Possession, Demoniacal And Other

by T K Oesterreich

  These morbid manifestations are connected with the prevailing superstitions of the country: the supernatural affection is a consequence of witchcraft; the demon enters into the body of his victim where he works a spell and brings on the various symptoms of the Ikóta. Wizards can produce all sorts of maladies notably madness, but the Ikóta is particularly communicated to married women and the most propitious day is the bridal day. In order to effect a cure the offices of another wizard are necessary, together with pilgrimages and prayers. But usually the possessed continues to suffer from the same fits until an advanced age.

  In the majority of cases the somatic stigmata of hysteria are not found, nor is the so-called hysterical character. A very close pathogenic connection exists between the form of the morbid condition and the superstitious idea; all the other etiological factors (natural conditions of nourishment, mode of life, etc.) may be ruled out.

  This malady clearly consists in epidemic hysterical attacks with the extremely complex somatic symptomatology proper to the hysterical form of demoniacal possession, or hystero-demonopathy.1

  I have it from a reliable Russian source that there is known throughout the rest of Russia a malady of the name of ikóta or klikúschestvo. It generally consists in a peculiar prolonged and obviously obsessive hiccupping (ikóta means nothing more than hiccupping), but may, in more serious cases, come to neighings, bleatings or other animal cries. The victims are also constrained to shout insults and use filthy words, and are subject to twitchings and contractions, wild writhings upon the ground, etc. In short, the picture is exactly the same as that offered by the possessed of western Europe. The malady affects only or almost exclusively women and is very common. It is considered as a form of possession. Naturally it only attacks the uneducated lower classes and is even characteristic of the particularly ignorant peasantry; it is a peasant woman’s and not a townswoman’s complaint. In other words, possession which is already almost considered as extinct in central and western Europe, is still very prevalent in Russia where it may readily be observed in vivo. We may confidently prophesy that its days there are also numbered; as the ideas more prevalent in the towns spread to the steppes it will rapidly retreat in a few decades, provided obviously that the general ideas of to-day concerning the life of the mind continue in the future to follow the same paths as heretofore and that a wave of spiritualism does not spread over the earth inclining it once more to belief in the existence of true possession. In such a case the remains of the old European demonology could hardly maintain their present rate of retreat.

  The autosuggestive character of the ikóta is clearly attested by the manner in which this state is cured: by holy pictures, the exercises of the Church, the putting on of harness, or finally by immersion in holy-water on the day of the Epiphany.2

  The German newspapers report the following recent case of possession from Russia.

  Batjushka Joann Kronstadtski is an illustrious Russian priest whom the orthodox population regard as a saint. Belief in the miraculous power of his prayers is so widespread that there is a constant stream of men moving towards Kronstadt to seek in prayer with the holy priest the cure of infirmities and help in need. His self-abnegation and the force of his personality, radiating confidence and hope, make this priest a phenomenon far beyond the ordinary. According to the St. Petersburg Gazette the metropolitan police headquarters have had intelligence of the following case. A short time ago a sick woman arrived in Petersburg. Her malady manifested itself in the fact, for example, that on hearing the church bells wherever she might be she at once fell down, began to cry out in a wild and terrible voice and was bathed in sweat. The same befell her every time a church procession took place, and from these signs her sickness was judged to be possession. She suffered from it for three years, all the while losing strength, to such an extent that her relations decided to have recourse to the last hope: to solicit the prayers of Father Joann of Kronstadt for the sufferer. To this end she was brought to St. Petersburg where on the 14th of March Father Joann celebrated the liturgy. During the administration of the Lord’s Supper to the congregation she was led up to communicate also. She was immediately overcome by a fit, uttered cries, tore her face, and three strong men had to hold her. The priest Joann placed his hand on the sick woman, fixed on her a steadfast look and said in a loud and firm voice: “In the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ I command thee, Satan, to come forth!” The priest repeated these words several times. In the church, filled with devout worshippers, fell a deep silence. Nothing was heard except the words of power of the revered father: “Come forth, and come quickly!” Then the possessed uttered inarticulate cries and called out: “I am coming forth immediately!” This lasted for about three minutes. Then the cries ceased and the sick woman, shut-eyed and gasping, fell into the arms of those accompanying her. Father Joann turned towards her and said three times: “Open your eyes!” The sick woman executed the command slowly and with great effort. The father furthermore commanded her several times to cross herself. The first time she did it with a struggle, but afterwards more easily. After putting several questions to the woman the father gave orders to release her, saying: “Leave her, she is now completely cured!” and offered her the holy communion which she piously accepted. Later he caused her to be led forward once more and told her that she might thank God and remain in good health. This marvellous cure made the most profound impression on those present.1

  From Slavonic Russia we shall now pass to eastern European Judaism. There too possession does not seem rare even to-day. Given the insistence on orthodox outlook which still persists in Russian Jewry together with marked exclusiveness towards the outside world, it is really not surprising that amongst these people, who represent as it were a survival of bygone antiquity within the modern world, possession should be far more prevalent than in western Europe.

  We possess an interesting narrative from a former member of the Russian ghetto, Jacob Fromer,1 a Russo-Polish Jew, who was granted German nationality at the special request of the last German Emperor. In his autobiography, extremely interesting in other respects also, he gives us a sort of companion-picture to that of Solomon Maimon who shared his fate, a remarkable description of possession in the Polish ghetto:

  … A crowd assembled. “The dibbuk (possessed) is coming.’’ A big, strong girl with disordered hair and an agitated face was rather dragged than led in by men and women. She begged to be taken back to the house and reiterated incessantly “I feel better already.”

  Sights like this were not new to me. I had already often seen possessed persons at home and knew their fate….

  The present case interested me very particularly. I had, as a matter of fact, learnt that the spirit inhabiting this girl was a bachour of great Talmudic learning. Having become an Epicurean through reading heretical works he had fled secretly from Betham-idrasch and succeeded in reaching Germany. There his co-religionists cared for him and enabled him to study. But in the course of time he revealed himself as so profound a heretic that it became too much for the German Jews and his protectors withdrew from him. He struggled for some time in the bitterest distress and was finally obliged to give up his studies. He took to drink, frequented dubious society, and was finally imprisoned. After that he was packed off to his own home. His parents would have nothing to do with a son who spoke German and dressed in European style. His co-religionists insulted, despised, and stoned him. In despair he went to the local clergyman and was baptized. But neither could or would the Christians do anything for him. Sunk in depravity and a physical and moral wreck through alcohol, suffering and privations, he was incapable of sustained work. The only help given to him took the form of permission to sit before the church amongst the beggars and eke out his miserable existence with alms. In the end he was unable to endure this life of shame: he drowned himself.

  When I heard the story of this unfortunate man related I was seized with a painful feeling which first became clear to me much later through the knowledge
of the Buddhist saying: “Tat twam asi” (so art thou thyself). I knew that this girl was sick, deranged in mind, and that she had nothing to do with the dead man’s destiny. Nevertheless mass-suggestion had so wrought upon me that I was anxious to learn by her mouth something about the poor wretch’s fate.

  The wide and spacious room where the girl had been brought and seated on a chair in the middle was filled with the serried ranks of the crowd. I had a good place, from which I could see and hear everything. She sat down, languid and exhausted, with haggard, fearful eyes, and from time to time lamented, begging to be taken back to the house because she was afraid of the wonder-rabbi. Her voice, weak and beseeching, inspired sympathy and compassion. Suddenly she sprang up and made efforts to remain standing.

  “Silentium strictissimum!”

  I could not believe my ears. It was a real man’s voice, harsh and rough, and the onlookers affirmed that it was exactly the voice of the meshoummed (baptized man). Not one of us knew the meaning of these words. We only knew that it was a strange language which the sick woman understood as little as ourselves. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” continued she…. Then she pronounced a long, confused discourse with High-German turns of phrase, of which I understood only that it greeted a festive gathering and wished to draw attention to the meaning of the feast.

  She broke off in the midst of the speech and burst into a frightful laugh which made us shudder to the marrow.… I was as if thunderstruck.

  A murmur arose: “The rabbi is coming!”

  The crowd drew aside respectfully to make room for the new arrival. A short, rotund little man came in sight, dressed from head to foot in white. Around the long white silk talar which fell to his feet was swathed a wide white sash, and his head was covered with a white silk streimel (fur-trimmed hat). The full cheeks hung like peaches in his face with its complexion of mingled blood and milk, while long and bushy eyebrows overhung his eyes. In one hand he held a shofar (horn) and in the other a loulaf (frond of palm). He entered at a run, chanting Hebrew verses, and followed by a secretary and servants, until, arrived in front of the girl, he handed the loulaf and shofar to the secretary and lifted up his eyebrows with his hands. From his coal-black eyes shone a light like the sparkle of a diamond; the girl was unable to sustain his look, and lowered her eyes in confusion. Two lighted tapers were brought and the rabbi began his address. “In the name of the 42 letters of the God with long sight, which has indeed no end; in the name of the lesser and greater celestial families; in the name of the chiefs of the bodyguard: Sandalfon, Uriel, Akatriel and Usiel, in the name of the potent Metateron surrounded with strength, awe-inspiring, vouchsafing salvation or damnation, I adjure thee, abject spirit, outcast from hell, to reply to my words and obey all my commands!”

  Stifling heat prevailed in the room. Through the wide, high windows fell the rays of a burning August sun which flooded the rapt faces of the crowd.

  “What is thy name?” the rabbi asked the sick woman in a loud, harsh voice. “Esther,” replied the girl softly and faintly, trembling all over. “Silence, thou Chazufe” (impudent woman), cried the rabbi. “I asked not thee but the dibbuk.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Wilt thou, or wilt thou not, reply?” resumed the rabbi, making as if to strike the girl with the loulaf. “Do not strike me!” implored the man’s voice. “I will reply.” “What is thy name?” “Christian Davidovitch.” “Jemach shemo” (may his name be blotted out), spat the rabbi stopping his ears. “I would know thy Jewish name.” “Chaim.” “And what was thy mother’s name?” “Sarah.” “Chaim ben Sarah,” commanded the rabbi, “relate what occurred after thy death.”

  The dibbuk told a long story. After death he had been cast out of hell with insults and opprobrium. He wandered for a long time, but could no longer remain without habitation and finally entered into a pig.

  “How like a meshoummed!” murmured the entranced onlookers.

  That was not too bad. When the pig was slaughtered he passed into a horse, where he had a very poor time. It was a draught-horse, which had to work hard, receive many blows, and never eat his fill. At length he decided to try man. The occasion was propitious. He knew that Esther had illicit relations with a young man, and watched the moment when she abandoned herself to his embraces; at that instant he was permitted to enter into her. He ended his narrative by begging not to be driven out; in life and after death he had suffered so greatly that they should have pity on him and grant him a little rest.

  This prayer appeared to make no impression on the rabbi. With an air of asperity he took the shofar from the hand of his secretary and put it to his mouth. But what is this? In spite of all his efforts he was unable to make any sound. Some minutes passed in anxious waiting. The rabbi put forth all his strength, sweat poured from his brow, and still no sound was heard. He gave up the attempt and remained for some instants plunged in deep meditation. Suddenly his face cleared; an inspiration of genius appeared to flash across his brow; he whispered something in his secretary’s ear, and the latter went away quietly and returned with a piece of wax. The rabbi snatched it from his hands and stopped the two openings of the refractory instrument. He tested carefully whether the closure was complete, then burst into a triumphant laugh, saying: “Now see, accursed Satan, how thou canst get out!”

  He raised the other shofar to his mouth. Now everything went smoothly.

  Tekio! and a clear, forthright blast rang out.

  Teruo! A resounding noise rent the air.

  Shevorim! The notes gushed forth in rapid succession.

  Tekio gedolo! This time it was a long and piercing sound.

  Abbela Srallok! burst forth the man’s voice suddenly with the same strident laughter as before.

  Abbela was the rabbi’s name; Srallok is a coarse insult. The rabbi changed colour and shook with rage and excitement; he had never yet encountered such impudence. But he recovered his self-control rapidly, seized the loulaf and struck the girl violently in the face with it. Then an incredible thing happened: the girl had freed her hands with lightning speed and before anyone could prevent her she dealt the rabbi two resounding boxes on the ears.

  A panic followed. The frightened crowd uttered cries and oaths, storming and weeping with excitement. Never had the like been seen. Nevertheless strong arms had seized the sick girl, the rabbi struck her so furiously with the loulaf that her face streamed with blood; she collapsed with a terrible cry and became unconscious. At this moment a noise was heard at the window as if it had been struck by a small stone. Everyone rushed towards it and discovered in one pane a hole of the size of a pea through which aperture the spirit had fled. The girl was carried out.

  After this scene I was as if transformed. I had come there as an unbeliever, an atheist, ostensibly to study on the spot superstition, religious dementia. The experiences of an hour had sufficed to overthrow like a house of cards the independent ideas which I had acquired by years of study, trials and struggles. In vain I told myself a thousand times that the girl was ill, that she had been in touch with the dead man in his lifetime and might have imitated his voice and manner of speech. In vain I asserted that the rabbi had executed an illusion with involuntary comic effect. Before me were thousands of men, older, more experienced, wiser than I. They all believed in the existence of the dibbuk, they had seen the spirit come out, they had heard the impact on the window and seen the hole in the pane. They all attested that the rabbi had times without number cured incurable sicknesses, recalled the dead to life, and brought to light inscrutable mysteries.

  Now that I am committing these thoughts to writing I can, if I wish, call these men fools. What is there to prevent me? I am sitting alone in my room, I have paper and pen and can think and write what I please. But at that moment I found myself like a single and tiny intelligence amongst thousands of stronger ones which weighed me down, absorbed me and carried me away. My brain had almost ceased to work, I gave myself up entirely to the sensations and emotions which assail
ed me so powerfully.

  This narrative, which offers in other respects no peculiar psychological features, leaves the noise and the hole in the window unexplained. It is naturally insufficient to make us admit a parapsychophysical phenomenon, for it is not established that no hole existed previously and a pre-arranged revolver-shot is not, moreover, beyond the bounds of possibility.

  As mentioned above, American spiritualistic literature furnishes a great abundance of recent cases of possession, but as they are generally of a nature to imply voluntary and partly induced phenomena I shall discuss these accounts in the next Part. I except one case where the spontaneous nature of the state is abundantly evident: the so-called Watseka Wonder. It has had an enormous publicity in America, since to all appearance the spirit of a dead child had passed into the organism of a girl friend. I give the case as W. James has produced it in his Psychology. I have unfortunately not yet been able to obtain access to the original.

  Lurancy was a young girl of fourteen, living with her parents at Watseka, Ill., who (after various distressing hysterical disorders and spontaneous trances, during which she was possessed by departed spirits of a more or less grotesque sort) finally declared herself to be animated by the spirit of Mary Roff (a neighbour’s daughter, who had died in an insane asylum twelve years before) and insisted on being sent “home” to Mr. Roff’s house. After a week of “home sickness” and importunity on her part, her parents agreed, and the Roffs, who pitied her, and who were spiritualists into the bargain, took her in. Once there, she seems to have convinced the family that their dead Mary had exchanged habitations with Lurancy. Lurancy was said to be temporarily in heaven, and Mary’s spirit now controlled her organism, and lived again in her former earthly home.

  The girl, now in her new home, seemed perfectly happy and content, knowing every person and every thing that Mary knew when in her original body, twelve to twenty-five years ago, recognizing and calling by name those who were friends and neighbours of the family from 1852 to 1856, when Mary died, calling attention to scores, yes, hundreds of incidents that transpired during her natural life. During all the period of her sojourn at Mr. Roff’s she had no knowledge of, and did not recognize, any of Mr. Vennum’s family, their friends or neighbours, yet Mr. and Mrs. Vennum and their children visited her and Mr. Roff’s people, she being introduced to them as to any strangers. After frequent visits, and hearing them often and favourably spoken of, she learned to love them as acquaintances, and visited them with Mrs. Roff three times. From day to day she appeared natural, easy, affable, and industrious, attending diligently and faithfully to her household duties, assisting in the general work of the family as a faithful, prudent daughter might be supposed to do, singing, reading, or conversing as opportunity offered, upon all matters of private or general interest to the family.