Possession, Demoniacal And Other

by T K Oesterreich

  The drawback was that amongst the growing number of spirits who communicated through me there were some definitely antipathetic. These brought on all sorts of terrible fits; I abused and struck my friend and threatened him with a knife, all against my will. Tears came to my eyes when I had to behave in this way, but nevertheless an extraneous force compelled me.

  The unhappy state of these relations led the sculptor’s friend one day to ask him whether he would change personalities with Tia. Obviously a most remarkable request! But not so much more remarkable than when Félida, Azam’s celebrated patient who suffered from alternation of personality, felt at times when something caused her unhappiness in her normal State, a longing for her second personality, in which, as she was aware, she forgot all that she had lived and suffered in the first. It must be added that Tia herself, that is, the sculptor in his somnambulistic Tia-states, had expressed this desire. We are familiar with this kind of psychic “osmosis” between somnambulistic and normal states of personality from other cases such as that related by Lemaître.1 But let us allow the sculptor to speak for himself:

  Thanks to all these episodes the nervous irritation of both my friend and myself was steadily intensified. Thus I was not surprised when one day he asked me to exchange with Tia. She had, it was said, made this proposal (the sculptor was evidently in a complete state of somnambulism when he incarnated Tia, so that he remembered nothing of these occasions). She wanted to enter into me, and during that time my soul and spirit would take up their abode in an intermediate sphere. Absurd as this proposal seems to me after a lapse of years, although I have become a spiritualist, I found it at that time and under the pressure of these strange experiences, perfectly natural. Nevertheless for a long time I refused. The growing tension between my friend and myself finally induced me, for love of him—I loved him dearly—to fall in with this proposal. The exchange of souls, if it may be so expressed, took place. I fell into a deep sleep, and when I awoke I was Tia: or else Tia was myself; I do not know how to explain the thing. I was completely different in every way. All my thoughts and sensations were transformed. I only lived, or properly speaking, Tia only lived, in my friend. My name must no longer be pronounced in his presence, and Tia executed this faithfully. Was I therefore Tia? For I could hardly have been capable of such a self-repudiation. Externally I of course remained the same person and passed as such; only the expression of my face must have changed.

  Extraneous events, the fact that he was summoned to P. whither Tia or I, I or Tia, could not accompany him, put an end to this affair. He left for P.; Tia was still within me. A fortnight after his departure she went to the heath at D., where she sat down upon the grasss; she or I had a feeling that everything was whirling round, it seemed to her that part of herself was being torn away. Then she lost consciousness, and when I came to myself again I found that I was once more myself. The spiritualist haunting—for so at that moment the years through which I had lived appeared to me—ceased from that time onwards. Tia (that is, the sculptor in somnambulistic or intermediate, semi-somnambulistic states such as often occurred in Hélène Smith’s case) did no more than write from time to time through me a letter to my friend, who had an intense longing for her. To write these letters I always fell into a trance, as formerly when I wrote during the séances.2

  This confession is like the narrative, done into present-day speech, of the ecclesiastic Surin which we studied in detail.1 The essential expressions are repeated almost word for word. Neither person rightly knows whether he should use “I” or the name of the spirit which seems to have taken possession of him. The reader will also recall the words of the Tonga Islander to Mariner.2

  Accounts cited up to the present contain nothing beyond the ordinary run of well-known psychological phenomena. But these are not all; the most important mediums present, simultaneously with states of possession, extremely singular parapsychic phenomena. They can, for example, in this state read the minds of those around them and penetrate not only their actual state of consciousness but also and especially their most recent memories. They are able to give an account of past experiences on the part of persons whom they have never known. What is more, they can often reveal particulars concerning absent persons and their past when given objects which have belonged to them. It is as if they read in these objects the history of their owners, or as if the objects were surrounded by an “aura” of past which they are able to decipher. We cannot, of course, enter here into the psychology of mediums and of parapsychic phenomena in general; a single example will serve to elucidate the preceding statements. It is borrowed from the most famous, the most minutely and lengthily studied of the mediums of this kind, Mrs. Piper, an American.

  In her earlier period she was possessed in her trances by an alleged spirit of the name of Phinuit. Possession was somnambulistic. Richet thus describes it according to Sage:

  In order to fall into a trance she must hold someone’s hand. She holds it silently for some minutes in semi-obscurity. After a certain time—from five to fifteen minutes—she is subject to slight convulsive movements which augment in intensity and finally result in a slight epileptoid fit. On coming out of this fit she falls, with a sort of rattling in the throat, into a state of torpor which does not last more than one or two minutes; then she suddenly comes out of the torpor with a cry. The voice has changed; it is no longer Mrs. Piper but another personality, Doctor Phinuit, who has a strong masculine voice and speaks a mixture of French, American, and negro dialect.3

  In this state Mrs. Piper makes the most remarkable revelations concerning the name, personal relationships and past of the entirely unknown persons who are brought to her. W. James, who also studied her, was convinced from the time of the first séance that the medium had supernormal faculties, a conviction which was only strengthened by the subsequent investigations. From that time onwards it may be said that Mrs. Piper has remained constantly under scientific control and has always given the same results. The alleged spirits change and are innumerable, but the abnormal knowledge manifested in the trances remains constant. On awakening from the trance Mrs. Piper knows nothing of what has taken place in that state. She learns it from the reports when she looks through them.

  By way of illustration, here is an extract from the report of a séance which Oliver Lodge held with Mrs. Piper and in which she had two different incarnations (Phinuit, Mr. E.). Notes were taken by his brother, Albert Lodge.

  Sitting No. 47. Evening of Christmas Day, 1889, 6.20 p.m. Present O. J. L. and A. L. (taking notes).

  “Captain, do you know that as I came I met the medium going out, and she’s crying. What is that?”

  O. L.: “Well, the fact is she’s separated from her children for a few days, and she is feeling rather low about it.”

  “How are you, Alfred? I’ve your Mother’s influence strong. (Pause.) By George! that’s your Aunt Anne’s ring (feeling ring I had put on my hand just before sitting), given over to you. And Olly dear, that’s one of the last things I ever gave you. It was one of the last things I said to you in the body, when I gave it you for Mary. I said: ‘For her, through you.’” (This is precisely accurate. The ring was her most valuable trinket, and it was given in the way here stated long before her death.)

  O. L.: “Yes, I remember perfectly.”

  “I tell you I know it. I shall never forget it. Keep it in memory of me, for I am not dead. Each spirit is not so dim (?) that it cannot recollect its belongings in the body. They attract us if there has been anything special about them. I tell you, my boy, I can see it just as plain as if I were in the body. It was the last thing I gave you, for her, through you, always in remembrance of me. (Further conversation and advice, ending.) Convince yourself, and let others do the same. We are all liable to make mistakes; but you can see for yourself. Here’s a gentleman wants to speak to you.”

  “Lodge, how are you? I tell you I’m living, not dead. That’s me. You know me, don’t you?”

  O. L.: “Yes. Del
ighted to see you again.”

  “Don’t give it up, Lodge. Cling to it. It’s the best thing you have. It’s coarse in the beginning, but it can be ground down fine. You’ll know best and correct (?). It can only come through a trance. You have to put her in a trance. You’ve got to do it that way to make yourself known.”

  O. L.: “Is it bad for the medium?”

  “It’s the only way, Lodge. In one sense it’s bad, but in another it’s good. It is her work. If I take possession of the medium’s body and she goes out, then I can use her organism to tell the world important truths. There is an infinite power above us. Lodge, believe it fully. Infinite over all; most marvellous. One can tell a medium, she’s like a ball of light. You look as dark and material as possible, but we find two or three lights shining. It’s like a series of rooms with candles at one end. Must use analogy to express it. When you need a light you use it, when you have finished you put it out. They are like transparent windows to see through. Lodge, it’s a puzzle. It’s a puzzle to us here in a way, though we understand it better than you. I work at it hard, I do. I’d give anything I possess to find out. I don’t care for material things now, our interest is much greater. I’m studying hard how to communicate; it’s not easy. But it is only a matter of short time before I shall be able to tell the world all sorts of things through one medium or another. (And so on for some time.) Lodge, keep up your courage, there is a quantity to hope for yet. Hold it up for a time. Don’t be in a hurry. Get facts; no matter what they call you, go on investigating. Test to fullest. Assure yourself, then publish. It will be all right in the end—no question about it. It’s true.”

  O. L.: “You have seen my Uncle Jerry, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I met him a little while ago—a very clever man—had an. interesting talk with him.”

  O. L.: “What sort of person is this Dr. Phinuit?”

  “Dr. Phinuit is a peculiar type of man. He goes about continually, and is thrown in with everybody. He is eccentric and quaint, but good-hearted. I wouldn’t do the things he does for anything. He lowers himself sometimes—it’s a great pity. He has very curious ideas about things and people; he receives a great deal about people from themselves (?). And he gets expressions and phrases that one doesn’t care for, vulgar phrases he picks up by meeting uncanny people through the medium. These things tickle him, and he goes about repeating them. He has to interview a great number of people, and has no easy berth of it. A high type of man couldn’t do the work he does. But he is a good-hearted old fellow. Good-bye, Lodge. Here’s the Doctor coming.”

  O. L.: “Good-bye, E. Glad to have had a chat with you.” (Doctor’s voice reappears.) “This (ring) belongs to your Aunt. Your Uncle Jerry tells me to ask…. By the way, do you know Mr. E’s been here—did you hear him?”

  O. L.: “Yes, I’ve had a long talk with him.”

  “Wants you to ask Uncle Bob about his cane. He whittled it out himself. It has a crooked handle with ivory on the top. Bob has it, and has initials cut in it. (There is a stick, but description inaccurate.)…”1

  This report gives a clear idea of the nature of the Piper case, the séance-records of which fill whole volumes. In essentials it recalls numerous others which we have already met; the somnambulistic personalities pretend to be spirits who have entered into the medium and who have intercourse with other spirits. There is nevertheless this difference, that Mrs. Piper in a state of trance possesses knowledge which she could not normally have acquired (with which are mingled errors, as the report shows). An enquiry lasting over several years, during which time her whole life was under unremitting observation by detectives, puts this matter beyond doubt, without, however, rendering possible any firm decision as to the nature of her parapsychic functions.1 Naturally these supernormal phenomena have largely contributed to make the Piper case serve as a basis for the development of spiritualist doctrine in Anglo-American literature.

  These examples may suffice to illustrate the forms of possession which appear in modern spiritualism. Exhaustive treatment is here absolutely out of the question and just as impossible as a complete survey of all the cases of demoniacal possession in Christian civilization. Modern spiritualist literature gives them in very large numbers.2

  There are, moreover, other and more frequent phenomena often designated in spiritualist circles by the name of “possession” or “invasion by a strange spirit.” Amongst these is automatic writing, in which the medium’s hand seems to write in an entirely mechanical manner, without his participation or previous knowledge, communications apparently corresponding to an individuality other than his own.

  In the realm of speech there is an analogous phenomenon: automatic speech or glossolalia, in which the mouth speaks without the subject willing or even knowing what it says; he learns it only while speaking, from the sound of his own words. This state is also sometimes designated as possession, as, for example, by W. James.3

  Even visions, real or alleged, and prophecies made in a kind of autohypnotic state have been subject to this description. We cannot here deal with these subjects, but let us at least observe that such an extension of terminology has occurred more particularly in English literature. A case in point of an author stretching the term “possession” to cover one province after another is furnished by Andrew Lang, owing to the fact that he starts from a definition of possession which, together with changes of personality, embraces also para-psychic phenomena.

  They (the possessed) speak in voices not their own, they act in a manner alien to their natural character, they are said to utter prophecies, and to display knowledge which they could not have normally acquired, and, in fact, do not consciously possess, in their normal condition.1

  Such summary definitions are rarely to the purpose. They make things accidentally juxtaposed (whose inner connection meanwhile escapes us) into an entity and then ticket this with a specific name. If phenomena forming only a part of this whole are subsequently encountered in real life, the authors generally apply to the part the name appropriate only to the whole, a proceeding which gives rise to intolerable confusion, since the same designation is used alternately for the whole complex and for mere partial conditions.

  It is otherwise with the admission of automatic writing and glossolalia into the realm of phenomena described as possession, inasmuch as here the lay observer will doubtless gain the impression that a second soul has entered into the subject. These states have not been dealt with in the present work, in spite of the fact that they centre round demoniacal possession as known to us from the New Testament. But their relationship to it is only limited, and an examination of states in which the “existing” second personality appears to be entirely unknown, would have grossly exceeded the compass of this work. They must therefore be held over for separate treatment.2

  1 Lykophron’s Alexandra.

  2 Amongst the books which I have handled the richest in documentation is the very profound work of von Stützle: Das griechische Orakelwesen und besonders die Orakelstätten Dodona und Delphi, in Programm des Kön. Gymnasiums zu Ellwangen, 1886–87 and 1890–91, also the article on Delphi in the Realenzyklopädie der Klassischen Altertumswissenschaft of Pauly, new edit. by Wissowa, vol. iv, Stuttgart, 1901. Cf. also for later times, particularly since the imperial period, G. Wolff, De novissima oraculorum œtate, Berolini, 1854.

  1 Paul Stengel, Die griechischen Kultusaltertümer, 2nd edit., Munich, 1898, p. 65.

  2 Plutarch, De orac. (Plutarch’s Morals, trans. by Several Hands, W. Taylor, London, 1718, vol. iv, Why the Oracles cease to gioe Answers).

  3 Cf. Stengel, loc. cit., pp. 65 sq., and C. W. Goettling, Gesammelte Abhandlungen aus dem klassischen Altertum, vol. ii, Munich, 1883, pp. 59 sq.

  1 P. Stengel, loc. cit., p. 65.

  2 Bergk, Griechische Literaturgeschichte, vol. i, Berlin, 1872, p. 335.

  1 E. Rohde, Psyche, vol. ii, 2nd edit., Freiburg, 1898, pp. 60 sq.

  2 Plutarch, De Pyth. or., c. 6 (a translation will be found
in Plutarch’s Morals, trans. by Several Hands, London, 1718, Why the Pythian Priestess ceases to deliver her Oracles in Verse, p. 104).

  3 Bergk, op. cit., vol. i, Berlin, 1872, p. 343.

  4 Plutarch, De Pyth. or., c. 6.

  5 Strabo, Geography, ix, 419. (There is a translation with notes by H. C. Hamilton and W. Falconer, 3 vols., 1854–57.)

  1 Chrysostom, Homilies on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, XXIX, chap. xii, 1.

  2 Origen, Against Celsus, vii, 3 (Ante-Nicene Library, “Writings of Origen,” trans. Crombie, vol. ii).

  3 Ibid.

  1 A. P. Oppé, The Chasm at Delphi, in the “Journal of Hellenic Studies,” vol. xxiv, 1904, pp. 214–40.

  2 Perdrizet, Die Hauptergebnisse der Ausgrabungen in Delphi, in “Neue Jahrbücher für das klassische Altertum,” vol. xxi, pp. 29 sq.

  3 L. R. Farnell, The Cults of the Greek States, vol. iv, Oxford, 1907, p. 181. The author is dealing particularly with Plutarch’s third work: Of the Cessation of Oracles.

  1 See Stützle, loc. cit., ii, p. 14, for further details on the statements of Pomtow and Curtius.

  2 Dion Cassius, History of Rome, lxxviii, 14.

  3 Diodorus, Bibliotheca Historica, xvi, 4–5.

  1 See Stützle, loc. cit., part ii, p. 49 (cf. p. 311, note 2).

  2 Seventh edit., Leipzig, 1896, p. 304.

  3 Homolle, Le Temple de Delphes, son histoire, sa ruine, in “Bulletins de correspondance hellénique,” vol. xx, 1896, p. 731.

  1 J. Ponten, Griechische Landschaften. Ein Versuch kiintslerischer Erdbeschreibung, Stuttgart, 1914, p. 159.

  I have written to J. Ponten to ask him if he could fathom this strange contradiction. He replied that he was a poet and not a scholar, although a lover of knowledge. “The crevasse in that place (it stands out clearly in the picture) is so much a part of the landscape, and particularly of that of Delphi, that error would be justified, at least from the artistic standpoint. I clearly remember having studied the matter from the geological point of view also, and as I did not find on the spot in the homogeneous mass of limestone rocks any natural cause for the production gf vapours, I had at the time doubts about the author of the statement. I also remember that he did not admit the existence of any kind of volcanic or plutonic vapours because local observation was too completely irreconcilable with these, but believed in the existence of another noxious vapour, perhaps sulphuretted hydrogen. I contented myself with this explanation, for it is dangerous to try to probe the depths of mythology in too rationalistic a spirit.…” The contradiction which we have pointed out therefore remains unsolved.