The spirit-rapper; an autobiography
phenomena are seldom if ever men of real science, well known, and of
name in the scientific world?”
“I thought you were one of those who would not admit authority even in
matters of faith, and yet you demand authority in matters of science,”
replied Mr. Merton, in a tone slightly sarcastic. “You would have the
French Academy, for instance, in science what Rome claims to be in
religion, and admit a historical fact or a scientific conclusion only on
academic authority.”
“But you know,” replied Jack, “that scientific commissions appointed to
investigate and report on particular cases in France, never succeed in
getting a sight of those marvellous facts which are so readily exhibited
to others. Is not this a suspicious circumstance?”
“Not in my mind,” replied Mr. Merton. “Your learned academicians
generally commence their investigations with the persuasion that all
facts of the kind alleged are impossible, and they seldom pay attention
to the actual phenomena passing before them. They are busy only with
their scepticism, and do not see what really takes place. Their study is
simply how to explain away the phenomena they do see, without admitting
their supernatural or superhuman character. Lawyers are said to be the
worst witnesses in the world. Academicians are the very worst people in
the world to observe facts. I would trust, in what depends on the
senses, a plain, honest, unscientific peasant, much quicker than I would
an Arago or a Babinet, for he has no theory to disturb him, no
conclusion to establish or refute. The science of all your learned
academies is infidel in regard to religion. Babinet, of the Institute,
has just written an Essay in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, in which he
pronounces the phenomena alleged by our recent spiritists impossible,
because they contradict the laws of gravitation. Poor man! he reasons as
if the phenomena repugnant to the laws of gravitation are supposed to be
produced by it, or at least without a power that overcomes it. Why, the
very marvellousness of the phenomenon is that it is contrary to the law
of gravitation; and because it is contrary to the law of gravitation, we
infer that it is preternatural. The learned member of the Institute
argues that the fact is impossible, because it would be preternatural,
and the preternatural is impossible, because the preternatural would be
preternatural! When I see a man raised, without any visible means, to
the ceiling, and held there by his feet with his head downwards for half
an hour or more without a visible support, I do not pretend that it is
in accordance with the law of gravitation, but the essence of the fact
is precisely in that it is not. Now, to deny the fact for that reason,
is to say that the law of gravitation cannot be overcome or suspended,
and precisely to beg the question. When I throw a stone into the air, my
force, in some sense, overcomes that of gravitation. How does M. Babinet
know that there are not invisible powers who can take a man and hold him
up with his feet to the ceiling, or a table, as easily as I can a little
child? The fact of the rising of a table or a man to the ceiling is one
that is easily verified by the senses, and if attested by witnesses of
ordinary capacity and credibility, must be admitted. That it is contrary
to the law of gravitation, proves not that it is impossible, but that it
is possible only preternaturally. It would be a real relief to find a
distinguished academician who had learned practically the elements of
logic.
“The devils, again,” continued Mr. Merton, “may not choose to exhibit
their superhuman powers before your scientific commissions. It might be
against their interest. He is sure of the commissioners as long as he
can keep them in their scepticism; but were he to suffer them to escape
it, he might lose them. Compelled to acknowledge the existence of Satan,
they might go further and acknowledge that of Christ, and become
Christians, and labor to harmonize science with faith. Even God himself
may choose to let them remain in their scepticism as a just punishment
of their intellectual pride, their indocility, and their preferring
their own darkness to his light. They take pleasure in sin, and he gives
them up to their own delusions, and permits them to believe a lie, that
they may be damned, as they deserve, for their sins. The malice, the
cunning, the astuteness, the caprice of the devils, the prepossessions
of the scientific, and the purposes of God are amply sufficient to
account for the fact that these commissions never succeed in witnessing
the preternatural or superhuman phenomena said to be witnessed by
others.”
“But how am I,” asked Jack, “to believe that a poor old crone, who is
half dying of starvation, is in league with the devil? Why does she not
make use of her power to procure decent clothing and maintenance?”
“The devil is by no means a trustworthy or a kind and generous friend.
He is a philanthropist, and never relieves the suffering under his nose,
or cares for that of individuals.”
“I have read,” Jack went on, “a great many witch stories, and
descriptions of witch feasts, and I cannot discover what there is in
them to attach these hell-cats to their alleged orgies. I came across,
yesterday, an account of the witches’ sabbath. I can conceive nothing
more absurd, ridiculous, or rather disgusting. The acquaintances of the
devil generally represent him as respectable at least for his intellect,
and many insist that he is a gentleman. But if all accounts are true, he
is very low and vulgar in his tastes, has very little sense of dignity,
and is in fact a very shabby fellow. In these orgies he appears, it is
said, sometimes in the form of a big negro, more generally under the
form of a black ram with immense horns, and in that form is very
indecently kissed and worshipped by Mesdames the witches. We know from
Tam O’Shanter that on these occasions there is much fiddling and
dancing, but I cannot conceive how there can be much pleasure. The whole
scene is fitted only to turn one’s stomach.”
“There is no doubt of that,” replied Mr. Merton. “The devil and his
worshippers certainly cut a very sorry figure in these nocturnal orgies,
as they are represented; but I am not certain that that should be
regarded as good ground of scepticism. I never understood that the devil
was a _clean_ spirit, and I should naturally expect some degree of
filthiness in his worshippers. You must know something of the sins or
moral diseases of mankind. Has it not sometimes occurred to you that
some apparently very respectable people,—people who go well dressed and
wear clean linen,—under the influence of their passions, acting out
their natures, cut, to an impartial spectator, about as sorry a figure
as Master Leonard and his witches? In the eyes of Infinite Holiness, I
am inclined to think there is much that passes in refined and cultivated
society that does not appear at all more clean and respectable than do
these nocturnal orgies in yours. I do not vouch for the correctness of
the popular descriptions of these orgies, but they are in accordance
with the well known principles of depraved nature. The indulgence of any
of our morbid passions degrades us; and in following our lusts, there is
no beastliness which is not for the moment charming to us. How much
more, then, when to our natural passions, rendered morbid by indulgence,
is added the superhuman influence of unclean spirits! The sensualist
lives constantly in a state as disgusting as ever the nocturnal orgies
of witches were represented to be. It is the law of all vice to descend,
and consequently, the more intimate we are with the devil, only the more
rapid and deep is our descent. The moral of the witches’ orgies is true,
whether the particular descriptions be or not. He who takes the devil
for God, must expect to have hell for his heaven.”
“The academicians are right,” I remarked, “in telling us that the whole
of the alleged _diablerie_ is all a delusion or an imposition.”
“Not precisely in their sense, however,” interrupted Mr. Merton. “The
whole is unquestionably a delusion, a sheer imposture, but of the devil,
not always of man. The devil promises according to the respective
inclinations of his servants—to some riches and honors, to some sensual
pleasures, to others power, dominion over men, and the secrets of
nature. I doubt not that he knows more than men, but he can never be
relied on, for he so mingles his lies with the truth, that we cannot
separate the one from the other.”
“That is true,” I remarked; “and those secrets he promises we never
gain. We grow proud, we assume airs, we feel that we are making
marvellous discoveries; we talk large, use big swelling words, and seem
to penetrate the secret of the universe; but we have only clutched at
the air, and when we open our hand, it is empty. We had made no advance,
we had found no vein of knowledge; and when the spell was broken, we
found ourselves weaker and more ignorant than ever. The fairy gold was
chips and stubble. The palace of wisdom we saw before us, and in which
we proposed to live with the Sultan’s fair daughter, disappears, carries
her away in it, and leaves us only empty space. I well remember some of
my early aspirations. I thought I was illumined by a more than natural
light. The clouds rolled back before my searching glance; the darkness
disappeared; there was no dread Unknown to confront me; I rose to the
empyrean; I was all intelligence; I looked, as a lady of my acquaintance
expressed it, ‘into the very abyss of Being.’ Yet it was all illusion—a
devilish illusion—and my understanding was all the time darkened, and my
eyes closed to the plainest and most obvious truths before me.”
“It was a deception practised upon you—a deception practised alike upon
all who would attain to a forbidden knowledge, or to knowledge by ways
not permitted by the Supreme Intelligence—upon the Neoplatonists, the
Gnostics, the Transcendentalists, and false mystics of every age,” added
Mr. Merton. “The light we hail in those forbidden ways or aspirations,
is the light which we see when our eyes are shut. It is a preternatural
hallucination, and he who follows it is sure not only to go astray, but
to fall into the greatest absurdities, and to utter the most ridiculous
nonsense.”
“The same principle,” I added, “is true with regard to the promised
power over men. These Satanic revolutions, and the terrible doings of
our revolutionary Berserkirs, all prove failures in the end. Cromwell
supplants Hampden, and Napoleon Lafayette. The devil always leaves us in
the lurch.”
“This fact should be borne in mind,” added Mr. Merton, “and if so, might
save the world from much superstition. The superstition is not in
believing in the reality of demonic invasions, or in believing that the
devil sometimes exhibits a superhuman power, tells us, in dreams,
visions, necromancy, or other forms of divination, facts of which we
were ignorant; but in practising these forms, in confiding in the
communications, and in seeking to avail ourselves of the power
displayed. No reliance can ever be placed upon them, for supposing the
demonic presence real, we have still only a lying spirit on which to
depend. The dream of yesternight has come true, that of to-night will
prove false. The _medium_ you consulted the other day foretold correctly
what was to happen; to-day her familiar spirit is a lying spirit, and
her tale is false in all its parts. The predictions of the
fortune-teller last year have been fulfilled; his predictions of to-day
are a tissue of lies. If Ahab goes up to battle, he shall not die; yet
is shot by a bow drawn at a venture. To trust in these things is gross
superstition, and tends only to degrade, to render immoral, weak, timid,