CHAPTER VII

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THE RESEARCHES OF PROFESSOR THURY

The insufficient explanations of Chevreul and of Faraday, the scientific negations of Babinet, the conscientious experiments of the Count de Gasparin had led several scientists to study the question from the purely scientific point of view. Among them was a highly-gifted savant whom I visited at Geneva,—M. Marc Thury, professor of natural history and of astronomy in the Academy of that city. We are indebted to him for a remarkable and little known monograph,[56] which it is my duty to condense for this volume.

When we were in the presence of new phenomena (writes Thury) there was only one alternative:

First, either to reject, in the name of common sense and of the results acquired by science, all the pretended phenomena of tables as so many childish sports unworthy of taking up the time of the true scientist or scholar, since, on the very face of it, their absurdity is evident; in short, to let the matter drop by refusing to give it serious attention.

Or, second, to make a determined examination of it at whatever cost, to study the fact in its details in order to lay fully open all the sources of illusion by which the public is duped, separate the true from the false, and throw a strong light on all aspects of the phenomenon, physical, physiological, and psychological, in order that the matter may be so superabundantly clear and evident that no further excuse for doubt may remain.

Superfluous to say, the last method is the one adopted by Thury (as it was by Gasparin). He considers it to be the only suitable, efficient, and legitimate method.

Darkness saps the strength of science. Its strongest hold lies in bringing everything out into the full light of day. Here, then, lies the question: In these curious phenomena of the tables, is the explanation so clear that you can lay a finger on the causes of illusion and clearly show that there is in them no new and unknown element at work?

I do not think (replies the Genevan professor) that we have attained to that degree of evidence. I wish only one proof, the explanation of what has already been attempted.

If, then, it is well established that the common explanation is not self-evident, in the eyes of all intelligent and sensible men, there remains a task to do, a duty owed to science,—that of throwing full light upon the phenomenon in question; and this task cannot be exchanged for the easier one of treating with irony or disdain those who have gone astray in the path that Science refused to illuminate.

The savants are, however, excusable for not going too quick (let us admit with Thury).

What! a perturbative force lurking, by the hypothesis, in the human organism sufficiently powerful to lift tables, and which yet had never produced the slightest derangement in the thousands of experiments that physicists are daily making in their laboratories! Their balances, responsive to the weight of a tenth of a milligram, their pendulums whose oscillations take place with mathematical regularity, had never felt the slightest disturbing effect of these forces, whose source is there present wherever there is a man and a volition! Now, it is the ardent wish of the physicist that the experiment shall always exactly tally the forecasts of theory. Must he then admit an unknown disturbing force?

And, even without going outside of the limits of the human organism, think, if the organism is unable to move the smallest part of itself when the part is deprived of muscles and nerves, or, when a single hair of our head is absolutely withdrawn from the influence of the will—think, I say, how much less (and with how much stronger reason) that nervous organism of ours would seem to be able to move inert bodies residing outside the limits of our own frames!

But, if there is a profound improbability in the thing, still, we cannot say that it is impossible. No one can show a priori the impossibility of the phenomena described, as they demonstrate the impossibility of perpetual motion or the squaring of the circle. Consequently, no one has the right to treat as absurd the evidences which tend to confirm the experiments. Provided these evidences are furnished by judicious and truthful men, then they are worth the trouble of examination. If this logical course had been followed—the only true and equitable one,—the work would now have been done, and the learned men would have the glory thereof.

Thury begins by examining the experiments of Count de Gasparin at Valleyres.

The experiments of Valleyres (he writes) tend to establish the two following principles:

1. The will, in a certain condition of the human organism, can act, from a distance, upon inert bodies, and by an agency different from that of muscular action.

2. Under the same conditions, thought can be communicated directly, though unconsciously, from one individual to another.

As long as we were ignorant of any other facts than those resulting from a movement effected by contact with the fingers of the hand, in a way in which the mechanical action of the fingers became possible, the results of the experiments upon the table were always of difficult and doubtful interpretation. These results had to be necessarily based upon an estimate of the mechanical force exerted by the hands compared with the strength of the resistance to be overcome. But the mechanical force of the hands is difficult to measure exactly, under the conditions necessary to produce the phenomena.

Yet over and above that plan of work there remained two methods, of operation to employ.

a. So to dispose the apparatus employed that the movement to be produced shall be one that the mechanical action of the fingers could not compass.

b. To set up movements at a distance without any kind of contact.

The following were our first experiments:

A. Mechanical action rendered impossible. The first experiment attempted along this line gave wholly negative results. We suspended a table by a cord that passed over two pulleys fixed in the ceiling and had a counter-weight attached to the free end. It was easy, by regulating this counterpoise, to balance in the air either the total weight of the table or only a fraction, more or less great, thereof.

As a matter of fact, the table hung almost in equilibrium with the weight, one only of its three legs touching the floor. The operators placed their hands upon the top surface. We acted at first in a circular direction, a disposition of the force the efficacy of which had been established by previous experiments. We then tried in vain to lift the table by detaching it from the floor. No positive result was obtained.

We had already (during the previous year) had a table suspended to a dynamometer, and the efforts of four mesmerizers were powerless to relieve the dynamometer of an appreciable fraction of the weight of the table.

But the conditions necessary for the production of the phenomena were still unknown to us, and, consequently, when the experiments tried led to negative results, we had to try others, without pressing too hastily for inferences and conclusions. It was thus that we secured the results which I am going to describe.

Experiment with the Swinging Table.—We needed a piece of apparatus of such a kind that the mechanical action of the fingers would be rendered impossible. For this purpose we had a table made with a top about 33 inches in diameter, and a central trifurcated leg underneath. This table bore a close resemblance to the one which had served our purposes up to that time, and could turn like its predecessor. Still, the new table was capable of being transformed in a moment into a mechanism such as I shall now describe.

The summit of the tripod becomes the fulcrum of a lever of the first order which is able to balance freely in a vertical plane. This lever, whose two arms are equal to each other and to the radius of the table bears at one of its extremities the table-top, held by the edge, and, toward the other extremity, a counterpoise which just balances the weight of the table, but which can be modified at will. To the under side of the table-top is fastened a leg resting on the floor.

After the necessary preliminary rotations, the table is harnessed up in its second form. Equilibrium is first secured, then 3-5 of a pound is taken from the counterpoise. The force required to lift the top by its centre is then 4 ounces, and previous experiments have proved that the adherence of the fingers of the operators (the top was polished, and not varnished), together with the possible effects of elasticity, form a total lower than that figure. Yet the top is lifted by the action of the fingers placed lightly on its upper surface, at a certain distance from the edge. Then the counterpoise is diminished; the mechanical difficulty of lifting is augmented, yet still it takes place. The weight is again diminished, and more and more, up to the limit of the apparatus. The force necessary to lift the top is then 8 1-5 pounds, and the counterpoise has been relieved of 24 pounds; yet the levitation is easily accomplished. The number of the operators is gradually lessened from eleven to six. The difficulty goes on increasing, yet six operators still suffice; but five are not enough. Six operators lift 9 1-3 pounds,—an average for each man of about 1½ pounds.

We now possess, in the apparatus just described, a gauge or instrument of measurement.

B. The following movements were produced without contact:

The table on which were made the trials I witnessed has a diameter of 32 inches and weighs 31 pounds. An average tangential force of 4 2-5 pounds, which may be raised to 6 3-5 pounds, according to the greater or less inequalities of the floor, applied to the edge of the table, is necessary to give to it a movement of rotation. Ten is usually the number of persons who operate about this table.

In order to assure ourselves of the absence of all contact, we placed our eye on a level with the table in such a way as to see light between our fingers and the surface of the table, the fingers themselves remaining a little less than an inch above the top. Usually, two persons would be observing at once. For instance, M. Edmond Boissier was observing the legs of the table, while I was watching the top. Then we exchanged rÔles. Sometimes two persons took places at the extremities of one and the same diameter, the one opposite the other, for the purpose of watching the top of the table. Several times we saw it move, although we could not detect the slightest touch by the fingers. According to my calculations, it would require the contact of at least 100 fingers, or the light pressure of thirty, acting voluntarily and fraudulently, to explain in terms of mechanics the movements we observed.

Much more frequently still we obtained balancings without contact, balancings which sometimes went so far as to tip the table entirely over. To explain in terms of mechanical movement the effects we observed, we should have to admit the involuntary contact of 84 fingers, or the light pressure of 25, or two hands acting with intent to deceive. But these suppositions, also, are not at all admissible.

Nevertheless, we always felt that someone might present the objection that it was difficult to observe these operations with precision, and we were constantly urging M. Gasparin to convince the doubters and sceptics in the matter of the non-contact of the fingers by means of some mechanical device. Out of this arose the last experiment made at that time, and the most conclusive of all. A light film of flour was almost instantaneously spread over the table by means of a sulphur bellows such as is used in vineyards. The movement of the chain of hands above the table set it whirling. Then the film of flour was examined and found to be inviolate from the touch of hands. Several repetitions on different days always gave the same results.

Such are the principal facts which establish the reality of the phenomenon. Thury next takes up the more difficult investigation of courses.

The Seat of the Force.—It is possible that the force which produces the phenomena is a general telluric force which is merely transmitted by the operators or set in action by them; or, possibly, the force resides in the operators themselves.

To decide this question, we had a large movable platform constructed which revolved on a perfectly vertical axis. Near the outer periphery of the platform stood four chairs, and there was a table at the centre. Four operators, experts in nervo-magnetic action, took their places on the chairs, and, placing their hands on the table in the centre, tried to give it circular movement by non-mechanical power. In fact, the table soon began to move. Then it was stopped and fastened to the platform by means of three screws. The effort exerted upon this table by the four magnetizers was such that, at the end of three-quarters of an hour of experimentation, the central supporting leg, was broken. Yet the movable platform did not turn. The tangential force required to mechanically move the empty platform was only a few grams; loaded with the four operators, 250 grams was necessary, applied about 28 inches from the centre. This figure would have been much less if it had been possible to distribute the weight of the operators uniformly.

The result of this experiment (of June 4, 1853) showed that the force which tends to make the table turn is in the individuals and not in the ground. For the force exerted upon the table tends to draw along the platform with it. If, then, the platform remains motionless, it must be that an equal and contrary force is exerted by the operators. It is therefore in them that the base of the seat of the force resides. If, on the contrary, this force had emanated, wholly or in large part, from the ground, if it had been a force directly telluric, the platform would have turned, the effort which the table exerted upon it being no longer counterbalanced by an equal reaction proceeding from the individuals.

Conditions of the Production and Action of the Force.—I have said that the conditions for the production of the force are little known. In the absence of precise laws, I shall present what has been verified in a greater or less degree in the case of the three following points:

a. Conditions of action relative to the operators.

b. Conditions relative to the objects to be moved.

c. Conditions relative to the mode of action of the operators upon the objects to be moved.

The Will. The first and the most indispensable condition, according to M. Gasparin, is the will of the operator. "Without the will," he says, "we obtain nothing; we might sit there in chain twenty-four hours in succession without getting the slightest movement." Farther on, the author speaks, it is true, of unexpected movements different from those which the will prescribes; but it is evident that he is referring to a necessary combination of prescribed movements and external resistances, the effective movements being the resultant of those that have been willed and of forces of resistance developed in external objects. In short, the will is always the prime mover and originator.

Nothing, it is true, in the experiments at Valleyres gave any authority for believing that it could be otherwise than this. But it is also certain that this purely negative result, or provisional generalization, deduced from a limited number of experiments,—cannot invalidate the results of experiments inconsistent with those, in case such should exist. In other words, the will may ordinarily be necessary, without always being so. Similarly, contact is ordinarily necessary, and always has been so with a large number of operators, without, however, giving them the right to conclude that contact is the indispensable condition of the phenomenon, and that the different results obtained at Valleyres were only illusions or error.

Since we are dealing here with a point of capital importance, I shall take the liberty of stating with some detail circumstances which seem opposed to the thesis maintained by M. Gasparin. These facts, or data, have as guarantee the testimony of a man whom I should like to be able to name, because his scientific culture and his character are known of all men. It was in his house and under his eyes that the events took place which I am going to relate.

At the time when everyone was amusing himself with making tables turn and speak, or in directing the motions of lead-pencils, fixed in movable sockets, over sheets of paper, the children of the house amused themselves several times with this sport. At first, the responses obtained were such that you could see in them a reflex of the unconscious thought of the operators, a "dream of waking performers." Soon, however, the character of the replies seemed to change. It seemed as if what they revealed could hardly have emanated from the mind of the young interrogators. Finally, there was such an opposition to the commands given that M. N., uncertain as to the true nature of these manifestations in which a will different from the human will seemed to appear, forbade their being called forth again. From that time forth, sockets and table rested undisturbed.

A week had scarcely rolled by, after the events just narrated, when a child of the family, he who had formerly succeeded best in the table experiments, became the actor, or the instrument, in strange phenomena. The boy was receiving a piano-lesson, when a low noise sounded in the instrument, and it was shaken and displaced in such a way that pupil and teacher closed it in haste and left the room. On the next day, M. N., who had been informed of what had happened, was present at the lesson, given at the same time,—namely, when the dusk was coming on. At the end of five or ten minutes he heard a noise in the piano difficult to define, but which was certainly the kind of sound one would expect a musical instrument to produce. There was something about it musical and metallic. Soon after, the two front legs of the piano (which weighed over six hundred and sixty pounds) were lifted up a little from the floor. M. N. went to one end of the instrument and tried to lift it. At one time it had its ordinary weight, which was more than the strength of M. N. could manage; at another, it seemed as if it had no longer any weight at all, and opposed not the least resistance to his efforts. Since the interior noises were becoming more and more violent, the lesson was brought to a close, for fear the instrument might suffer some damage. The lesson was changed to the morning and given in another room situated on the ground floor. The same phenomena took place, and the piano, which was lighter than the one up-stairs, was lifted up much more; that is to say, to a height of several inches. M. N. and a young man nineteen years old tried leaning with all their might on the corners of the piano which were rising. Then one of two things happened: either their resistance was in vain, and the piano continued to rise, or else the music-stool on which the child sat moved rapidly back as if pushed or jerked.

If occurrences like that had only taken place once we might think that the child or the persons present were laboring under some illusion. But they were repeated a great number of times, for a fortnight, in the presence of different witnesses. Then, one day, a violent manifestation took place, and thenceforth no unusual event occurred in the house. At first, it was in the morning and in the evening that these perturbations manifested themselves; then, invariably at any and all hours, they occurred every time the child took his seat at the piano, after five or ten minutes of playing. The phenomena happened only with this boy, although there were others present (musicians); and it made no difference which of the pianos in the house he used.

I saw these instruments. The smaller, on the ground floor, is a rectangular horizontal piano. According to my calculations, a force of about 165 pounds applied to the edge of the case, beneath the key-board, is necessary to lift this piano as it was lifted by the unknown force. The instrument in the first story of the house is a heavy Erard piano, weighing, with the packing-box in which it was sent, 812 pounds, as stated in the way-bill, which I myself saw. According to my approximate calculations a pressure of 440 pounds is required to lift this piano, under the same conditions as the first was lifted.

I do not think that anyone will be tempted to attribute to the direct muscular effort of a child eleven years old the lifting up a weight of 440 pounds.[57] A lady who had attributed the effect produced to the action of the knees passed her own hand between the edge of the piano and the knees of the child, and was thus able to convince herself that her explanation had no foundation in fact. Even when the child got upon his knees upon the piano-stool to play, he did not find that the perturbations he dreaded ceased any the more.

These authenticated facts of Professor Thury are at once precise and formidable. What! two pianos rise from the floor and jump about! What do the physicists, the chemists, the learned pedants in office need, then, to arouse them from their torpor and make them shake their ears and open their eyes? What shall be done to remove their noble and pharisaical indolence?

But, happen what may, no one is occupying himself with the fascinating problem as stated, except scattered investigators who are freed from the fear of ridicule and are aware of the exact value of the human race, in large and small, and the worth of its judgments.

M. Thury next discusses the explanation based on "the will."

Did this boy (he says) will what took place, as the theory of M. de Gasparin would require us to admit? According to the boy's testimony, which we believe to be wholly true, he did not will it; he seemed to be visibly annoyed by what occurred; it disturbed his custom of industriously practicing his lesson and offended his taste for regularity and order, a thing well known to his intimates. My personal conviction is that we positively cannot admit, in the case of this lad, a conscious will, a settled design, to produce these strange occurrences. But it is known that sometimes we have a double personality, and one of them converses with the other (as in dreams); that our nature then unconsciously desires what it does not will, and that between will and desire there is only a difference in degree rather than in kind. It would be necessary to have recourse to explanations of this kind,—too subtle, perhaps,—in order to square these piano-facts with the theory of M. Gasparin; and it would still be necessary to modify and enlarge the facts if you admit that even unconscious desire suffices, in the absence of the expressed will. There is, then, reason for doubt on this essential point. That is the sole deduction that I wish to draw from the events I have related.

This levitation, equivalent to an effort exerted of 440 pounds, has its scientific value. But how could the will, conscious or unconscious, lift a piece of furniture of that weight? By an unknown force which we are obliged to recognize.

Preliminary Action.—Power is developed by action. The rotations prepare for the tippings and the levitations. The rotations and the tippings, with contact, seem to develop the force necessary to produce the rotations and tippings without contact. In their turn, the rotations and the tippings without contact prepare for the production of true levitations, such as those of the swinging table; and the persons who have this latent force awaked in them are better fitted to appeal to it a second time.

There is, then, a gradual preparation required, at least for the majority of operators. Does this preparation consist in a modification that takes place in the operator, or in the inert body on which he acts, or in both? In order to resolve this problem, experimenters who had been practicing at one table went over to another, operating on which they found their full power unabated. The preparation therefore consists in a modification that takes place in the individuals, and not in the inert body.[58] This modification occurring in individuals is dissipated rather rapidly, especially when the chain of experimenters is broken.

Inner Development of the Operators.—It is only after a certain period of waiting that the operators, who have not so far acted, cause even the easiest movement,—that of rotation with contact. It is during this time that the force, or the conditions determining the manifestation of the force, develop themselves. From that time on, the developed force has nothing to do but to increase. That which takes place, therefore, in this time of waiting, is a very important thing to be considered. We already know that it is the operators themselves who are modified. But what is it that takes place within them?

It must be that a kind of activity is set up in the organism, an activity which ordinarily requires the intervention of the will. This activity, this work, is accompanied by a certain fatigue. The action is not aroused in all operators with equal ease and promptness. There are even persons (the author estimates their number at one in ten) in whom it appears that it cannot be produced at all.

In the midst of this great diversity of natural aptitudes, it is observed that children "can secure obedience from the table just like grown folks." Nevertheless, children do not magnetize. Thus, although several facts seem to show that magnetizers (or mesmerizers) have frequently a strong power over the tables, yet one cannot admit the identity of magnetic power and power over the tables; the one is not the measure of the other. Only, the magnetic power would constitute (or presume) a favorable subjective condition.A will simple and strong, animation, high spirits, the concentration of the thought upon the work to do, good bodily health, perhaps the very physical act of turning around the table, and, finally, everything that can contribute to unity of will-power among the experimenters,—all these things help to make efficacious the commands addressed to the table with force and authority.

The tables (says M. de Gasparin) "wish to be handled gaily, freely, with animation and confidence; they must be humored at the start with amusing and easy exercises." The first condition necessary for success with the table is good health and the second, confidence.

Among unfavorable circumstances, on the other hand, must be reckoned a state of nervous tension; fatigue; a too passionate interest; a mind anxious, preoccupied or distracted.

The tables—M. de Gasparin further says, in his metaphorical language—"detest folks who quarrel, either as their opponents or as their friends." "As soon as I took too deep an interest, I ceased to command obedience." "If it happened that I desired success too ardently, and showed impatience at delay, I no longer had any power of action on the table." "If the tables encounter preoccupied minds or nervous excitement, they go into a sulking mood." "If you are touchy, over-anxious ... you can't do anything of any value." "In the midst of distractions, chatterings, pleasantries, the operators infallibly lose all their power." Away with salon experiments!

Must one have faith? It is not necessary; but confidence in the result predisposes to a larger endowment of power in the sÉance of the occasion. It does not suffice to have faith there are persons who have faith and good will, yet with whom power of action is altogether wanting.

Muscular force or nervous susceptibility do not seem to play any rÔle.

Meteorological conditions have seemed to exercise some influence, probably by acting upon the physique and the spirits of the operators. Thus fine weather, dry and warm weather (but not a suffocating heat) act favorably.

The especially efficacious influence of dry heat upon the surface of the table[59] will perhaps receive a different explanation.

Unconscious Muscular Action, produced during an especially Nervous Condition.—So long as only movements with contact were known, in which the movement observed was one of those which muscular action might produce, explanations based on the hypothesis of unconscious muscular action were certainly sufficient and much more probable than all the other explanations which had been up to that time proposed.

From this point of view (entirely physiological) it is settled that we must distinguish between the effort which a muscle exerts and the consciousness we have of this effort. It will be remembered that there exist in the human organism a great number of muscles that habitually exert considerable effort without our being in the slightest degree aware of it. It has been pointed out that muscles exist whose contractions are perceptible by us in a certain state of the system and unperceived in another state. It is therefore conceivable that the muscles of our limbs might as an exceptional thing, exhibit the same phenomenon. The preparation for the movement of the table, the special kind of reaction that takes place at this interval of waiting, put the nervous system into a particular condition in which certain muscular movements may take place in an unconscious manner.

But, evidently, this theory is not sufficient to account for movements without contact, nor those that take place in such a way that muscular action could not produce them. It is therefore these two classes of movements which must serve as the basis of new experiments and as the foundation of a new theory.

How also explain the very peculiar and truly inconceivable character of the movements of the table?—this starting to move, so insensible, so gentle, so different from the abruptness characteristic of the impetus given by mechanical force; these levitations so spontaneous, so energetic, which leap up to meet the hands; these dances and imitations of music which you would in vain attempt to equal by means of the combined and voluntary action of the operators; these little raps succeeding the loud ones, when the command is given, the exquisite delicacy of which nothing can express. Several times when someone asked a so-called spirit his age, one of the legs of the centre-table lifted up and rapped 1, 2, 3, etc. Then the movement was accelerated. Finally, the three legs beat a kind of drum-roll so rapid that it was impossible to count, and which the most skilful could never succeed in imitating. On another occasion, under the contact of hands, the table was turning upon three legs, upon two, upon a single one; and, in this last position, changed feet, throwing its weight first upon one and then upon another with great ease, and with nothing abrupt or jerky in its motions. Neither the experimenters nor their most eminent opponents would ever be able to imitate mechanically this dance of the table, and, above all, the whirling pirouettes and changes of feet.

Electricity.—Many have tried to explain the movements of tables by electricity. Even supposing that they involve the very abundant production of this agent, no known effect of electricity would account for the movement of the tables. But, in fact, it is easy to show that there is no electricity produced; for, when a galvanometer was interposed in the chain, no deviation of the needle took place. The electrometer remains as indifferent to the solicitations of the tables as does the mariner's compass.

Nervo-magnetism.—There is certainly some analogy between several phenomena of nervo-magnetism and those of the tables. Those passes which seem to favor balancing without contact; the motion imparted by the chain to this man whom they cause to turn about (unless, indeed, there is in this some effect of the imagination); finally, the power that many mesmerizers exert over the tables—all this seems to indicate a kinship between the two orders of phenomena. But, since the laws of nervo-magnetism are little known, there is no conclusion to be drawn from this, and it seems to me preferable, for the present, to study separately the phenomena of tables, which are better adapted to the experiments of the physicist, and which, well studied, will render more service to nervo-magnetism than it could receive in a long time from this obscure branch of physiology.

Thury next touches upon M. de Gasparin's theory of fluidic action. Being certain that he accurately understands this theory, he gives a rÉsumÉ of it in the following items:

1. A fluid is produced by the brain, and flows along the nerves.

2. This fluid can go beyond the limits of the body; it can be emitted.

3. Under the influence of the will, it can move hither and thither.

4. This fluid acts upon inert bodies; yet it shuns contact with certain substances, such as glass.

5. It lifts the parts toward which it moves, or in which it accumulates.

6. It further acts upon inert bodies by attraction or by repulsion, with a tendency to either join or separate the inert body and the organism.

7. It can also determine interior movements in matter, and give rise to noises.

8. This fluid is especially produced and developed by turning, and by the will, and by the joining of hands in a certain manner.

9. It is communicated from one person to another by vicinage or by contact. Yet certain persons impede its communication.

10. We have no knowledge of special movements of the fluid, which are determined by the will.

11. This fluid is probably identical with the nervous fluid and with the nervo-magnetic fluid.

Application.—Rotation is a resultant of the action of the fluid and of the resistances of the wood.

Tipping results from the accumulation of the fluid in the leg of the table which is lifted.The glass placed in the middle of the table stops the movement because it drives away the fluid.

The glass placed on one side of the table makes the opposite side rise because the fluid, fleeing from the glass, accumulates there.

Thury does not attempt the discussion of this theory. But we may repeat with Gasparin, "When you shall have explained to me how I lift my hand, I will explain to you how I cause the leg of the table to rise."

The whole problem lies in that,—the action of mind on matter. We must not dream that we can give a final solution of it at the present time. To reduce the new facts to conformity with the old ones; that is to say, to relate the action of mind upon inert bodies outside of us to the action of mind upon the matter in our bodies—such is the only problem which the science of to-day can reasonably propose to itself. Thury states it in general terms as follows:

General Question of the Action of Mind upon Matter.—We shall seek to formulate the results of experiment up to the point where experiment abandons us. From there on we shall study all the alternatives offered to our mind, as simple possibilities, some of which will give place to hypotheses explanatory of the new phenomena.

First principle: In the ordinary state of the body, the will acts directly only in the sphere of the organism.—Matter belonging to the external world is modified on contact with the organism, and the modifications which it undergoes gradually produce others by contiguity. It is thus that we can act upon objects at a distance from us. Our action at a distance upon all that surrounds us is mediate and not immediate. We believe that this is true of the action of all physical forces, such as gravity, heat, electricity. Their effect is gradually communicated, and thus alone they put distance behind them and come into relation with man as a sentient being.

Second principle: In the organism itself there is a series of mediate acts.—Thus the will does not act directly upon the bones which receive the movement of the muscles; nor does the will modify any more directly the muscles, since, when deprived of nerves, they are incapable of movement. Does the will act directly upon the nerves? It is a mooted question whether it modifies them directly or indirectly. Thus the substance upon which the soul immediately acts is still undetermined. The substance may be solid, may be fluid; it may be a substance still unknown, or perhaps a particular state of known substances. In order to avoid a circumlocution, let me give it a name. I shall call it the psychode (????, soul, and ?d??, way).

Third principle: The substance upon which the mind immediately acts—the psychode—is only susceptible of very simple modifications under the influence of the mind, for, since the movements are to be somewhat varied, an extensive and complicated apparatus appears in the organism,—a whole system of muscles, vessels, nerves, etc., which are wanting in the inferior animals (among whom movements are very simple), and which would have been unnecessary had matter been directly susceptible of modifications equally varied under the influence of mind. When movements are intended to be very simple (as in the case of infusoria) the complicated apparatus is wanting and the life-spirit acts upon matter that is almost homogeneous.

The following four hypotheses regarding the psychode may be formed:

a. The psychode is a substance peculiar to the organism, and not capable of emerging from it. It acts only mediately upon everything outside of the visible organism.

b. The psychode is a substance peculiar to the organism, capable of extending beyond the limits of the visible organism under certain special conditions. The modifications it receives necessarily act upon other inert bodies. The will acts upon the psychode, and thus mediately, upon the bodies that the sphere of this substance embraces.

c. The psychode is a universal substance which is conditioned in its action on other inert bodies by the structure of living organisms, or by a certain state of inorganic bodies—a state determined by the influence of living organisms in certain special conditions.d. The psychode is a peculiar state of matter, a state habitually produced within the sphere of the organism, but which may also be produced beyond its limits under the influence of a certain state of the organism,—an influence comparable to that of magnets in the phenomena of diamagnetism.

Thury proposes the adjective ecteneic (from ??t??e?a, extension) to describe that special state of the organism in which the mind can, in some measure, extend the habitual limits of its action, and he styles "ecteneic force" that which is developed in this state.

The first hypothesis (he adds) would not be at all adapted to explain the phenomena with which we are concerned. But the three others give rise to three different explanations, in which (he assures us) the greater part of the phenomena investigated will be comprised.

Explanations based upon the Intervention of Spirits.—M. de Gasparin has shown the error of all these explanations:

1. By theological considerations.

2. By the very just remark that we should not resort to explanations which introduce spirits into the problem until other interpretations have been proved to be entirely insufficient.

3. Finally, by physical considerations.

Looking at the question here solely from the general physical point of view, I do not follow M. de Gasparin (says Thury) in his exploitation of theological explanations. As to the second, I will only call attention to the suggestion that the sufficiency of explanations purely physical should strictly apply only to the Valleyres experiments, where, in truth, nothing gives evidence of the intervention of wills other than the human will.

The question of the intervention of spirits might be decided from the tenor or content of the revelations, in any case in which this content would be such as evidently could not have originated in the human mind. It is not my intention to discuss this point. The present study takes cognizance solely of movements of inert bodies, and we have only to consider, among the arguments of M. de Gasparin, those which are included in this field of view.

Now, his arguments on this point seem to me to be all summed up in these slightly ironical lines: "Strange spirits! ... whose presence or absence could depend upon a rotation, depend upon cold or warmth, or health or disease, on high spirits or lassitude, on an unskilful company of unconscious magicians! I have the headache or the grip, therefore the daemonic beings will not be able to appear to-day."

M. de Mirville, who believes in spirits who manifest themselves through the agency of the fluid, might reply to Gasparin that the conditions of the ostensible manifestation of spirits are perhaps the fluidic state itself; that if this is so, we might very well, in a sÉance phenomenon, have a fluidic manifestation without the intervention of spirits, but not the intervention of spirits without a preliminary fluidic manifestation, and that, thus, anyone will invite such manifestation only at his own risk and peril.

Thury next discusses how the question of spirits ought to be considered.

The task of science (he writes) is to bear witness to the truth. It cannot do so if it borrows a part of its data from revelation or from tradition; to do this would be a begging of the question, and the testimony of science would become worthless.

The facts of the natural order are connected with two categories of forces, the one that of necessity, the other that of freedom. To the first belong the general forces of gravitation, heat, light, electricity, and the vegetative force. It is possible that we may discover others some day; but at present they are the only ones we know. To the second category belong solely the mind of animals and that of man. These are truly forces, since they are the cause of movements and of various phenomena in the physical world.Experience instructs us that these mental forces manifest themselves by the intermediary of special organisms, very complex in the case of man and the superior animals, but simple in that of the lowest, among which latter class mind has no need of muscles and nerves in order to manifest itself externally, but seems to act directly upon a homogeneous matter, the movements of which it determines (the amoeba of Ehrenberg). It is in these elementary organizations that the problem of the action of mind on matter is stated, after a fashion, in its simplest terms.

When once we have admitted the existence of the will as distinct, at least in principle, from the material body, it becomes solely a question of experience to ascertain whether other wills than that of man and the animals play any rÔle whatever, frequent or occasional, on the stage of life. If these wills exist, they will have some means or other of manifestation, with which experience alone can make us acquainted. As a matter of fact, all that it is possible to affirm, a priori, is that, in order to appear, they must manifest themselves through some one of the forms of the eternal substance we call matter. But, to say that this matter must necessarily have an organization of muscles, nerves, etc., would be to hold to a very narrow idea, and one already belied by observation of the animal kingdom in its lower types. As long as we do not know what the bond is that unites the mind to the matter in which it manifests itself, it would be perfectly illogical to lay down, a priori, particular conditions which matter must observe in this manifestation. These conditions are at present wholly undetermined. Thus we are at liberty to seek for signs of these manifestations in the cosmic ether or in ponderable matter; in the gases, the liquids, or the solids; in unorganized matter, or particularly in matter already organized, such as that of which man and the animals are built up. It would be poor logic to affirm that other wills than those of men and animals cannot be discovered, on the ground that, heretofore, nothing of the kind has been seen; for facts of this kind may have been observed, but not scientifically elucidated and authenticated. Furthermore these wills might appear only at long intervals, or what seem long to us; but the vast abysses of nature's epochs are not to be spanned by our little memories or measured by the momentary duration of our lives.

Such are the facts and the ideas set forth in this conscientious monograph of Professor Thury. It is easily seen that, in his opinion (1) the phenomena are positive facts; (2) that they are produced by an unknown substance, to which he gives the name psychode, a something that, by the hypothesis, exists in us and serves as the intermediary between the mind and the body, between the will and the organs, and can project itself beyond the limits of the body; (3) that the hypothesis of spirits is not absurd, and that there may exist in this world other wills than those of man and the animals, wills capable of acting on matter.

Professor Marc Thury died in 1905, having devoted his entire life to the study of the exact sciences. His specialty was astronomy.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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