Messina two or three months before the catastrophe, “Don’t go, for -the town will be destroyed before the month is out,” we should have an -excellent example. But it is a remarkable thing that genuine premonitions -of this kind are very rare and nearly always rather indefinite in regard -to events of a general order. In M. Bozzano’s excellent collection, -which is a sort of compendium of premonitory phenomena, the only pretty -clear cases are nos. clv. and clviii., both of which are taken from -the _Journal of the S.P.R._ In the first,[24] a mother sent a servant -to bring home her little daughter, who had already left the house -with the intention of going through the “railway garden,” a strip of -ground between the sea-wall and the railway-embankment, in order to sit -on the great stones by the seaside and see the trains pass by. A few -minutes after the little girl’s departure, the mother had distinctly and -repeatedly heard a voice within her say: - -“Send for her back, or something dreadful will happen to her.” - -Now, soon after, a train ran off the line and the engine and tender fell, -breaking through the protecting wall and crashing down on the very stones -where the child was accustomed to sit. - -In the other case,[25] into which Professor W. F. Barrett made a special -enquiry, Captain MacGowan was in Brooklyn with his two boys, then on -their holidays. He promised the boys that he would take them to the -theatre and booked seats on the previous day; but on the day of the -proposed visit he heard a voice within him constantly saying: - -“Do not go to the theatre; take the boys back to school.” - -He hesitated, gave up his plan and resumed it again. But the words kept -repeating themselves and impressing themselves upon him; and, in the end, -he definitely decided not to go, much to the two boys’ disgust. That -night, the theatre was destroyed by fire, with a loss of three hundred -lives. - -We may add to this the prevision of the Battle of Borodino, to which I -have already alluded. I will give the story in fuller detail, as told in -the journal of Stephen Grellet the Quaker. - -About three months before the French army entered Russia, the wife of -General Toutschkoff dreamt that she was at an inn in a town unknown to -her and that her father came into her room, holding her only son by the -hand, and said to her, in a pitiful tone: - -“Your happiness is at an end. He”—meaning Countess Toutschkoff’s -husband—“has fallen. He has fallen at Borodino.” - -The dream was repeated a second and a third time. Her anguish of mind was -such that she woke her husband and asked him: - -“Where is Borodino?” - -They looked for the name on the map and did not find it. - -Before the French armies reached Moscow, Count Toutschkoff was placed at -the head of the army of reserve; and one morning her father, holding her -son by the hand, entered her room at the inn where she was staying. In -great distress, as she had beheld him in her dream, he cried out: - -“He has fallen. He has fallen at Borodino.” - -Then she saw herself in the very same room and through the windows beheld -the very same objects that she had seen in her dreams. Her husband -was one of the many who perished in the battle fought near the River -Borodino, from which an obscure village takes its name.[26] - - -23 - -This is evidently a very rare and perhaps solitary example of a -long-dated prediction of a great historic event which nobody could -foresee. It stirs more deeply than any other the enormous problems of -fatality, free-will and responsibility. But has it been attested with -sufficient rigour for us to rely upon it? That I cannot say. In any case, -it has not been sifted by the S.P.R. Next, from the special point of view -that interests us for the moment, we are unable to declare that this -premonition had any chance of being of avail and preventing the general -from going to Borodino. It is highly probable that he did not know where -he was going or where he was; besides, the irresistible machinery of -war held him fast and it was not his part to disengage his destiny. The -premonition therefore could only have been given because it was certain -not to be obeyed. - -As for the two previous cases, nos. clv. and clviii., we must here -again remark the usual strange reservations and observe how difficult -it is to explain these premonitions save by attributing them to our -subconsciousness. The main, unavoidable event is not precisely stated; -but a subordinate consequence seems to be averted, as though to make us -believe in some definite power of free-will. Nevertheless, the mysterious -entity that foresaw the catastrophe must also have foreseen that nothing -would happen to the person whom it was warning; and this brings us back -to the useless farce of which we spoke above. Whereas, with the theory of -a subconscious self, the latter may have—as in the case of the traveller, -the promontory, the copper or the carriage—not this time by inferences -or indications that escape our perception, but by other unknown means, a -vague presentiment of an impending peril, or, as I have already said, a -partial, intermittent and unsettled vision of the future event, and, in -its doubt, may utter its cry of alarm. - -Whereupon let us recognize that it is almost forbidden to human reason to -stray in these regions; and that the part of a prophet is, next to that -of a commentator of prophecies, one of the most difficult and thankless -that a man can attempt to sustain on the world’s stage. - - -24 - -I am not sure if it is really necessary, before closing this chapter, -to follow in the wake of many others and broach the problem of the -preexistence of the future, which includes those of fatality, of -free-will, of time and of space, that is to say, all the points that -touch the essential sources of the great mystery of the universe. The -theologians and the metaphysicians have tackled these problems from every -side without giving us the least hope of solving them. Among those which -life sets us, there is none to which our brain seems more definitely -and strictly closed; and they remain, if not as unimaginable, at least -as incomprehensible as on the day when they were first perceived. What -corresponds, outside us, with what we call time and space? We know -nothing about it; and Kant, speaking in the name of the “apriorists,” -who hold that the idea of time is innate in us, does not teach us much -when he tells us that time, like space, is an _a priori_ form of our -sensibility, that is to say, an intuition preceding experience, even as -Guyau, among the “empiricists,” who consider that this idea is acquired -only by experience, does not enlighten us any more by declaring that -this same time is the abstract formula of the changes in the universe. -Whether space, as Leibnitz maintains, be an order of coexistence and -time an order of sequences, whether it be by space that we succeed -in representing time or whether time be an essential form of any -representation, whether time be the father of space or space the father -of time, one thing is certain, which is that the efforts of the Kantian -or neo-Kantian apriorists and of the pure empiricists and the idealistic -empiricists all end in the same darkness; that all the philosophers -who have grappled with the formidable dual problem, among whom one may -mention indiscriminately the names of the greatest thinkers of yesterday -and to-day—Herbert Spencer, Helmholtz, Renouvier, James Sully, Stumpf, -James Ward, William James, Stuart Mill, Ribot, Fouillée, Guyau, Bain, -Lechalas, Balmès, Dunan and endless others—have been unable to tame it; -and that, however much their theories may contradict one another, they -are all equally defensible and alike struggle vainly in the darkness -against shadows that are not of our world. - - -25 - -To catch a glimpse of this strange problem of the preexistence of the -future, as it shows itself to each of us, let us essay more humbly to -translate it into tangible images, to place it as it were upon the stage. -I am writing these lines sitting on a stone, in the shade of some tall -beeches that overlook a little Norman village. It is one of those lovely -summer days when the sweetness of life is almost visible in the azure -vase of earth and sky. In the distance stretches the immense, fertile -valley of the Seine, with its green meadows planted with restful trees, -between which the river flows like a long path of gladness leading to -the misty hills of the estuary. I am looking down on the village-square, -with its ring of young lime-trees. A procession leaves the church and, -amid prayers and chanting, they carry the statue of the Virgin around -the sacred pile. I am conscious of all the details of the ceremony: the -sly old curé perfunctorily bearing a small reliquary; four choirmen -opening their mouths to bawl forth vacantly the Latin words which convey -nothing to them; two mischievous serving-boys in frayed cassocks; a score -of little girls, young girls and old maids in white, all starched and -flounced, followed by six or seven village notables in baggy frockcoats. -The pageant disappears behind the trees, comes into sight again at the -bend of the road and hurries back into the church. The clock in the -steeple strikes five, as though to ring down the curtain and mark in -the infinite history of events which none will recollect the conclusion -of a spectacle which never again, until the end of the world and of the -universe of worlds, will be just what it was during those seconds when it -beguiled my wandering eyes. - -For in vain will they repeat the procession next year and every year -after: never again will it be the same. Not only will several of the -actors probably have disappeared, but all those who resume their old -places in the ranks will have undergone the thousand little visible and -invisible changes wrought by the passing days and weeks. In a word, this -insignificant moment is unique, irrecoverable, inimitable, as are all -the moments in the existence of all things; and this little picture, -enduring for a few seconds suspended in boundless duration, has lapsed -into eternity, where henceforth it will remain in its entirety to the end -of time, so much so that, if a man could one day recapture in the past, -among what some one has called the “astral negatives,” the image of what -it was, he would find it intact, unchanged, ineffaceable and undeniable. - - -26 - -It is not difficult for us to conceive that one can thus go back and see -again the astral negative of an event that is no more; and retrospective -clairvoyance appears to us a wonderful but not an impossible thing. -It astonishes but does not stagger our reason. But, when it becomes a -question of discovering the same picture in the future, the boldest -imagination flounders at the first step. How are we to admit that there -exists somewhere a representation or reproduction of that which has not -yet existed? Nevertheless, some of the incidents which we have just been -considering seem to prove in an almost conclusive manner not only that -such representations are possible, but that we may arrive at them more -frequently, not to say more conveniently, than at those of the past. Now, -once this representation preexists, as we are obliged to admit in the -case of a certain number of premonitions, the riddle remains the same -whether the preexistence be one of a few hours, a few years or several -centuries. It is therefore possible—for, in these matters, we must go -straight to extremes or else leave them alone—it is therefore possible -that a seer mightier than any of to-day, some god, demigod or demon, some -unknown, universal or vagrant intelligence, saw that procession a million -years ago, at a time when nothing existed of that which composes and -surrounds it and when the very earth on which it moves had not yet risen -from the ocean depths. And other seers, as mighty as the first, who from -age to age contemplated the same spot and the same moment, would always -have perceived, through the vicissitudes and upheavals of seas, shores -and forests, the same procession going round the same little church that -still lay slumbering in the oceanic ooze and made up of the same persons -sprung from a race that was perhaps not yet represented on the earth. - - -27 - -It is obviously difficult for us to understand that the future can thus -precede chaos, that the present is at the same time the future and the -past, or that that which is not yet exists already at the same time -at which it is no more. But, on the other hand, it is just as hard to -conceive that the future does not preexist, that there is nothing before -the present and that everything is only present or past. It is very -probable that, to a more universal intelligence than ours, everything is -but an eternal present, an immense _punctum stans_, as the metaphysicians -say, in which all the events are on one plane; but it is no less probable -that we ourselves, so long as we are men, in order to understand anything -of this eternal present, will always be obliged to divide it into -three parts. Thus caught between two mysteries equally baffling to our -intelligence, whether we deny or admit the preexistence of the future, we -are really only wrangling over words: in the one case, we give the name -of “present,” from the point of view of a perfect intelligence, to that -which to us is the future; in the other, we give the name of “future” -to that which, from the point of view of a perfect intelligence, is the -present. But, after all, it is incontestable in both cases that, at least -from our point of view, the future preexists, since preexistence is the -only name by which we can describe and the only form under which we can -conceive that which we do not yet see in the present. - - -28 - -Attempts have been made to shed light on the riddle by transferring -it to space. It is true that it there loses the greater part of its -obscurity; but this apparently is because, in changing its environment, -it has completely changed its nature and no longer bears any relation to -what it was when it was placed in time. We are told, for instance, that -innumerable cities distributed over the surface of the earth are to us -as if they were not, so long as we have not seen them, and only begin to -exist on the day when we visit them. That is true; but space, outside -all metaphysical speculations, has realities for us which time does not -possess. Space, although very mysterious and incomprehensible once we -pass certain limits, is nevertheless not, like time, incomprehensible -and illusory in all its parts. We are certainly quite able to conceive -that those towns which we have never seen and doubtless never will see -indubitably exist, whereas we find it much more difficult to imagine that -the catastrophe which, fifty years hence, will annihilate one of them -already exists as really as the town itself. We are capable of picturing -a spot whence, with keener eyes than those which we boast to-day, we -should see in one glance all the cities of the earth and even those of -other worlds, but it is much less easy for us to imagine a point in the -ages whence we should simultaneously discover the past, the present and -the future, because the past, the present and the future are three orders -of duration which cannot find room at the same time in our intelligence -and which inevitably devour one another. How can we picture to ourselves, -for instance, a point in eternity at which our little procession already -exists, while it is not yet and although it is no more? Add to this the -thought that it is necessary and inevitable, from the millenaries which -had no beginning, that, at a given moment, at a given place, the little -procession should leave the little church in a given manner and that no -known or imaginable will can change anything in it, in the future any -more than in the past; and we begin to understand that there is no hope -of understanding. - - -29 - -We find among the cases collected by M. Bozzano a singular premonition -wherein the unknown factors of space and time are continued in a very -curious fashion. In August 1910, Cavaliere Giovanni de Figueroa, one of -the most famous fencing-masters at Palermo, dreamt that he was in the -country, going along a road white with dust, which brought him to a broad -ploughed field. In the middle of the field stood a rustic building, with -a ground-floor used for store-rooms and cow-sheds and on the right a -rough hut made of branches and a cart with some harness lying in it. - -A peasant wearing dark trousers, with a black felt hat on his head, came -forward to meet him, asked him to follow him and took him round behind -the house. Through a low, narrow door they entered a little stable with a -short, winding stone staircase leading to a loft over the entrance to the -house. A mule fastened to a swinging manger was blocking the bottom step; -and the chevalier had to push it aside before climbing the staircase. -On reaching the loft, he noticed that from the ceiling were suspended -strings of melons, tomatoes, onions and Indian corn. In this room were -two women and a little girl; and through a door leading to another room -he caught sight of an extremely high bed, unlike any that he had ever -seen before. - -Here the dream broke off. It seemed to him so strange that he spoke of it -to several of his friends, whom he mentions by name and who are ready to -confirm his statements. - -On the 12th of October in the same year, in order to support a -fellow-townsman in a duel, he accompanied the seconds, by motor-car, from -Naples to Marano, a place which he had never visited nor even heard of. -As soon as they were some way in the country, he was curiously impressed -by the white and dusty road. The car pulled up at the side of a field -which he at once recognized. They alighted; and he remarked to one of the -seconds: - -“This is not the first time that I have been here. There should be a -house at the end of this path and on the right a hut and a cart with some -harness in it.” - -As a matter of fact, everything was as he described it. An instant later, -at the exact moment foreseen by the dream, the peasant in the dark -trousers and the black felt hat came up and asked him to follow him. -But, instead of walking behind him, the chevalier went in front, for -he already knew the way. He found the stable and, exactly at the place -which it occupied two months before, near its swinging manger, the mule -blocking the way to the staircase. The fencing-master went up the steps -and once more saw the loft, with the ceiling hung with melons, onions and -tomatoes, and, in a corner on the right, the two silent women and the -child, identical with the figures in his dream, while in the next room he -recognized the bed whose uncommon height had so much impressed him. - -It really looks as if the facts themselves, the extramundane realities, -the eternal verities, or whatever we may be pleased to call them, -have tried to show us here that time and space are one and the same -illusion, one and the same convention and have no existence outside our -little day-spanned understanding; that “everywhere” and “always” are -exactly synonymous terms and reign alone as soon as we cross the narrow -boundaries of the obscure consciousness in which we live. We are quite -ready to admit that Cavaliere de Figueroa may have had by clairvoyance -an exact and detailed vision of places which he was not to visit until -later: this is a pretty frequent and almost classical phenomenon, which, -as it affects the realities of space, does not astonish us beyond -measure and, in any case, does not take us out of the world which our -senses perceive. The field, the house, the hut, the loft do not move; -and it is no miracle that they should be found in the same place. But, -suddenly, quitting this domain where all is stationary, the phenomenon -is transferred to time and, in those unknown places, at the foretold -second, brings together all the moving actors of that little drama in -two acts, of which the first was performed some two and a half months -before, in the depths of some mysterious other life where it seemed to be -motionlessly and irrevocably awaiting its terrestrial realization. Any -explanation would but condense this vapour of petty mysteries into a few -drops in the ocean of mysteries. - -Let us note again, in passing, the strange freakishness of these -premonitions. They accumulate the most precise and circumstantial details -as long as the scene remains insignificant, but come to a sudden stop -before the one tragic and interesting scene of the drama: the duel and -its issue. We here once more recognize the inconsistent, impotent, -ironical or humorous habits of our unknown guest. - - -30 - -But we will not prolong these somewhat vain speculations concerning -space and time. We are merely playing with words that represent very -badly ideas which we do not put into form at all. To sum up, while it -is difficult for us to conceive that the future preexists, perhaps it -is even more difficult for us to understand that it does not exist; -moreover, a certain number of facts tend to prove that it is as real and -definite and has, both in time and in eternity, the same permanence and -the same vividness as the past. Now, from the moment that it preexists, -it is not surprising that we should be able to know it; it is even -astonishing, granted that it overhangs us on every side, that we should -not discover it oftener and more easily. It remains to be learnt what -would become of our life if everything were foreseen in it, if we saw -it unfolding beforehand, in its entirety, with its events which would -have to be inevitable, because, if it were possible for us to avoid -them, they would not exist and we could not perceive them. Suppose -that, instead of being abnormal, uncertain, obscure, debatable and very -unusual, prediction became, so to speak, scientific, habitual, clear and -infallible: in a short time, having nothing more to foretell, it would -die of inanition. If, for instance, it was prophesied to me that I must -die in the course of a journey in Italy, I should naturally abandon the -journey; therefore it could not have been predicted to me; and thus all -life would soon be nothing but inaction, pause and abstention, a sort of -vast desert where the embryos of still-born events would be gathered in -heaps and where nothing would grow save perhaps one or two more or less -fortunate enterprises and the little insignificant incidents which no one -would trouble to avoid. But these again are questions to which there is -no solution; and we will not pursue them further. - - - - -IX - -HEROISM - - -1 - -One of the consoling surprises of the war is the unlooked-for and, so -to speak, universal heroism which it has revealed among all the nations -taking part in it. - -We were rather inclined to believe that courage, physical and moral -fortitude, self-denial, stoicism, the renunciation of every sort of -comfort, the faculty of self-sacrifice and the power of facing death -belonged only to the more primitive, the less happy, the less intelligent -nations, to the nations least capable of reasoning, of appreciating -danger and of picturing in their imagination the dreadful abyss that -separates this life from the life unknown. We were even almost persuaded -that war would one day cease for lack of soldiers, that is to say, -of men foolish enough or unhappy enough to risk the only absolute -realities—health, physical comfort, an unimpaired body and, above all, -life, the greatest of earthly possessions—for the sake of an ideal which, -like all ideals, is more or less invisible. - -And this argument seemed the more natural and convincing because, -as existence grew gentler and men’s nerves more sensitive, the means -of destruction by war showed themselves more cruel, ruthless and -irresistible. It seemed more and more probable that no man would ever -again endure the infernal horrors of a battlefield and that, after the -first slaughter, the opposing armies, officers and men alike, all seized -with insuppressible panic, would turn their backs upon one another, in -simultaneous, supernatural affright, and flee from unearthly terrors -exceeding the most monstrous anticipations of those who had let them -loose. - - -2 - -To our great astonishment the very opposite is now proclaimed. - -We realize with amazement that until to-day we had but an incomplete and -inaccurate idea of man’s courage. We looked upon it as an exceptional -virtue and one which is the more admired as being also the rarer the -farther we go back in history. - -Remember, for instance, Homer’s heroes, the ancestors of all the heroes -of our day. Study them closely. These models of antiquity, the first -professors, the first masters of bravery, are not really very brave. -They have a wholesome dread of being hit or wounded and an ingenuous -and manifest fear of death. Their mighty conflicts are declamatory and -decorative but not so very bloody; they inflict more noise than pain -upon their adversaries, they deliver many more words than blows. Their -defensive weapons—and this is characteristic—are greatly superior to -their arms of offence; and death is an unusual, unforeseen and almost -indecorous event which throws the ranks into disorder and most often -puts a stop to the combat or provokes a headlong flight that seems quite -natural. As for the wounds, these are enumerated and described, sung and -deplored as so many remarkable phenomena. On the other hand, the most -discreditable routs, the most shameful panics are frequent; and the old -poet relates them without condemning them, as ordinary incidents to be -ascribed to the gods and inevitable in any warfare. - -This kind of courage is that of all antiquity, more or less. We will -not linger over it, nor delay to consider the battles of the Middle -Ages or the Renascence, in which the fiercest hand-to-hand encounters -of the mercenaries often left not more than half-a-dozen victims -on the field. Let us rather come straight to the great wars of the -Empire. Here the courage displayed begins to resemble our own, but with -notable differences. In the first place, those concerned were solely -professionals. We see not a whole nation fighting, but a delegation, a -martial selection, which, it is true, becomes gradually more extensive, -but never, as in our time, embraces every man between eighteen and fifty -years of age capable of shouldering a weapon. Again—and above all—every -war was reduced to two or three pitched battles, that is to say, two -or three culminating moments: immense efforts, but efforts of a few -hours, or a day at most, towards which the combatants directed all the -vigour and all the heroism accumulated during long weeks or months of -preparation and waiting. Afterwards, whether the result was victory or -defeat, the fighting was over; relaxation, respite and rest followed; men -went back to their homes. Destiny must not be defied more than once; and -they knew that in the most terrible affray the chances of escaping death -were as twenty to one. - - -3 - -Nowadays, everything is changed; and death itself is no longer what it -was. Formerly, you looked it in the face, you knew whence it came and -who sent it to you. It had a dreadful aspect, but one that remained -human. Its ways were not unknown: its long spells of sleep, its brief -awakenings, its bad days and dangerous hours. At present, to all these -horrors it adds the great, intolerable fear of mystery. It no longer -has any aspect, no longer has habits or spells of sleep and it is never -still. It is always ready, always on the watch, everywhere present, -scattered, intangible and dense, stealthy and cowardly, diffuse, -all-encompassing, innumerous, looming at every point of the horizon, -rising from the waters and falling from the skies, indefatigable, -inevitable, filling the whole of space and time for days, weeks and -months without a minute’s lull, without a second’s intermission. Men -live, move and sleep in the meshes of its fatal web. They know that the -least step to the right or left, a head bowed or lifted, a body bent or -upright, is seen by its eyes and draws its thunder. - -Hitherto we had no example of this preponderance of the destructive -forces. We should never have believed that man’s nerves could resist so -great a trial. The nerves of the bravest man are tempered to face death -for the space of a second, but not to live in the hourly expectation -of death and nothing else. Heroism was once a sharp and rugged peak, -reached for a moment but quitted forthwith, for mountain-peaks are not -inhabitable. To-day it is a boundless plain, as uninhabitable as the -peaks; but we are not permitted to descend from it. And so, at the very -moment when man appeared most exhausted and enervated by the comforts and -vices of civilization, at the moment when he was happiest and therefore -most selfish, when, possessing the minimum of faith and vainly seeking -a new ideal, he seemed less capable of sacrificing himself for an idea -of any kind, he finds himself suddenly confronted with an unprecedented -danger, which he is almost certain that the most heroic nations of -history would not have faced nor even dreamed of facing, whereas he does -not even dream that it is possible to do aught but face it. And let it -not be said that we had no choice, that the danger and the struggle were -thrust upon us, that we had to defend ourselves or die and that in such -cases there are no cowards. It is not true: there was, there always has -been, there still is a choice. - - -4 - -It is not man’s life that is at stake, but the idea which he forms of the -honour, the happiness and the duties of his life. To save his life he -had but to submit to the enemy; the invader would not have exterminated -him. You cannot exterminate a great people; it is not even possible to -enslave it seriously or to inflict great sorrow upon it for long. He had -nothing to be afraid of except disgrace. He did not so much as see the -infamous temptation appear above the horizon of his most instinctive -fears; he does not even suspect that it is able to exist; and he will -never perceive it, whatever sacrifices may yet await him. We are not, -therefore, speaking of a heroism that would be but the last resource of -despair, the heroism of the animal driven to bay and fighting blindly -to delay death’s coming for a moment. No, it is heroism freely donned, -deliberately and unanimously hailed, heroism on behalf of an idea and -a sentiment, in other words, heroism in its clearest, purest and most -virginal form, a disinterested and wholehearted sacrifice for that which -men regard as their duty to themselves, to their kith and kin, to mankind -and to the future. If life and personal safety were more precious than -the idea of honour, of patriotism and of fidelity to the tradition and -the race, there was, I repeat, and there is still a choice to be made; -and never perhaps in any war was the choice easier, for never did men -feel more free, never indeed were they more free, to choose. - -But this choice, as I have said, did not dare show its faintest shadow -on the lowest horizons of even the most ignoble consciences. Are you -quite sure that in other times which we think better and more virtuous -than our own men would not have seen it, would not have spoken of it? Can -you find a nation, even among the greatest, which, after six months of a -war compared with which all other wars seem child’s-play, of a war which -threatens and uses up all that nation’s life and all its possessions, can -you find, I say, in history, not an instance—for there is no instance—but -some similar case which allows you to presume that the nation would not -have faltered, would not at least, were it but for a second, have looked -down and cast its eyes upon an inglorious peace? - - -5 - -Nevertheless, they seemed much stronger than we are, all those who came -before us. They were rude, austere, much closer to nature, poor and -often unhappy. They had a simpler and a more rigid code of thought; -they had the habit of physical suffering, of hardship and of death. -But I do not believe that any one dares contend that these men would -have done what our soldiers are now doing, that they would have endured -what is being endured all around us. Are we not entitled to conclude -from this that civilization, contrary to what was feared, so far from -enervating, depraving, weakening, lowering and dwarfing man, elevates -him, purifies him, strengthens him, ennobles him, makes him capable of -acts of sacrifice, generosity and courage which he did not know before? -The fact is that civilization, even when it seems to entail corruption, -brings intelligence with it and that intelligence, in days of trial, -stands for potential pride, nobility and heroism. That, as I said in the -beginning, is the unexpected and consoling revelation of this horrible -war: we can rely on man implicitly, place the greatest trust in him, nor -fear lest, in laying aside his primitive brutality, he should lose his -manly qualities. The greater his progress in the conquest of nature and -the greater his apparent attachment to material welfare, the more does he -become capable nevertheless, unconsciously, deep down in the best part of -him, of self-detachment and of self-sacrifice for the common safety and -the more does he understand that he is nothing when he compares himself -with the eternal life of his forbears and his children. - -It was so great a trial that we dared not, before this war, have -contemplated it. The future of the human race was at stake; and the -magnificent response that comes to us from every side reassures us fully -as to the issue of other struggles, more formidable still, which no doubt -await us when it will be a question no longer of fighting our fellow-men -but rather of facing the more powerful and cruel of the great mysterious -enemies that nature holds in reserve against us. If it be true, as I -believe, that humanity is worth just as much as the sum total of latent -heroism which it contains, then we may declare that humanity was never -stronger nor more exemplary than now and that it is at this moment -reaching one of its highest points and capable of braving everything and -hoping everything. And it is for this reason that, despite our present -sadness, we are entitled to congratulate ourselves and to rejoice. - - - - -X - -ON RE-READING THUCYDIDES - - -1 - -At moments above all when history is in the making, in these times when -great and as yet incomplete pages are being traced, pages by the side -of which all that had already been written will pale, it is a good and -salutary thing to turn to the past in search of instruction, warning -and encouragement. In this respect, the unwearying and implacable war -which Athens kept up against Sparta for twenty-seven years, with the -hegemony of Greece for a stake, presents more than one analogy with that -which we ourselves are waging and teaches lessons that should make us -reflect. The counsels which it gives us are all the more precious, all -the more striking or profound inasmuch as the war is narrated to us by -a man who remains, with Tacitus, despite the striving of the centuries, -the progress of life and all the opportunities of doing better, the -greatest historian that the earth has ever known. Thucydides is in fact -the supreme historian, at the same time swift and detailed, scrupulously -sifting his evidence but giving free play to intuition, setting forth -none but incontestable facts, yet divining the most secret intentions and -embracing at a glance all the present and future political consequences -of the events which he relates. He is withal one of the most perfect -writers, one of the most admirable artists in the literature of mankind; -and from this point of view, in an entirely different and almost -antagonistic world, he has not an equal save Tacitus. - -But Tacitus is before everything a wonderful tragic poet, a painter of -foul abysses, of fire and blood, who can lay bare the souls of monsters -and their crimes, whereas Thucydides is above all a great political -moralist, a statesman endowed with extraordinary perspicacity, a painter -of the open air and of a free state, who portrays the minds of those -sane, ingenious, subtle, generous and marvellously intelligent men -who peopled ancient Greece. The one piles on the gloom with a lavish -hand, gathers dark shadows which he pierces at each sentence with -lightning-flashes, but remains sombre and oppressed on the very summits, -whereas the other condenses nothing but light, groups together judgments -that are so many radiant sheaves and remains luminous and breathes freely -in the very depths. The first is passionate, violent, fierce, indignant, -bitter, sincerely but pitilessly unjust and all made up of magnificent -animosities; the second is always even, always at the same high level, -which is that which the noblest endeavour of human reason can attain. He -has no passion but a passion for the public weal, for justice, glory and -intelligence. It is as though all his work were spread out in the blue -sky; and even his famous picture of the plague of Athens seems covered -with sunshine. - - -2 - -But there is no need to follow up this parallel, which is not my object. -I will not dwell any longer—though perhaps I may return to them one -day—upon the lessons which we might derive from that Peloponnesian War, -in which the position of Athens towards Lacedæmon provides more than one -point of comparison with that of France towards Germany. True, we do -not there see, as in our own case, civilized nations fighting a morally -barbarian people: it was a contest between Greeks and Greeks, displaying, -however, in the same physical race two different and incompatible -spirits. Athens stood for human life in its happiest development, -gracious, cheerful and peaceful. She took no serious interest except in -the happiness, the imponderous riches, the innocent and perfect beauties, -the sweet leisures, the glories and the arts of peace. When she went to -war, it was as though in play, with the smile still on her face, looking -upon it as a more violent pleasure than the rest, or as a duty joyfully -accepted. She bound herself down to no discipline, she was never ready, -she improvised everything at the last moment, having, “with habits not -of labour but of ease and courage not of art but of nature,” as Pericles -said, “the double advantage of escaping the experience of hardships in -anticipation and of facing them in the hour of need as fearlessly as -those who are never free from them.”[27] - -For Sparta, on the other hand, life was nothing but endless work, an -incessant strain, having no other objective than war. She was gloomy, -austere, strict, morose, almost ascetic, an enemy to everything that -excuses man’s presence on this earth, a nation of spoilers, looters, -incendiaries and devastators, a nest of wasps beside a swarm of bees, -a perpetual menace and danger to everything around her, as hard upon -herself as upon others and boasting an ideal which may appear lofty if -it be man’s ideal to be unhappy and the contented slave of unrelenting -discipline. On the other hand, she differed entirely from those whom we -are now fighting in that she was generally honest, loyal and upright and -showed a certain respect for the gods and their temples, for treaties and -for international law. It is none the less true that, if she had from the -beginning reigned alone or without encountering a long resistance, Hellas -would never have been the Hellas that we know. She would have left in -history but a precarious trace of useless warlike virtues and of minor -combats without glory; and mankind would not have possessed that centre -of light towards which it turns to this day. - - -3 - -What was to be the issue of this war? Here begins the lesson which it -were well to study thoroughly. It would seem indeed as if, with the -first encounters in that conflict, as in our own, the inexplicable will -that governs nations was favourable to the less civilized; and in fact -Lacedæmon gained the upper hand, at least temporarily and sufficiently -to abuse her victory to such a degree that she soon lost its fruits. -But Athens held the evil will in check for seven-and-twenty years; -for twenty-seven summers and twenty-seven winters, to use Thucydides’ -reckoning, she proved to us that it is possible, in defiance of -probability, to fight against what seems written in the book of heaven -and hell. Nay more, at a time when Sparta, whose sole industry, whose -sole training, whose only reason for existence and whose only ideal was -war, was hugging the thought of crushing in a few weeks, under the weight -of her formidable hoplites, a frivolous, careless and ill-organized city, -Athens, notwithstanding the treacherous blow which fate dealt her by -sending a plague that carried off a third of her civil population and a -quarter of her army, Athens for seventeen years definitely held victory -in her grasp. During this period, she more than once had Lacedæmon at -her mercy and did not begin to descend the stony path of ruin and defeat -until after the disastrous expedition to Sicily, in which, carried away -by her rhetoricians and bitten with inconceivable folly, she hurled -all her fleet, all her soldiers and all her wealth into a remote, -unprofitable, unknown and desperate adventure. She resisted the decline -of her fortunes for yet another ten years, heaping up her sins against -wisdom and simple common sense and with her own hands drawing tighter -the knot that was to strangle her, as though to show us that destiny is -for the most part but our own madness and that what we call unavoidable -fatality has its root only in mistakes that might easily be avoided. - - -4 - -To point this moral was again not my real object. In these days when we -have so many sorrows to assuage and so many deaths to honour, I wished -merely to recall a page written over two thousand years ago, to the glory -of the Athenian heroes who fell for their country in the first battles of -that war. According to the custom of the Greeks, the bones of the dead -that had been burnt on the battlefield were solemnly brought back to -Athens at the end of the year; and the people chose the greatest speaker -in the city to deliver the funeral oration. This honour fell to Pericles -son of Xanthippus, the Pericles of the golden age of human beauty. After -pronouncing a well-merited and magnificent eulogium on the Athenian -nation and institutions, he concluded with the following words: - - “Indeed, if I have dwelt at some length upon the character - of our country, it has been to show that our stake in the - struggle is not the same as theirs who have no such blessing - to lose and also that the panegyric of the men over whom I am - now speaking might be by definite proofs established. That - panegyric is now in a great measure complete; for the Athens - that I have celebrated is only what the heroism of these and - their like have made her, men whose fame, unlike that of most - Hellenes, will be found to be only commensurate with their - deserts. And, if a test of worth be wanted, it is to be found - in their closing scene; and this not only in the cases in which - it set the final seal upon their merit, but also in those - in which it gave the first intimation of their having any. - For there is justice in the claim that steadfastness in his - country’s battles should be as a cloak to cover a man’s other - imperfections, since the good action has blotted out the bad - and his merit as a citizen more than outweighed his demerits as - an individual. But none of these allowed either wealth with its - prospect of future enjoyment to unnerve his spirit, or poverty - with its hope of a day of freedom and riches to tempt him to - shrink from danger. No, holding that vengeance upon their - enemies was more to be desired than any personal blessings - and reckoning this to be the most glorious of hazards, they - joyfully determined to accept the risk, to make sure of their - vengeance and to let their wishes wait; and, while committing - to hope the uncertainty of final success, in the business - before them they thought fit to act boldly and trust in - themselves. Thus choosing to die resisting rather than to live - submitting, they fled only from dishonour, but met danger face - to face and, after one brief moment, while at the summit of - their fortune, escaped not from their fear but from their glory. - - “So died these men as became Athenians. You, their survivors, - must determine to have as unfaltering a resolution in the - field, though you may pray that it may have a happier issue. - And, not contented with ideas derived only from words of - the advantages which are bound up with the defence of your - country, though these would furnish a valuable text to a - speaker even before an audience so alive to them as the - present, you must yourselves realize the power of Athens and - feed your eyes upon her from day to day, till love of her fills - your hearts; and then, when all her greatness shall break upon - you, you must reflect that it was by courage, sense of duty and - a keen feeling of honour in action that men were enabled to win - all this and that no personal failure in an enterprise could - make them consent to deprive their country of their valour, - but they laid it at her feet as the most glorious contribution - that they could offer. For by this offering of their lives made - in common by them all they each of them individually received - that renown which never grows old and, for a sepulchre, not - so much that in which their bones have been deposited, but - that noblest of shrines wherein their glory is laid up to be - eternally remembered upon every occasion on which deed or story - shall call for its commemoration. For heroes have the whole - earth for their tomb; and in lands far from their own, where - the column with its epitaph declares it, there is enshrined in - every breast a record unwritten with no tablet to preserve it, - except that of the heart. These take as your model and, judging - happiness to be the fruit of freedom and freedom of valour, - never decline the dangers of war. For it is not the miserable - that would most justly be unsparing of their lives: these - have nothing to hope for; it is rather they to whom continued - life may bring reverses as yet unknown and to whom a fall, if - it came, would be most tremendous in its consequences. And - surely, to a man of spirit, the degradation of cowardice must - be immeasurably more grievous than the unfelt death which - strikes him in the midst of his strength and patriotism! - - “Comfort, therefore, not condolence, is what I have to offer - to the parents of the dead who may be here. Numberless are the - chances to which, as they know, the life of man is subject; - but fortunate indeed are they who draw for their lot a death - so glorious as that which has caused your mourning and to - whom life has been so exactly measured as to terminate in the - happiness in which it has been passed. Still I know that this - is a hard saying, especially when those are in question of - whom you will be constantly reminded by seeing in the homes of - others blessings of which once you also boasted; for grief is - felt not so much for the want of what we have never known as - for the loss of that to which we have been long accustomed. Yet - you who are still of an age to beget children must bear up in - the hope of having others in their stead: not only will they - help you to forget those whom you have lost, but they will be - to the state at once a reinforcement and a security; for never - can a fair or just policy be expected of the citizen who does - not, like his fellows, bring to the decision the interests and - apprehensions of a father. While those of you who have passed - your prime must congratulate yourselves with the thought that - the best part of your life was fortunate and that the brief - span that remains will be cheered by the fame of the departed. - For it is only the love of honour that never grows old; and - honour it is, not gain, as some would have felt it, that - rejoices the heart of age and helplessness.... - - “And, now that you have brought to a close your lamentations - for your relatives, you may depart.” - -These words spoken twenty-three centuries ago ring in our hearts as -though they were uttered yesterday. They celebrate our dead better than -could any eloquence of ours, however poignant it might be. Let us bow -before their paramount beauty and before the great people that could -applaud and understand. - - - - -XI - -THE DEAD DO NOT DIE - - -1 - -When we behold the terrible loss of so many young lives, when we see -so many incarnations of physical and moral vigour, of intellect and of -glorious promise pitilessly cut off in their first flower, we are on the -verge of despair. Never before have the fairest energies and aspirations -of men been flung recklessly and incessantly into an abyss whence comes -no sound or answer. Never since it came into existence has humanity -squandered its treasure, its substance and its prospects so lavishly. -For more than twelve months, on every battlefield, where the bravest, -the truest, the most ardent and self-sacrificing are necessarily the -first to die and where the less courageous, the less generous, the weak, -the ailing, in a word the less desirable, alone possess some chance of -escaping the carnage, for over twelve months a sort of monstrous inverse -selection has been in operation, one which seems to be deliberately -seeking the downfall of the human race. And we wonder uneasily what the -state of the world will be after the great trial and what will be left of -it and what will be the future of this stunted race, shorn of all the -best and noblest part of it. - -The problem is certainly one of the darkest that has ever vexed the minds -of men. It contains a material truth before which we remain defenceless; -and, if we accept it as it stands, we can discover no remedy for the -evil that threatens us. But material and tangible truths are never -anything but a more or less salient angle of greater and deeper-lying -truths. And on the other hand mankind appears to be such a necessary and -indestructible force of nature that it has always, hitherto, not only -survived the most desperate ordeals, but succeeded in benefiting by them -and emerging greater and stronger than before. - - -2 - -We know that peace is better than war; it were madness to compare the -two. We know that, if this cataclysm let loose by an act of unutterable -folly had not come upon the world, mankind would doubtless have reached -ere long a zenith of wonderful achievement whose manifestations it is -impossible to foreshadow. We know that, if a third or a fourth part of -the fabulous sums expended on extermination and destruction had been -devoted to works of peace, all the iniquities that poison the air we -breathe would have been triumphantly redressed and that the social -question, the one great question, that matter of life and death which -justice demands that posterity should face, would have found its definite -solution, once and for all, in a happiness which now perhaps even our -sons and grandsons will not realize. We know that the disappearance -of two or three million young existences, cut down when they were on -the point of bearing fruit, will leave in history a void that will not -be easily filled, even as we know that among those dead were mighty -intellects, treasures of genius which will not come back again and which -contained inventions and discoveries that will now perhaps be lost to us -for centuries. We know that we shall never grasp the consequences of this -thrusting back of progress and of this unprecedented devastation. But, -granting all this, it is a good thing to recover our balance and stand -upon our feet. There is no irreparable loss. Everything is transformed, -nothing perishes and that which seems to be hurled into destruction is -not destroyed at all. Our moral world, even as our physical world, is -a vast but hermetically-sealed sphere, whence naught can issue, whence -naught can fall to be dissolved in space. All that exists, all that comes -into being upon this earth remains there and bears fruit; and the most -appalling wastage is but material or spiritual riches flung away for an -instant, to fall to the ground again in a new form. There is no escape or -leakage, no filtering through cracks, no missing the mark, not even waste -or neglect. All this heroism poured out on every side does not leave our -planet; and the reason why the courage of our fighters seems so general -and yet so extraordinary is that all the might of the dead has passed -into those who survive. All those forces of wisdom, patience, honour and -self-sacrifice which increase day by day and which we ourselves, who -are far from the field of danger, feel rising within us without knowing -whence they come are nothing but the souls of the heroes gathered and -absorbed by our own souls. - - -3 - -It is well at times to contemplate invisible things as though we saw them -with our eyes. This was the aim of all the great religions, when they -but represented under forms appropriate to the manners of their day the -latent deep, instinctive truths, the general and essential truths which -are the guiding principles of mankind. All have felt and recognized that -loftiest of all truths, the communion of the living and the dead, and -have given it various names designating the same mysterious verity: the -Christians know it as revival of merit, the Buddhists as reincarnation, -or transmigration of souls, and the Japanese as Shintoism, or -ancestor-worship. The last are more fully convinced than any other nation -that the dead do not cease to live and that they direct our actions, are -exalted by our virtues and become gods. - -Lafcadio Hearn, the writer who has most closely studied and understood -that wonderful ancestor-worship, says: - -“One of the surprises of our future will certainly be a return to beliefs -and ideas long ago abandoned upon the mere assumption that they contained -no truth—beliefs still called barbarous, pagan, mediæval, by those who -condemn them out of traditional habit. Year after year the researches of -science afford us new proof that the savage, the barbarian, the idolater, -the monk, each and all have arrived, by different paths, as near to some -one point of eternal truth as any thinker of the nineteenth century. We -are now learning, also, that the theories of the astrologers and of the -alchemists were but partially, not totally, wrong. We have reason even to -suppose that no dream of the invisible world has ever been dreamed,—that -no hypothesis of the unseen has ever been imagined,—which future science -will not prove to have contained some germ of reality.”[28] - -There are many things which might be added to these lines, notably -all that the most recent of our sciences, metaphysics, is engaged -in discovering with regard to the miraculous faculties of our -subconsciousness. - - -4 - -But, to return more directly to what we were saying, was it not observed -that, after the great battles of the Napoleonic era, the birth-rate -increased in an extraordinary manner, as though the lives suddenly cut -short in their prime were not really dead and were eager to be back again -in our midst and complete their career? If we could follow with our eyes -all that is happening in the spiritual world that rises above us on every -side, we should no doubt see that it is the same with the moral force -that seems to be lost on the field of slaughter. It knows where to go, -it knows its goal, it does not hesitate. All that our wonderful dead -relinquish they bequeath to us; and, when they die for us, they leave us -their lives not in any strained, metaphorical sense, but in a very real -and direct way. Virtue goes out of every man who falls while performing -a deed of glory; and that virtue drops down upon us; and nothing of him -is lost and nothing evaporates in the shock of a premature end. He gives -us in one solitary and mighty stroke what he would have given us in a -long life of duty and love. Death does not injure life; it is powerless -against it. Life’s aggregate never changes. What death takes from those -who fall enters into those who are left standing. The number of lamps -grows less, but the flame rises higher. Death is in no wise the gainer -so long as there are living men. The more it exercises its ravages, the -more it increases the intensity of that which it cannot touch; the more -it pursues its phantom victories, the better does it prove to us that man -will end by conquering death. - - - - -XII - -IN MEMORIAM - - -Those who die for their country should not be numbered with the dead. We -must call them by another name. They have nothing in common with those -who end in their beds a life that is worn out, a life almost always too -long and often useless. Death, which every elsewhere is but the object of -fear and horror, bringing naught but nothingness and despair, this death, -on the field of battle, in the clash of glory, becomes more beautiful -than birth and exhales a grace greater than that of love. No life will -ever give what their youth is offering us, that youth which gives in one -moment the days and the years that lay before it. There is no sacrifice -to be compared with that which they have made; for which reason there is -no glory that can soar so high as theirs, no gratitude that can surpass -the gratitude which we owe them. They have not only a right to the -foremost place in our memories: they have a right to all our memories and -to everything that we are, since we exist only through them. - -And now it is in us that their life, so suddenly cut short, must resume -its course. Whatever be our faith and whatever the God whom it adores, -one thing is almost certain and, in spite of all appearances, is daily -becoming more certain: it is that death and life are commingled; the dead -and the living alike are but moments, hardly dissimilar, of a single -and infinite existence and members of one immortal family. They are not -beneath the earth, in the depths of their tombs; they lie deep in our -hearts, where all that they once were will continue to live and to act; -and they live in us even as we die in them. They see us, they understand -us more nearly than when they were in our arms; let us then keep a watch -upon ourselves, so that they witness no actions and hear no words but -words and actions that shall be worthy of them. - - - - -XIII - -THE LIFE OF THE DEAD - - -1 - -The other day I went to see a woman whom I knew before the war—she was -happy then—and who had lost her only son in one of the battles in the -Argonne. She was a widow, almost a poor woman; and, now that this son, -her pride and her joy, was no more, she no longer had any reason for -living. I hesitated to knock at her door. Was I not about to witness one -of those hopeless griefs at whose feet all words fall to the ground like -shameful and insulting lies? Which of us to-day is not familiar with -these mournful interviews, this dismal duty? - -To my great astonishment, she offered me her hand with a kindly smile. -Her eyes, to which I hardly dared raise my own, were free of tears. - -“You have come to speak of him,” she said, in a cheerful tone; and it was -as though her voice had grown younger. - -“Alas, yes! I had heard of your sorrow; and I have come....” - -“Yes, I too believed that my unhappiness was irreparable; but now I know -that he is not dead.” - -“What! He is not dead? Do you mean that the news...? But I thought that -the body....” - -“Yes, his body is over there; and I have even a photograph of his grave. -Let me show it to you. See, that cross on the left, the fourth cross: -that is where he is lying. One of his friends, who buried him, sent me -this card and gave me all the details. He suffered no pain. There was -not even a death-struggle. And he has told me so himself. He is quite -astonished that death should be so easy, so slight a thing.... You do not -understand? Yes, I see what it is: you are just as I used to be, as all -the others are. I do not explain the matter to the others; what would be -the use? They do not wish to understand. But you, you will understand. He -is more alive than he ever was; he is free and happy. He does just as he -likes. He tells me that one cannot imagine what a release death is, what -a weight it removes from you, nor the joy which it brings. He comes to -see me when I call him. He loves especially to come in the evening; and -we chat as we used to. He has not altered; he is just as he was on the -day when he went away, only younger, stronger, handsomer. We have never -been happier, more united, nearer to one another. He divines my thoughts -before I utter them. He knows everything; he sees everything; but he -cannot tell me everything he knows. He maintains that I must be wanting -to follow him and that I must wait for my hour. And, while I wait, we are -living in a happiness greater than that which was ours before the war, a -happiness which nothing can ever trouble again....” - -Those about her pitied the poor woman; and, as she did not weep, as she -was gay and smiling, they believed her mad. - - -2 - -Was she as mad as they thought? At the present moment, the great -questions of the world beyond the grave are pressing upon us from every -side. It is probable that, since the world began, there have never -been so many dead as now. The empire of death was never so mighty, so -terrible; it is for us to defend and enlarge the empire of life. In the -presence of this mother, which are right and which are wrong, those who -are convinced that their dead are for ever swept out of existence, or -those who are persuaded that their dead do not cease to live, who believe -that they see them and hear them? Do we know what it is that dies in -our dead, or even if anything dies? Whatever our religious faith may -be, there is at any rate one place where they cannot die. That place is -within ourselves; and, if this unhappy mother went beyond the truth, she -was yet nearer to it than those despairing ones who nourish the mournful -certainty that nothing survives of those whom they loved. She felt too -keenly what we do not feel keenly enough. She remembered too much; and we -do not know how to remember. Between the two errors there is room for a -great truth; and, if we have to choose, hers is the error towards which -we should lean. Let us learn to acquire through reason that which a wise -madness bestowed on her. Let us learn from her to live with our dead and -to live with them without sadness and without terror. They do not ask for -tears, but for a happy and confident affection. Let us learn from her to -resuscitate those whom we regret. She called to hers, while we repulse -ours; we are afraid of them and are surprised that they lose heart and -pale and fade away and leave us for ever. They need love as much as do -the living. They die, not at the moment when they sink into the grave, -but gradually as they sink into oblivion; and it is oblivion alone that -makes the separation irrevocable. We should not allow it to heap itself -above them. It would be enough to vouchsafe them each day a single one of -those thoughts which we bestow uncounted upon so many useless objects: -they would no longer think of leaving us; they would remain around us and -we should no longer understand what a tombstone is, for there is no tomb, -however deep, whose stone may not be raised and whose dust dispersed by a -thought. - -There would be no difference between the living and the dead if we but -knew how to remember. There would be no more dead. The best of what they -were dwells with us after fate has taken them from us; all their past is -ours; and it is wider than the present, more certain than the future. -Material presence is not everything in this world; and we can dispense -with it without despairing. We do not mourn those who live in lands which -we shall never visit, because we know that it depends on us whether we -go to find them. Let it be the same with our dead. Instead of believing -that they have disappeared never to return, tell yourselves that they are -in a country to which you yourself will assuredly go soon, a country not -so very far away. And while waiting for the time when you will go there -once and for all, you may visit them in thought as easily as if they were -still in a region inhabited by the living. The memory of the dead is even -more alive than that of the living; it is as though they were assisting -our memory, as though they, on their side, were making a mysterious -effort to join hands with us on ours. One feels that they are far more -powerful than the absent who continue to breathe as we do. - - -3 - -Try then to recall those whom you have lost, before it is too late, -before they have gone too far; and you will see that they will come much -closer to your heart, that they will belong to you more truly, that they -are as real as when they were in the flesh. In putting off this last, -they have but discarded the moments in which they loved us least or in -which we did not love at all. Now they are pure; they are clothed only in -the fairest hours of life; they no longer possess faults, littlenesses, -oddities; they can no longer fall away, or deceive themselves, or give -us pain. They care for nothing now but to smile upon us, to encompass us -with love, to bring us a happiness drawn without stint from a past which -they live again beside us. - - - - -XIV - -THE WAR AND THE PROPHETS - - -1 - -At the end of an essay occurring in _The Unknown Guest_ and entitled, -_The Knowledge of the Future_, in which I examined a certain number -of phenomena relating to the anticipatory perception of events, such -as presentiments, premonitions, precognitions, predictions, etc., I -concluded in nearly the following terms: - - “To sum up, if it is difficult for us to conceive that the - future preexists, perhaps it is just as difficult for us to - understand that it does not exist; moreover, many facts tend - to prove that it is as real and definite and has, both in - time and eternity, the same permanence and the same vividness - as the past. Now, from the moment that it preexists, it is - not surprising that we should be able to know it; it is even - astonishing, granted that it overhangs us from every side, that - we should not discover it oftener and more easily.” - -Above all is it astonishing and almost inconceivable that this universal -war, the most stupendous catastrophe that has overwhelmed humanity since -the origin of things, should not, while it was approaching, bearing in -its womb innumerable woes which were about to affect almost every one of -us, have thrown upon us more plainly, from the recesses of those days -in which it was making ready, its menacing shadow. One would think that -it ought to have overcast the whole horizon of the future, even as it -will overcast the whole horizon of the past. A secret of such weight, -suspended in time, ought surely to have weighed upon all our lives; and -presentiments or revelations should have arisen on every hand. There was -none of these. We lived and moved without uneasiness beneath the disaster -which, from year to year, from day to day, from hour to hour, was -descending upon the world; and we perceived it only when it touched our -heads. True, it was more or less foreseen by our reason; but our reason -hardly believed in it; and besides I am not for the moment speaking of -the inductions of the understanding, which are always uncertain and which -are resigned beforehand to the capricious contradictions which they are -daily accustomed to receive from facts. - - -2 - -But I repeat, beside or above these inductions of our everyday logic, -in the less familiar domain of supernatural intuitions, of divination, -prediction or prophecy properly so-called, we find that there was -practically nothing to warn us of the vast peril. This does not mean that -there was any lack of predictions or prophecies collected after the -event; these number, it appears, no fewer than eighty-three; but none of -them, excepting those of Léon Sonrel and the Rector of Ars, which we will -examine in a moment, is worthy of serious discussion. I shall therefore -mention, by way of a reminder, only the most widely known; and, first of -all, the famous prophecy of Mayence or Strasburg, which is supposed to -have been discovered by a certain Jecker in an ancient convent founded -near Mayence by St. Hildegarde, of which the original text could not -be found and of which no one until lately had ever heard. Then there -is another prophecy of Mayence or Fiensberg, published in the _Neue -Metaphysische Rundschau_ of Berlin in February 1912, in which the end of -the German Empire is announced for the year 1913. Next, we have various -predictions uttered by Mme. de Thèbes, by Dom Bosco, by Blessed Andrew -Bobola, by Korzenicki the Polish monk, by Tolstoy, by Brother Hermann -and so on, which are even less interesting; and, lastly, the prophecy of -“Brother Johannes,” published by M. Joséphin Peladan in the _Figaro_ of -16 September 1914, which contains no evidence of genuineness and must -therefore meanwhile be regarded merely as an ingenious literary conceit. - - -3 - -All these, on examination, leave but a worthless residuum; but the -prophecies of the Rector of Ars and Léon Sonrel are more curious and -worthy of a moment’s attention. - -Father Jean-Baptiste Vianney, Rector of Ars, was, as everybody knows, a -very saintly priest, who appears to have been endowed with extraordinary -mediumistic faculties. The prophecy in question was made public in 1862, -three years after the miracle-worker’s death, and was confirmed by a -letter which Mgr. Perriet addressed to the Very Rev. Dom Gréa on the -24th of February 1908. Moreover it was printed, as far back as 1872, in -a collection entitled, _Voix prophétiques, ou signes, apparitions et -prédictions modernes_. It therefore has an incontestable date. I pass -over the part relating to the war of 1870, which does not offer the same -safeguards; but I give that which concerns the present war, quoting from -the 1872 text: - -“The enemies will not go altogether; they will return again and destroy -everything upon their passage; we shall not resist them, but will allow -them to advance; and, after that, we shall cut off their provisions and -make them suffer great losses. They will retreat towards their country; -we shall follow them and there will be hardly any who return home. Then -we shall take back all that they took from us and much more.” - -As for the date of the event, it is stated definitely and rather -strikingly in these words: - -“They will want to canonize me, but there will not be time.” - -Now the preliminaries to the canonization of the Rector of Ars were begun -in July 1914, but abandoned because of the war. - - -4 - -I now come to the Sonrel prediction. I will summarize it as briefly as -possible from the admirable article which M. de Vesme devoted to it in -the _Annales des Sciences Psychiques_.[29] - -On the 3rd of June 1914—observe the date—Professor Charles Richet handed -M. de Vesme, from Dr. Amédée Tardieu, a manuscript of which the following -is the substance: on the 23rd or 24th of July 1869, Dr. Tardieu was -strolling in the gardens of the Luxembourg with his friend Léon Sonrel, -a former pupil of the Higher Normal School and teacher of natural -philosophy at the Paris Observatory, when the latter had a kind of vision -in the course of which he predicted various precise and actual episodes -of the war of 1870, such as the collection on behalf of the wounded -at the moment of departure and the amount of the sum collected in the -soldiers’ képis; incidents of the journey to the frontier; the battle of -Sedan, the rout of the French, the civil war, the siege of Paris, his own -death, the birth of a posthumous child, the doctor’s political career and -so on: predictions all of which were verified, as is attested by numerous -witnesses who are worthy of the fullest credence. But I will pass over -this part of the story and consider only that portion which refers to the -present war: - -“I have been waiting for two years,” to quote the text of Dr. Tardieu’s -manuscript of the 3rd of June, “I have been waiting for two years for the -sequel of the prediction which you are about to read. I omit everything -that concerns my friend Léon’s family and my own private affairs. Yet -there is in my life at this moment a personal matter, which, as always -happens, agrees too closely with general occurrences for me to be able to -doubt what follows: - -“‘O my God! My country is lost: France is dead!... What a disaster!... -Ah, see, she is saved! She extends to the Rhine! O France, O my beloved -country, you are triumphant; you are the queen of nations!... Your genius -shines forth over the world.... All the earth wonders at you....” - -These are the words contained in the document written at the Mont-Dore on -the 3rd and handed to M. de Vesme on the 13th of June 1914, at a moment -when no one was thinking of the terrible war which to-day is ravaging -half the world. - -When questioned, after the declaration of war, by M. de Vesme on the -subject of the prophetic phrase, “I have been waiting for two years for -the sequel of the prediction which you are about to read,” Dr. Tardieu -replied, on the 12th of August: - -“I had been waiting for two years; and I will tell you why. My friend -Léon did not name the year, but the more general events are described -simultaneously with the events of my own life. Now the events which -concern me privately and which were doubtful two years ago became -certain in April or May last. My friends know that since May last I have -been announcing war as due before September, basing my prediction on -coincidences with events in my private life of which I do not speak.” - - -5 - -These, up to the present, are the only prophecies known to us that -deserve any particular attention. The prediction in both is timid and -laconic; but, in those regions where the least gleam of light assumes -extraordinary importance, it is not to be neglected. I admit, for the -rest, that there has so far been no time to carry out a serious enquiry -on this point, but I should be greatly surprised if any such enquiry -gave positive results and if it did not allow us to state that the -gigantic event, as a whole, as a general event, was neither foreseen -nor divined. On the other hand, we shall probably learn, when the -enquiry is completed, that hundreds of deaths, accidents, wounds and -cases of individual ruin and misfortune included in the great disaster -were predicted by clairvoyants, by mediums, by dreams and by every -other manner of premonition with a definiteness sufficient to eliminate -any kind of doubt. I have said elsewhere what I think of individual -predictions of this kind, which seem to be no more than the reading -of the presentiments which we carry within us, presentiments which -themselves, in the majority of cases, are but the perception, by the as -yet imperfectly known senses of our subconsciousness, of events in course -of formation or in process of realization which escape the attention -of our understanding. However, it would still remain to be explained -how a wholly accidental death or wound could be perceived by these -subliminal senses as an event in course of formation. In any case, it -would once more be confirmed, after this great test, that the knowledge -of the future, so soon as it ceases to refer to a strictly personal fact -and one, moreover, not at all remote, is always illusory, or rather -impossible. - -Apart then from these strictly personal cases, which for the moment we -will agree to set aside, it appears more than ever certain that there is -no communication between ourselves and the vast store of events which -have not yet occurred and which nevertheless seem already to exist at -some place, where they await the hour to advance upon us, or rather -the moment when we shall pass before them. As for the exceptional and -precarious infiltrations which belong not merely to the present that is -still unknown, veiled or disguised, but really to the future, apart from -the two which we have just examined, which are inconclusive, I, for my -part, know of but four or five that appear to be rigorously verified; -and these I have discussed in the essay which I have already mentioned. -For that matter, they have no bearing upon the present war. They are, -when all is said, so exceptional that they do not prove much; at the -most, they seem to confirm the idea that a store exists filled with -future events as real, as distinct and as immutable as those of the past; -and they allow us to hope that there are paths leading thither which -as yet we do not know, but which it will not be for ever impossible to -discover. - - - - -XV - -THE WILL OF EARTH - - -1 - -To-day’s conflict is but a revival of that which has not ceased to -drench the west of Europe in blood since the historical birth of the -continent. The two chief episodes in this conflict, as we all know, -are the invasion of Roman Gaul, including the north of Italy, by the -Franks and the successive conquests of England by the Anglo-Saxons and -the Normans. Without delaying to consider questions of race, which are -complex, uncertain and always open to discussion, we may, regarding -the matter from another aspect, perceive in the persistency and the -bitterness of this conflict the clash of two wills, of which one or the -other succumbs for a moment, only to rise up again with increased energy -and obstinacy. On the one hand is the will of earth or nature, which, -in the human species as in all others, openly favours brute or physical -force; and on the other hand is the will of humanity, or at least of a -portion of humanity, which seeks to establish the empire of other more -subtle and less animal forces. It is incontestable that hitherto the -former has always won the day. But it is equally incontestable that -its victory has always been only apparent and of brief duration. It -has regularly suffered defeat in its very triumph. Gaul, invaded and -overrun, presently absorbs her victor, even as England little by little -transforms her conquerors. On the morrow of victory, the instruments -of the will of earth turn upon her and arm the hand of the vanquished. -It is probable that the same phenomenon would recur once more to-day, -were events to follow the course prescribed by destiny. Germany, after -crushing and enslaving the greater part of Europe, after driving her back -and burdening her with innumerable woes, would end by turning against the -will which she represents; and that will, which until to-day had always -found in this race a docile tool and its favourite accomplices, would be -forced to seek these elsewhere, a task less easy than of old. - - -2 - -But now, to the amazement of all those who will one day consider them in -cold blood, events are suddenly ascending the irresistible current and, -for the first time since we have been in a position to observe it, the -adverse will is encountering an unexpected and insurmountable resistance. -If this resistance, as we can now no longer doubt, maintains itself -victoriously to the end, there will never perhaps have been such a sudden -change in the history of mankind; for man will have gained, over the will -of earth or nature or fatality, a triumph infinitely more significant, -more heavily fraught with consequences and perhaps more decisive than -all those which, in other provinces, appear to have crowned his efforts -more brilliantly. - -Let us not then be surprised that this resistance should be stupendous, -or that it should be prolonged beyond anything that our experience of -wars has taught us to expect. It was our prompt and easy defeat that -was written in the annals of destiny. We had against us all the forces -accumulated since the birth of Europe. We have to set history revolving -in the reverse direction. We are on the point of succeeding; and, if it -be true that intelligent beings watch us from the vantage-point of other -worlds, they will assuredly witness the most curious spectacle that our -planet has offered them since they discovered it amid the dust of stars -that glitters in space around it. They must be telling themselves in -amazement that the ancient and fundamental laws of earth are suddenly -being transgressed. - - -3 - -Suddenly? That is going too far. This transgression of a lower law, -which was no longer of the stature of mankind, had been preparing for a -very long time; but it was within an ace of being hideously punished. -It succeeded only by the aid of a part of those who formerly swelled -the great wave which they are to-day resisting by our side, as though -something in the history of the world or the plans of destiny had -altered; or rather as though we ourselves had at last succeeded in -altering that something and in modifying laws to which until this day we -were wholly subject. - -But it must not be thought that the conflict will end with the victory. -The deep-seated forces of earth will not be at once disarmed; for a -long time to come the invisible war will be waged under the reign of -peace. If we are not careful, victory may even be more disastrous to -us than defeat. For defeat, indeed, like previous defeats, would have -been merely a victory postponed. It would have absorbed, exhausted, -dispersed the enemy, by scattering him about the world, whereas our -victory will bring upon us a twofold peril. It will leave the enemy -in a state of savage isolation in which, thrown back upon himself, -cramped, purified by misfortune and poverty, he will secretly reinforce -his formidable virtues, while we, for our part, no longer held in check -by his unbearable but salutary menace, will give rein to failings and -vices which sooner or later will place us at his mercy. Before thinking -of peace, then, we must make sure of the future and render it powerless -to injure us. We cannot take too many precautions, for we are setting -ourselves against the manifest desire of the power that bears us. - -This is why our efforts are difficult and worthy of praise. We are -setting ourselves—we cannot too often repeat it—against the will of -earth. Our enemies are urged forward by a force that drives us back. -They are marching with nature, whereas we are striving against the great -current that sweeps the globe. The earth has an idea, which is no longer -ours. She remains convinced that man is an animal in all things like -other animals. She has not yet observed that he is withdrawing himself -from the herd. She does not yet know that he has climbed her highest -mountain-peaks. She has not yet heard tell of justice, pity, loyalty -and honour; she does not realize what they are, or confounds them with -weakness, clumsiness, fear and stupidity. She has stopped short at -the original certitudes which were indispensable to the beginnings of -life. She is lagging behind us; and the interval that divides us is -rapidly increasing. She thinks less quickly; she has not yet had time -to understand us. Moreover, she does not reckon as we do; and for her -the centuries are less than our years. She is slow because she is almost -eternal, while we are prompt because we have not many hours before us. -It may be that one day her thought will overtake ours; in the meantime, -we have to vindicate our advance and to prove to ourselves, as we are -beginning to do, that it is lawful to be in the right as against her, -that our advance is not fatal and that it is possible to maintain it. - - -4 - -For it is becoming difficult to argue that earth or nature is always -right and that those who do not blindly follow earth’s impulses are -necessarily doomed to perish. We have learned to observe her more -attentively and we have won the right to judge her. We have discovered -that, far from being infallible, she is continually making mistakes. -She gropes and hesitates. She does not know precisely what she wants. -She begins by making stupendous blunders. She first peoples the world -with uncouth and incoherent monsters, not one of which is capable of -living; these all disappear. Gradually she acquires, at the cost of -the life which she creates, an experience that is the cruel fruit of -the immeasurable suffering which she unfeelingly inflicts. At last she -grows wiser, curbs and amends herself, corrects herself, returns upon -her footsteps, repairs her errors, expending her best energies and her -highest intelligence upon the correction. It is incontestable that she is -improving her methods, that she is more skilful, more prudent and less -extravagant than at the outset. And yet the fact remains that, in every -department of life, in every organism, down to our own bodies, there is a -survival of bad workmanship, of twofold functions, of oversights, changes -of intention, absurdities, useless complications and meaningless waste. -We therefore have no reason to believe that our enemies are in the right -because earth is with them. Earth does not possess the truth any more -than we do. She seeks it, as do we, and discovers it no more readily. -She seems to know no more than we whither she is going or whither she is -being led by that which leads all things. - -We must not listen to her without enquiry; and we need not distress -ourselves or despair because we are not of her opinion. We are not -dealing with an infallible and unchangeable wisdom, to oppose which in -our thoughts would be madness. We are actually proving to her that it is -she who is in fault; that man’s reason for existence is loftier than that -which she provisionally assigned to him; that he is already outstripping -all that she foresaw; and that she does wrong to delay his advance. -She is, indeed, full of goodwill, is able on occasion to recognize -her mistakes and to obviate their disastrous results and by no means -takes refuge in majestic and inflexible self-conceit. If we are able to -persevere, we shall be able to convince her. Much time will be needed, -for, I repeat, she is slow, though in no wise obstinate. Much time will -be needed because a very long future is in question, a very great change -and the most important victory that man has ever hoped to win. - - - - -XVI - -WHEN THE WAR IS OVER - - -1 - -Before closing this book, I wish to weigh for the last time in my -conscience the words of hatred and malediction which the war has made me -utter in spite of myself. We have to do with the strangest of enemies. -He has knowingly and deliberately, while in the full possession of his -faculties and without necessity or excuse, revived all the crimes which -we supposed to be for ever buried in the barbarous past. He has trampled -under foot all the precepts which man had so painfully won from the cruel -darkness of his beginnings; he has violated all the laws of justice, -humanity, loyalty and honour, from the highest, which are almost godlike, -to the simplest, the most elementary, which still belong to the lower -worlds. There is no longer any doubt on this point: it has been proved -over and over again until we have attained a final certitude. - - -2 - -On the other hand, it is no less certain that he has displayed virtues -which it would be unworthy of us to deny; for we honour ourselves in -recognizing the valour of those whom we are fighting. He has gone to -his death in deep, compact, disciplined masses, with a blind, hopeless, -obstinate heroism, of which no such lurid example had ever yet been -known and which has many times compelled our admiration and our pity. -He has known how to sacrifice himself, with unprecedented and perhaps -unequalled abnegation, to an idea which we know to be false, inhuman and -even somewhat mean, but which he believes to be just and lofty; and a -sacrifice of this kind, whatever its object, is always the proof of a -force which survives those who devote themselves to making it and must -command respect. - -I know very well that this heroism is not like the heroism which we love. -For us, heroism must before all be voluntary, free from any constraint, -active, ardent, eager and spontaneous; whereas with our enemies it has -mingled with it a great deal of servility, passiveness, sadness, gloomy, -ignorant, massive submission and rather base fears. It is nevertheless -the fact that, in the moment of supreme peril, little remains of all -these distinctions, and that no force in the world can drive to its death -a people which does not bear within itself the strength to confront it. -Our soldiers make no mistake upon this point. Question the men returning -from the trenches: they detest the enemy, they abhor the aggressor, the -unjust and arrogant aggressor, uncouth, too often cruel and treacherous; -but they do not hate the man: they do him justice; they pity him; and, -after the battle, in the defenceless wounded soldier or disarmed prisoner -they recognize, with astonishment, a brother in misfortune who, like -themselves, is submitting to duties and laws which, like themselves, he -too believes lofty and necessary. Under the insufferable enemy they see -an unhappy man who likewise is bearing the burden of life. They forget -the things that divide them to recall only those which unite them in a -common destiny; and they teach us a great lesson. Better than ourselves, -who are far from danger, at the contact of profound and fearful verities -and realities they are already beginning to discern something that we -cannot yet perceive; and their obscure instinct is probably anticipating -the judgment of history and our own judgment, when we see more clearly. -Let us learn from them to be just and to distinguish that which we -are bound to despise and loathe from that which we may pity, love and -respect. Setting aside the unpardonable aggression and the inexpiable -violation of treaties, this war, despite its insanity, has come near -to being a bloody but magnificent proof of greatness, heroism and the -spirit of sacrifice. Humanity was ready to rise above itself, to surpass -all that it had hitherto accomplished. It has surpassed it. Never before -had nations been seen capable, for months on end, perhaps for years, of -renouncing their repose, their security, their wealth, their comfort, -all that they possessed and loved, down to their very life, in order -to do what they believed to be their duty. Never before had nations -been seen that were able as a whole to understand and admit that the -happiness of each of those who live in this time of trial is of no -consequence compared with the honour of those who live no more or the -happiness of those who are not yet alive. We stand on heights that had -not been attained before. And, if, on the enemies’ side, this unexampled -renunciation had not been poisoned at its source; if the war which -they are waging against us had been as fine, as loyal, as generous, as -chivalrous as that which we are waging against them, we may well believe -that it would have been the last and that it would have ended, not in -a battle, but, like the awakening from an evil dream, in a noble and -fraternal amazement. They have made that impossible; and this, we may be -sure, is the disappointment which the future will find it most difficult -to forgive them. - - -3 - -What are we to do now? Must we hate the enemy to the end of time? The -burden of hatred? is the heaviest that man can bear upon this earth; and -we should faint under the weight of it. On the other hand, we do not -wish once more to be the dupes and victims of confidence and love. Here -again our soldiers, in their simplicity, which is so clear-seeing and -so close to the truth, anticipate the future and teach us what to admit -and what to avoid. We have seen that they do not hate the man; but they -do not trust him at all. They discover the human being in him only when -he is unarmed. They know, from bitter experience, that, so long as he -possesses weapons, he cannot resist the frenzy of destruction, treachery -and slaughter; and that he does not become kindly until he is rendered -powerless. - -Is he thus by nature, or has he been perverted by those who lead him? -Have the rulers dragged the whole nation after them, or has the whole -nation driven its rulers on? Did the rulers make the nation like unto -themselves, or did the nation select and support them because they -resembled itself? Did the evil come from above or below, or was it -everywhere? Here we have the great obscure point of this terrible -adventure. It is not easy to throw light upon it and still less easy to -find excuses for it. If our enemies prove that they were deceived and -corrupted by their masters, they prove, at the same time, that they are -less intelligent, less firmly attached to justice, honour and humanity, -less civilized, in a word, than those whom they claimed the right to -enslave in the name of a superiority which they themselves have proved -not to exist; and, unless they can establish that their errors, perfidies -and cruelties, which can no longer be denied, should be imputed only to -those masters, then they themselves must bear the pitiless weight. I do -not know how they will escape from this predicament, nor what the future -will decide, that future which is wiser than the past, even as, in the -words of an old Slav proverb, the dawn is wiser than the eve. In the -meanwhile, let us copy the prudence of our soldiers, who know what to -believe far better than we do. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Marie Lenéru, _Les Affranchis_, Act III., sc. iv. - -[2] Those who take up the study of these supernormal manifestations -usually ask themselves: - -“Why mediums? Why make use of these often questionable and always -inadequate intermediaries?” - -The reason is that, hitherto, no way has been discovered of doing without -them. If we admit the spiritualistic theory, the discarnate spirits -which surround us on every side and which are separated from us by the -impenetrable and mysterious wall of death seek, in order to communicate -with us, the line of least resistance between the two worlds and find -it in the medium, without our knowing why, even as we do not know why -an electric current passes along copper wire and is stopped by glass or -porcelain. If, on the other hand, we admit the telepathic hypothesis, -which is the more probable, we observe that the thoughts, intentions -or suggestions transmitted are, in the majority of cases, not conveyed -from one subconscious intelligence to another. There is need of an -organism that is, at the same time, a receiver and a transmitter; and -this organism is found in the medium. Why? Once more, we know absolutely -nothing about it, even as we do not know why one body or combination of -bodies is sensitive to concentric waves in wireless telegraphy, while -another is not affected by it. We are here groping, as indeed we grope -almost everywhere, in the obscure domain of undisputed but inexplicable -facts. Those who care to possess more precise notions on the theory of -mediumism will do well to read the admirable address delivered by Sir -William Crookes, as president of the S.P.R., on the 29th of January 1897. - -[3] The questions of fraud and imposture are naturally the first that -suggest themselves when we begin to study these phenomena. But the -slightest acquaintance with the life, habits and proceedings of the -three or four leading mediums is enough to remove even the faintest -shadow of suspicion. Of all the explanations conceivable, that one which -attributes everything to imposture and trickery is unquestionably the -most extraordinary and the least probable. Moreover, by reading Richard -Hodgson’s report entitled, _Observations of certain Phenomena of Trance_ -(_Proceedings_, Vols. VIII. and XIII.) and also J. H. Hyslop’s report -(_Proceedings_, Vol. XVI.), we can observe the precautions taken, even -to the extent of employing special detectives, to make certain that Mrs. -Piper, for instance, was unable, normally and humanly speaking, to have -any knowledge of the facts which she revealed. I repeat, from the moment -that one enters upon this study, all suspicions are dispelled without -leaving a trace behind them; and we are soon convinced that the key to -the riddle must not be sought in imposture. All the manifestations of the -dumb, mysterious and oppressed personality that lies concealed in every -one of us have to undergo the same ordeal in their turn; and those which -relate to the divining-rod, to name no others, are at this moment passing -through the same crisis of incredulity. Less than fifty years ago, the -most of the hypnotic phenomena which are now scientifically classified -were likewise looked upon as fraudulent. It seems that man is loth to -admit that there lie within him many more things than he imagined. - -[4] In this and other “communications,” I have quoted the actual English -words employed, whenever I have been able to discover them.—_Translator._ - -[5] _Proceedings_, Vol. XXIII., p. 33. - -[6] _Ibid._ p. 120. - -[7] For a discussion of these cases, which would take us too far from our -subject, see Mr. J. G. Piddington’s paper, _Phenomena in Mrs. Thompson’s -Trance_ (_Proceedings_, Vol. XVIII., pp. 180 _et seq._); also Professor -A. C. Pigou’s article in Vol. XXIII. (_Proceedings_, pp. 286 _et seq._). - -[8] _Proceedings_, Vol. XIII., pp. 349-350 and 375. - -[9] Proceedings, Vols. V. and XI. - -[10] Maxwell, _Metapsychical Phenomena_, p. 202. - -[11] Xenoglossy is well known not to be unusual in automatic writing; -sometimes even the “automatist” speaks or writes languages of which he -is completely ignorant. The Latin and Greek passages are translated as -follows: - -“This is what I have wanted, at last. Justice and joy speak a word to the -wise. A. W. V. and perhaps some one else. Chalk sticking to the feet has -got over the difficulty. You help greatly by always persevering. Now I -can write a name—thus, here it is!” - -[12] _Proceedings_, Vol. XI., p. 493. - -[13] _Proceedings_, Vol. XI., p. 505. - -[14] _Proceedings_, Vol. XI., p. 545. - -[15] A. J. C. KERNER, _Die Seherin von Prevorst_. - -[16] _Light_, 1907, p. 219. The crime was committed in Paris and made a -great stir at the time. - -[17] LADY BURTON, _The Life of Captain Sir Richd. F. Burton. K.C.M.G._, -Vol. I., p. 253. - -[18] _Journal of the Society for Psychical Research_, Vol. IX., p. 15. - -[19] _Proceedings_, Vol. XX., p. 331. - -[20] _Proceedings_, Vol. XIV., p. 266. - -[21] _Proceedings_, Vol. XI., p. 422. - -[22] Flournoy, _Esprits et médiums_, p. 316. - -[23] _Proceedings_, Vol. XI., p. 424. - -[24] _Journal_, Vol. VIII., p. 45. - -[25] _Journal_, Vol. I., p. 283. - -[26] _Memoirs of the Life and Labours of Stephen Grellet_, Vol. I., p. -434. - -[27] This and the later passage from Pericles’ funeral oration I -have quoted from the late Richard Crawley’s admirable translation -of Thucydides’ _Peloponnesian War_ now published in the _Temple -Classics_.—A. T. de M. - -[28] _Kokoro: Hints and Echoes of Japanese Life_, chapter xiv.: “Some -Thoughts about Ancestor-Worship.” - -[29] August, September and October 1915. - - -Edinburgh: T. and A. 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