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<OU_1 64357 >ES 

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Gall No./3"V Accession No. 



This book should be returned on or before the date last marked below. 


















THE ETHER OF SPACE (HARPER, out of print) 

























First Published Nwrntfifr 2nd iQtb 

Second, Third, and Fourth Editions . November iQi6 

Fifth and Sixth Editions . . A . . . December iQib 

Seventh Edition February /0/7 

Eighth Edition July IQIJ 

Ninth Edition July rgrS 

Tenth Edition, with Addendum . . December [<)iS 

Elwenth Edition May iqiq 

Tivelfth Edition .... December IQIQ 

Thirteenth Edition /Qs6 








"Divine must be 

That triumph, when the very worst, the pain, 
And even the prospect of our brethren slain, 
Hath something in it which the heart enjoys." 

WORDSWORTH, Sonnet xxvi 


THIS book is named after my son who was killed in 
the War. 

It is divided into three parts. In the first part 
some idea of the kind of life lived and the spirit shown by 
any number of youths, fully engaged in civil occupations, 
who joined for service when war broke out and went to the 
Front, is illustrated by extracts from his letters. The 
object of this portion is to engender a friendly feeling 
towards the writer of the letters, so that whatever more 
has to be said in the sequel may not have the inevitable 
dullness of details concerning an entire stranger. This is 
the sole object of this portion. The letters are not sup- 
posed to be remarkable ; though as a picture of part of the 
life at the Front during the 1915 phase of the war they are 
interesting, as many other such letters must have been. 

The second part gives specimens of what at present 
are considered by most people unusual communications ; 
though these again are in many respects of an ordinary 
type, and will be recognised as such by other bereaved 
persons who have had similar messages. In a few par- 
ticulars, indeed, those here quoted haVe rather special 
features, by reason of the assistance given by the group of 
my friends " on the other side " who had closely studied 
the subject. It is partly owing to the urgency therein 
indicated that I have thought it my duty to speak out, 
though it may well be believed that it is not without hesi- 
tation that I have ventured thus to obtrude family affairs. 
I should not have done so were it not that the amount of 
premature and unnatural bereavement at the present time 



is so appalling that the pain caused by exposing one's own 
sorrow and its alleviation, to possible scoffers, becomes 
almost negligible in view of the service which it is legitimate 
to hope may thus be rendered to mourners, if they can 
derive comfort by learning that communication across 
the gulf is possible. Incidentally I have to thank those 
friends, some of them previously unknown, who have in 
the same spirit allowed the names of loved ones to appear 
in this book, and I am grateful for the help which one or 
two of those friends have accorded. Some few more 
perhaps may be thus led, to pay critical attention to any 
assurance of continued and happy and useful existence 
which may reach them from the other side. 

The third part of the book is of a more expository 
character, and is designed to help people in general to 
realise that this subject is not the bugbear which ignorance 
and prejudice have made it, that it belongs to a coherent 
system of thought full of new facts of which continued 
study is necessary, that it is subject to a law and order of 
its own, and that though comparatively in its infancy it is 
a genuine branch of psychological science. This third 
part is called " Life and Death," because these are the two 
great undeniable facts which concern everybody, and in 
which it is natural for every one to feel a keen interest, if 
they once begin to realise that such interest is not futile, 
and that it is possible to learn something real about them. 
It may be willingly admitted that these chapters are in- 
adequate to the magnitude of the subject, but it is hoped 
that they are of a usefully introductory character. 

The " In Memoriam " chapter of Part I is no doubt 
chiefly of interest to family and friends ; but everybody 
is very friendly, and under the circumstances it will be 


I PROPOSE to take advantage of the opportunity 
afforded by a new edition to make a short explanation 

or commentary, which may incidentally meet some 
of the objections raised by the more reasonable type of 
critic one who is willing to devote some time and attention 
to a book in order to arrive at the real meaning. 

The main object of a book like this is to help to bring 
comfort to bereaved persons, especially to those who have 
been bereaved by war. I do not indeed recommend all 
sorts of people to visit mediums or try to investigate the 
subject for themselves. If they do, it must be on their 
own responsibility. When sane people desire, on sound and 
good motives and in a reasonable spirit, to gain first-hand 
experience, in the hope of thereby mitigating their sorrow, 
there are people who do their best to help them ; but it is 
unwise to take the responsibility of urging such a course 
upon an unknown stranger. And some should be dissuaded. 
Nevertheless, a considerable number of bereaved people 
have been helped, who knew nothing of the subject before- 
hand. People in genuine distress have gone with careful 
recommendation and instructions to a reputable medium, 
quite anonymously, and have got into touch unmistakably 
with their departed. This has happened in numerous and 
some noteworthy cases. The result has been a considerable 
addition to the bulk of cumulative evidence in favour of 
the genuineness of the phenomenon, and incidentally of the 
power of mediums who normally knew nothing whatever 
about their visitors, but who in trance gave many intimate 
family details. It is absurd to suppose that people who had 


never been to a medium of any kind were recognised ; still 
more absurd to suppose that every anonymous stranger is 
personally known and has been looked up. 

The best mediums are simple straightforward people, 
anxious to do the best they can with their strange gift for 
the help of people in sorrow. Occasionally individuals may 
be encountered who pretend to powers which they do not 
possess, or who eke, out their waning power by fraud ; but 
in so far as these imitators are fraudulent they are not 
genuine mediums. If inexperienced novices go to charlatans 
who advertise by sandwich-men and other devices, they 
deserve what they get. 

On the other hand, I have not usually found bereaved 
people too ready to be convinced. Some are ; some are 
foolish enough to give things away in a careless manner ; 
but as a rule it is a mistake to suppose that people who are 
really seeking for evidence are ready to be misled. They are 
often quite critical, and reasonably cautious. Their anxiety 
sometimes makes them even excessively anxious not to be 
deceived in so vitalty important a matter. And even after 
they have had quite good evidence, they sometimes go back 
on it very naturally and become sceptical again. Many 
years of experience were needed in my own case before I 
was ready to admit the cumulative outcome of the whole 
body of evidence as finally conclusive. 

Concerning the particular case of my son Raymond, I 
have had many further talks with him since the book was 
published : but the stress and anxiety to communicate has 
subsided. The wish to give scientific evidence remains, 
but, now that the fact of survival and happy employment 
is established, the communications are placid like an 
occasional letter home. He has, however, been successful in 
bringing to their parents a number of youths whom he knew 
before death, and the weight of evidence has accordingly 
heavily increased. A few minor supplementary notes will 
be found in this edition on pages 150 and 270. 

I hope that in time, when the possibility is recognised 
and taken under the wing of religion, that people will not 
need individual and specific messages to assure them of the 


well-being of their loved ones. They will, I hope, be able 
to feel assured that what has been proved true of a few 
must be true of all, under the same general circumstances. 
Moreover, it is to be hoped that they will be able to receive 
help and comfort and a sense of communion through their 
own powers, in peaceful times, without strain or special 
effort and without vicarious inedi^tion. , 

The power, or sensitiveness, or whatever it ought to be 
called, seems to be a good deal commoner than people think. 
I anticipate that in most families there will be found one 
member who may be able to help others to some knowledge 
in this direction. Elaborate proof is necessary at first, as 
it has been in connexion with many now recognised and 
familiar things, such as the position of the earth in the 
solar system, but when once a fact or doctrine is generally 
accepted, people settle down in acceptance and enjoyment 
of the general belief, without each striving after exceptional 
experience for himself. The inertia of the human mind and 
of the body-politic is considerable : right beliefs take time 
to enter, and wrong beliefs take time to disappear ; but periods 
of anxiety and doubt and controversy do not last as a per- 
manent condition. They represent a phase through which 
we have to go. 

One difficulty which good people feel, about allowing 
themselves to take comfort from the evidence, is the attitude 
of the Church to it, and the fear that we are encroaching 
on dangerous and forbidden ground. I have no wish to 
shirk the ecclesiastical point of view : it is indeed important, 
for the Church has great influence. But I must claim that 
Science can pay no attention to ecclesiastical notice-boards ; 
we must examine wherever we can, and I do not agree that 
any region of inquiry can legitimately be barred out by 

Occasionally the accusation is made that the phenomena 
we encounter are the work of devils ; and we are challenged 
to say how we know that they are not of evil character. 
To that the only answer is the ancient one " by their 
fruits." I will not elaborate it. St. Paul gave a long list 
of the fruits of the Spirit. Yet I do not mean to say that 


no precautions need be taken, and that everything connectec 
with the subject is wholly good : I do not regard as wholl] 
good any activity of man. Even the pursuit of Science cai 
be prostituted to evil ; as we see now only too clearly ii 
the war. Everything human can be used and can be abused 
I have to speak in platitudes to answer these objections 
they are often quite unworthy of the sacred name of religion 
they savour of professionalism. Chief Priests were always 
ready to attribute anything done without their sanction t( 
the power of Beelzebub. The Bishop of Beauvais denouncec 
Joan of Arc's voices as diabolic. It is a very ancient accusa 
tioa. In the light of historical instances, it is an over 
flattering one : I wish to give no other answer. 

Concerning the substance of the communications receivec 
from the other side, perhaps the most difficult portion ii 
the account given of the similarity of the conditions ai 
described ' over there ' to the conditions existing on th< 
earth ; and it is asked, how can that be possible ? I reply 
in all probability because of the identity of the observer 
I do not dogmatise on the point, but I conceive that in sc 
far as people remain themselves, their power of interpreta- 
tion will be similar to what it used to be here. Hence ir 
whatever way we interpret a material world here and now 
so, in like manner, are we likely to interpret an etherial work 
through senses not altogether dissimilar in effect, howevei 
they differ in detail. 

Surely the external world, as we perceive it, is largelj 
dependent on our powers of perception and interpretation 
So is a picture, or any work of art. The thing in itself 
whatever that means can hardly be known to us. I admil 
it is a difficult proposition, but the evidence is fairly con- 
sistent on this point ever since Swedenborg, the next work 
is always represented as surprisingly like this ; and thougl: 
that obviously lends itself to scepticism, I expect it corre- 
sponds to some sort of reality. It looks almost as if thai 
world were an etherial counterpart of this : or else as if we 
were all really in one world all the time, only they see the 
etherial aspect of it and we see the material. The clue tc 
all this seems to depend on the similarity or rather the 


identity of the observer. A nerve centre interprets or presents 
to the mind each stimulus in the specific way to which it 
has become accustomed, whatever the real nature of the 
stimulus ; a blow on the eye, or a pressure on the retina, is 
interpreted as light. 

To come to smaller details. If the accusation has been 
brought that such things as smoking and drinking are re- 
presented as in vogue on the other side, it is unjustified and 
untrue. A statement detached from its context is often 
misleading. What is revealed in my book, if it has any 
trustworthy significance, implies clearly and decisively that 
they do not thus occupy their time ; nor are any such things 
natural to their surroundings. Nothing but common sense 
is needed to understand the position. If there is a com- 
munity over there, it cannot be a fixed and stationary one, 
new-comers must be continually arriving. My son is re- 
presented as stating that when people first come over, and 
are in a puzzled state of mind, hardly knowing where they 
are, they ask for all sorts of unreasonable things ; and that 
the lower kind are still afflicted with the desires of earth. 
After all, this is really orthodox moral teaching, or I am much 
mistaken ; it is one of the warnings held out to sensual 
persons that their desires may persist and become part of 
their punishment. 

Imagine an assembly of clergymen in some Retreat, 
where they give themselves to meditation and good works, 
and then imagine a traveller mistaking their hostel for an 
hotel and asking for a whisky and soda. Would that mean 
that alcoholic drinks were natural to the surroundings and 
part of the atmosphere of the place ? Would not the feeling 
aroused by the request mean just the contrary ? The book 
says that in order to wean these new-comers from sordid 
and unsuitable though comparatively innocuous tastes, the 
policy adopted is not to forbid and withhold a policy 
which might over-inflame and prolong the desire but to 
take steps to satisfy it in moderation until the new-comers 
of their own free will and sense perceive the unsuitability, 
and overcome the relics of earthly craving ; which they do 
very soon. c 


Whether the statement be accepted as true or not, or as 
containing some parabolic element of truth, I see nothing 
derogatory in it ; and the process of weaning may be wise. 

It must be admitted, however, that games and songs are 
spoken of, and I have heard it claimed that " spirits of just 
men made perfect " ought not to be occupied in any such 
commonplace ways, even during their times of relaxation. 
To this I reply that when perfection or saintliness is attained 
that may be true : it is not a subject on which I am a judge. 
Games and exercises are harmless and beneficial here, even 
for good people ; and surely if young fellows remain them- 
selves, games and exercise and songs will not seem alien to 
them at any rate not for some time. People seem hardly 
to realise all that survival with persistent character and 
personal identity must really involve. It is surely clear 
that the majority of people, whether in this or in another 
life, are just average men and women, and neither saints nor 
devils ; and ecclesiastical teaching has surely erred in leading 
people to suppose that the act of death converts them into 
one or the other. Progress and development are conspicu- 
ously the law of the Universe. Evolution is always gradual. 
Youths shot out of the trenches fine fellows as they are 
are not likely to become saints all at once. They cannot 
be reasonably spoken of as " just men made perfect." Let 
a little common sense into the subject, and remember the 
continuity of existence and of personal identity. Do not 
suppose that death converts a person into something quite 
different. Happier and holier, pleasanter and better, the 
surroundings may be, than on earth ; there is admittedly 
room for improvement ; but sudden perfection is not for the 
likes of us. 

It is, after all, highly unlikely that the experience of 
everybody on that side is the same : the few saints of the 
race may have quite a different experience : the few diabolical 
ruffians must have a different one again. I have not been 
in touch with either of these classes. There are many grades, 
many states of being ; and each goes to his own place. 

If it is urged by orthodox critics that the penitent 
thief went to heaven, I reply, Not at all. According to the 


record he went to Paradise, which is different. A sort of 
Garden of Eden, apparently, is meant by the word, something 
not too far removed from earth. As far as I can make out, 
the ancient writers thought of it as a place or state not very 
different from what in the book is called " Summerland." 

Against this it may be urged that Christ himself could 
not have stayed, even for a time, at an intermediate or com- 
paratively low stage. But I see no reason to suppose that 
he exempted himself from any condition appropriate to a 
full-bodied humanity. Surely he would carry it through 
completely. Judging from the Creed, which I suppose 
clerical critics accept, they appear to hold that Christ even 
descended at first descended into hades or the underworld, 
doubtless on some high missionary effort. Anyhow and 
quite clearly the record says that for forty days he remained 
in touch with earth, presumably in the state called Paradise, 
occasionally appearing or communicating with survivors 
again after the manner of transitional humanity. And only 
after that sojourn, for our benefit, did he ascend to some 
lofty state, far above anything attainable by thieves however 
penitent, or by our young soldiers however magnificent and 
self-sacrificing. After aeons of progress have elapsed, they 
may gradually progress thither. 

Meanwhile they are happier and more at home in Paradise. 
There they find themselves still in touch with earth, not 
really separated from those left behind, still able actively to 
help and serve. There is nothing supine about the rest and 
joy into which they have entered. Under their young energy, 
strengthened by the love which rises towards them like a 
blessing, the traditional barrier between the two states is 
suffering violence, is being taken by force. A band of eager 
workers is constructing a bridge, is opening a way for us 
across the chasm ; communication is already easier and 
more frequent than ever before ; and in the long run we 
may feel assured that all this present suffering and bereave- 
ment will have a beneficent outcome for humanity. 



PREFACE . . . . . . vii 





I. IN MKMORIAM . . . . .3 




INTRODUCTION . . . . .83 


II. THE ' FAUNUS ' MESSAGE . . . .90 





VIII. A TABLE SITTING . . . . . 137 


X. RECORD CONTINUED . . , . .158 








xviii RAYMOND 





MATTER ..... 226 





















INDEX ....... 397 


RAYMOND ...... Frontispiece 



RAYMOND, 1915 . . . . . .80 

RAYMOND'S SHOULDER . . . . .112 



MOVED . . . . . . .116 

MARIEMONT ....... 224 

COMBE) ....... 250 




WITH ALEC ON BOARD . . . . .252 


BEACH ....... 252 

f! GRANDFATHER W." . . . . .258 










"And this to fill us with regard for man, 
With apprehension of his passing worth." 

BROWNING, Paracelsus 




I HE bare facts are much as reported in The 
Times : 

SECOND LIEUTENANT RAYMOND LODGE was the youngest son of 
Sir Oliver and Lady Lodge, and was by taste and training an 
engineer. He volunteered for service in September 1914 and was 
at once given a commission in the $rd South Lancashires. After 
training near Liverpool and Edinburgh, he went to the Front in 
the early spring of 1915, attached to the 2nd South Lancashire 
Regiment of the Regular Army, and was soon in the trenches near 
Ypres or Hooge. His engineering skill was of service in details of 
trench construction, and he later was attached to a Machine-Gun 
Section for a time, and had various escapes from shell fire and 
shrapnel. His Captain having sprained an ankle, he was called back 
to Company work, and at the time of his death was in command of 
a Company engaged in some early episode of an attack or attempted 
advance which was then beginning. He was struck by a fragment 
of shell in the attack on Hooge Hill on the I4th September 1915, 
and died in a few hours. 

Raymond Lodge had been educated at Bedales School and 
Birmingham University. He had a great aptitude and love for 
mechanical engineering, and was soon to have become a partner 
with his elder brothers, who highly valued his services, and 
desired his return to assist in the Government work which now 
occupies their firm. 

In amplification of this bare record a few members of 
the family wrote reminiscences of him, and the following 
memoir is by his eldest brother ; 



BY O. W. F. L. 

MOST lives have marriages, births of children, pro- 
ductive years ; but the lives of the defenders of 
their Country are short and of majestic simplicity. 
The obscure records of childhood, the few years of school 
and university and constructive and inventive work, and 
then the sudden sacrifice of all the promise of the future, 
of work, of home, of love ; the months of hard living and 
hard work well carried through, the cheerful humorous 
letters home making it out all very good fun ; and in 
front, in a strange ruined and desolate land, certain muti- 
lation or death. And now that death has come. 

Unto each man his handiwork, to each his crown, 

The just Fate gives ; 
Whoso takes the world's life on him and his own lays down, 

He, dying so, lives. 1 

My brother was born at Liverpool on January 25th, 
1889, and was at Bedales School for five or six years, and 
afterwards at Birmingham University, where he studied 
engineering and was exceptionally competent in the 
workshop. He went through the usual two years' 
practical training at the Wolseley Motor Works, and 
then entered his brothers' works, where he remained 
until he obtained a commission at the outbreak 
of war. 

His was a mind of rare stamp. It had unusual power, 
unusual quickness, and patience and understanding of 
difficulties in my experience unparalleled, so that he was 

1 Swinburne; Super Flumina Babyhnis; Songs before Sunrise. 



able to make anyone understand really difficult things. 
I think we were most of us proudest and most hopeful of 
him. Some of us, I did myself, sometimes took prob- 
lems technical or intellectual to him, sure of a wise and 
sound solution. 

Though his chief strength lay on the side of mechanical 
and electrical engineering it was not confined to that. He 
read widely, and liked good literature of an intellectual 
and witty but not highly imaginative type, at least I do 
not know that he read Shelley or much of William Morris, 
but he was fond of Fielding, Pope, and Jane Austen. 
Naturally he read Shakespeare, and I particularly associ- 
ate him with Twelfth Night, Love's Labour's Lost, and 
Henry the Fourth. Among novelists, his favourites, 
after Fielding and Miss Austen, were I believe Dickens 
and Reade ; and he frequently quoted from the essays 
and letters of Charles Lamb. 1 

Of the stories of his early childhood, and his over- 
flowing vitality made many, I was too often from 
home to be able to speak at large. But one I may tell. 
Once when a small boy at Grove Park, Liverpool, he 
jumped out of the bath and ran down the stairs with the 
nurse after him, out of the front door, down one drive 
along the road and up the other, and was safely back in 
the bath again before the horrified nursemaid could catch 
up with him. [body of Memoir incomplete, and omitted here.] 

1 Note by O. J. L. A volume of poems by O. W. F. L. had been sent 
to Raymond by the author; and this came back with his kit, inscribed 
on the title page in a way which showed that it had been appreciated I 

" Received at Wisques (Machine-Gun School), near St. Omer, 

France 12'* July 1915. 
Taken to camp near Poperinghe 13** July. 
To huts near Dickebusch 2 1 st July. 
To first-line trenches near St. Eloi, in front of ' The Mound of 

Death '24** July." 


[Close of Memoir] 

That death is the end has never been a Christian 
doctrine, and evidence collected by careful men in our 
own day has, perhaps needlessly, upheld with weak props 
of experiment the mighty arch of Faith. Death is real 
and grievous, and is not to be tempered by the glossing 
timidities of those who would substitute journalese like 
" passing-on," " passing-over/ 1 etc., for that awful word : 
but it is the end of a stage, not the end of the 
journey. The road stretches on beyond that inn, and 
beyond our imagination, " the moonlit endless way." 

Let us think of him then, not as lying near Ypres 
with all his work ended, but rather, after due rest and 
refreshment, continuing his noble and useful career in more 
peaceful surroundings, and quietly calling us his family 
from intemperate grief to resolute and high endeavour. 

Indeed, it is not right that we should weep for a death 
like his. Rather let us pay him our homage in praise and 
imitation, by growing like him and by holding our lives 
lightly in our Country's service, so that if need be we may 
die like him. This is true honour and his best memorial. 

Not that I would undervalue those of brass or stone, 
for If vigorous they are good and worthy things. But 
fame illuminates memorials, and fame has but a narrow 
opening in a life of twenty-six years. 

Who shall remember him, who climb 
His all-unripened fame to wake, 
Who dies an age before his time ? 
But nobly, but for England's sake. 

Who will believe us when we cry 
He was as great as he was brave ? 
His name that years had lifted high 
Lies buried in that Belgian grave. 

O strong and patient, kind and true, 
Valiant of heart, and clear of brain 
They cannot know the man we knew, 
Our words go down the wind like rain. 

O, W. F. L. 













Whoso bears the whole heaviness of the wronged world's weight 

And puts it by, 
It is well with him suffering, though he face man's fate ; 

How should he die ? 

Songs before Sunrise 



F alt my sons, the yoiift|;est, when he was small, was 
most like jnyself at the same age. In bodily ap- 


pearance I could recognise the likeness to my eary 
self, as preserved in old photographs ; an old schoolfellow, 
of mine who knew me between the ages of eight and eleveilt 
visiting Mariemont in April 1904, remarked on it forcibly 
and at once, directly he saw Raymond then a schoolboy ; 
aild innumerable small mental traits in the bof recalled 
to me my childhood's feelings. Even an absurd diffi- 
culty he had as a child in saying the hard letters 
the hard G and K was markedly reminiscent of my 
own similar difficulty. 

Another peculiarity which we shared in childhood 
was dislike of children's parties indeed, in my own case, 
a party of any kind. I remember being truly miserable 
at a Christmas party at The Mount, Penkhull,, where I have 
no doubt that every one was more than friendly, though 
probably over - patronising, as people often are with 
children, but where I determinedly abstained from 
supper, and went horjie hungry. Raymond's prominent 
instance was at the hospitable Liverpool house, " Green- 
bank/ 1 which the R^thbones annually delivered up to 
family festivities each' Christmas afternoon and evening, 
being good enough to include us in their family group. On 
one such occasion Raymond, a very small boy, was found 
ilk the hall making a bee-line for the front door and home. 
I remember sympathising with him, from ancient memo- 
ries, and talking him home, subsequently returning 

i At a later stage of boyhood I perceived that his ability 
and tastes were akin to mine, for we had the same passion- 
ate love of engineering and machinery ; though in my 
case, having no opportunity of exercising it to any use- 
ful extent, it gradually turned into special aptitude for 
physical science. Raymond was never anything like as 
good at* physics, nor had he the same enthusiasm for 




mathematics that I had, but he was better, 
was in many ways I consider stronger in character, and 
would have made, I expect, a first-rate engineer. His 
pertinacious ability in the mechanical and workshop direc- 
tion was very marked. Nothing could have been further 
from his natural tastes and proclivities than to enter 
upon a military career ; nothing but a sense of duty im- 
pelled him in that direction, which was quite foreign to 
family tradition, at least on my side. 

He also excelled me in a keen sense of humour not 
only appreciation, but achievement. The whole family 
could not but admire and enjoy the readiness with which 
he perceived at once the humorous side of everything ; and 
he usually kept lively any gathering of which he was a unit. 
At school, indeed, his active wit rather interfered with the 
studies of himself and others, and in the supposed interests 
of his classmates it had to be more or less suppressed, but 
to the end he continued to be rather one of the wags of the 

Being so desperately busy all my life I failed to see 
as much as I should like either of him or of the other 
boys, but there was always an instinctive sympathy 
between us ; and it is a relief to me to be unable to re- 
member any, even a single, occasion on which I have been 
vexed with him. In all serious matters he was, as far as 
I could judge, one of the best youths I have ever known ; 
and we all looked forward to a happy life for him and a 
brilliant career. 

His elder brothers highly valued his services in their 
Works. He got on admirably with the men phis mode 
of dealing with overbearing foremen at the Works, 
where he was for some years an apprentice, was testified 
to as masterly, and was much appreciated by his 
" mates " ; and honestly I cannot bethink myself of tny 
trait in his character which I would have had different 
unless it be that he might have had a more thorough liking 
and aptitude for, and greater industry in, my own subject 
of physics. 

When the war broke out his mother and I were in 
Australia, and it was some time before we heard that he 
had considered it his duty to volunteer. He did so in 
September 1914, getting a commission in the Regular 


Army which was ante-dated to August ; and he threw 
himself into military duties with the same ability and 
thoroughness as he had applied to more naturally congenial 
occupations. He went through a course of training at 
Great Crosby, near Liverpool, with the Regiment in which 
he was a Second Lieutenant, namely the 3rd South 
Lancashires, being attached to the 2nd when he went^ to 
the Front ; his Company spent the winter in more active 
service on the south coast of the Firth of Forth and Edin- 
burgh ; and he gained his desired opportunity to go out 
to Flanders on 15 March 1915. Here he applied his 
engineering faculty to trench and shelter construction, 
in addition to ordinary military duties ; and presently he 
became a machine-gun officer. How desperately welcome 
to the family his safe return would have been, at the end 
of the war, I need not say. He had a hard and strenuous 
time at the Front, and we all keenly desired to make it up 
to him by a course of home " spoiling." But it was too 
much to hope for though I confess I did hope for it. 

He has entered another region of service now ; and 
this we realise. For though in the first shock of bereave- 
ment the outlook of life felt irretrievably darkened, a per- 
ception of his continued usefulness has mercifully dawned 
upon us, and we know that his activity is not over. His 
bright ingenuity will lead to developments beyond what 
we could have anticipated ; and we have clear hopes 
for the future. 

O. J. L. 

MARIEMONT, September 30, 1915 


Written on a scrap of paper, September 26, 1915, 
M To ease the pain and to try to get in touch " 

AYMOND, darling, you have gone from our 
world, and oh, to ease the pain. I want to know 
you are happy, and that you yourself are really 
talking to me and no sham. 

" No more letters from you, my own dear son, and 


I have loved them so. They are all there ; we shall 
.have them typed together into a sort of book. 

" Now we shall be parted until I join you there. I 
have not seen as much of you as I wanted on this earth, 
but I do love to think of the bits I have had of you, 
specially our journeys to and from Italy. I had you to 
myself then, and you were so dear. 

" I want to say, dear, how we recognise the glorious 
way in which you have done your duty, with a certain 
straight pressing on, never letting anyone see the effort, 
and with your fun and laughter playing round all the 
time, cheering and helping others. You know how your 
brothers and sisters feel your loss, and your poor father 1 " 

'"PHE religious side of Raymond was hardly known to the 
family ; but among his possessions at the Front was found a 
small pocket Bible called " The Palestine Pictorial Bible " (Pearl 
241110), Oxford University Press, in which a number of passages are 
marked ; and on the fly-leaf, pencilled in his writing, is an index 
to these passages, which page I copy here : 

Ex. xxxiii. 14 
St. John xiv. 
Eph.ii. . 
Neh. i. 6, n 
St. Johnxvi. 33 
Rom. viii. 35 
St. Matt. xi. 28 
Ps. cxxiv. 8 
Ps. xliii. 2 
Deut. xxxiii. 27 
Deut. xxxii. 43 
Isa. 11. 12 
Isa. lii. 12 
Jude 24 . 
Ezra ix. 9 
Isa. xii. 2 
Isa. i. 1 8 . 
Isa. xl. 31 
Rev. vii. 14 
Rev. xxi. 4 

MIZPAH. Gen. xxxi. 49. 









'HE following poem was kindly sent me by Canon 
Rawnsley, in acknowledgement of a Memorial 
Card : 



-His strong young body is laid under some trees on the road 
from Ypres to Menin." [From the Memorial Card sent to 

'Twixt Ypres and Menin night and day 

The poplar trees in leaf of gold 
Were whispering either side the way 
Of sorrow manifold, 

Of war that never should have been, 

Of war that still perforce must be, 
Till in what brotherhood can mean 
The nations all agree. 

But where they laid your gallant lad 

I heard no sorrow in the air, 
The boy who gave the best he had 
That others good might share. 

For golden leaf and gentle grass 

They too had offered of their best 
To banish grief from all who pass 
His hero's place of rest. 

There as I gazed, the guests of God, 

An angel host before mine eyes, 
Silent as if on air they trod 

Marched straight from Paradise. 

And one sprang forth to join the throng 

From where the grass was gold and green, 
His body seemed more lithe and strong 
Than it had ever been. 

I cried, But why in bright array 

Of crowns and palms toward the north 
And those white trenches far away, 
Doth this great host go forth ? " 

He answered, Forth we go to fight 

To help all need where need there be, 
Sworn in for right against brute might 
Till Europe shall be free." 





" yl ND I think that I ought now to repeat the 

/-\ message which your fathers, when they went 

-* ^ out to battle, urged us to deliver to you who are 

their survivors, in case anything happened to them. 

I will tell you what I heard them say, and what, if they 

could, they would fain be saying now, judging from what 

they then said ; but you must imagine that you hear it 

all from their lips. Thus they spoke : 

" Sons, the event proves that your fathers were brave 
men. For we, who might have continued to live, though 
without glory, choose a glorious death rather than bring 
reproach on you and your children, and rather than dis- 
grace our fathers and all of our race who have gone before 
us, believing that for the man who brings shame on his 
own people life is not worth living, and that such an one 
is loved neither by men nor gods, either on earth or in 
the underworld when he is dead. 

" Some of us have fathers and mothers still living, and 
you must encourage them to bear their trouble, should it 
come, as lightly as may be ; and do not join them in 
lamentations, for they will have no need of aught that 
would give their grief a keener edge. They will have 
pain enough from what has befallen them. Endeavour 
rather to soothe and heal their wound, reminding them 
that of all the boons they ever prayed for the greatest 
have been granted to them. For they did not pray that 
their sons should live for ever, but that they should be 
brave and of fair fame. Courage and honour are the best 
of all blessings, and while for a mortal man it can hardly 
be that everything in his own life will turn out as he 
would have it, their prayer for those two things has 
been heard. Moreover, if they bear their troubles bravely, 
it will be perceived that they are indeed fathers of brave 
sons, and that they themselves are like them. ... So 


minded, we, at any rate, bid those dear to us to be ; such 
we would have them be ; and such we say we are now 
showing that we ourselves are, neither grieving overmuch 
nor fearing overmuch if we are to die in this battle. And 
we entreat our fathers and mothers to continue to be 
thus minded for the rest of their days, for we would have 
them know that it is not by bewailing and lamentation that 
they will please us best. If the dead have any knowledge 
of the living, they will give us no pleasure by breaking 
down under their trouble, or by bearing it with im- 
patience. . . . For our lives will have had an end the 
most glorious of all that fall to the lot of man ; it is 
therefore more fitting to do us honour than to lament us.' 1 

Stat sua cuigue dies; breve et irreparabile tempus 
Omnibus est vitae: sed famam extender* factis, 
Hoc 9trtujis opus. 

Mn. x. 467 


I SHALL now, for reasons explained in the Preface, 
quote extracts from letters which Raymond wrote to 
members of his family during the time he was serving 
in Flanders. 

A short note made by me the day after he first started 
for the Front may serve as a preliminary statement of 
fact ? 

Mariemont, Edgbaston, 
16 March 1915 

Raymond was recently transferred back from Edinburgh to 
Great Crosby near Liverpool ; and once more began life in tents 
or temporary sheds. 

Yesterday morning, Monday the i5th March, one of the 
subalterns was ordered to the Front ; he went to a doctor, who 
refused to pass him, owing to some temporary indisposition. 
Raymond was then asked if he was fit : he replied, Perfectly. 
So at 10 a.m. he was told to start for France that night. Accord- 
ingly he packed up ; and at 3.0 we at Mariemont received a 
telegram from him asking to be met at 5 p.m., and saying he could 
spend six hours at home. 

His mother unfortunately was in London, and for many 
hours was inaccessible. At last some of the telegrams reached 
her, at 7 p.m., and she came by the first available (slow) train 
from Paddington, getting here at n. 

Raymond took the midnight train to Euston ; Alec, Lionel, 
and Noel accompanying him. They would reach Euston at 3.50 
a.m. and have two hours to wait, when he was to meet a Captain 
[Capt. Taylor], and start from Waterloo for Southampton. The 
boys intended to see him off at Waterloo, and then return home 
to their war-business as quickly as they could. 

He seems quite well ; but naturally it has been rather a 
strain for the family : as the same sort of thing has been for so 
many other families. O. J. L. 

First comes a letter written on his way to the Front 
after leaving Southampton. 



"Hotel Dervaux, 75 Grande Rue, 

Wednesday, 24 March 1915, 11.30 a.m. 

" Following on my recent despatch, I have the honour 
to report that we have got stuck here on our way to the 
Front. Not stuck exactly, but they have shunted us 
into a siding which we reached about 8 a.m., and we are 
free until 2.30 p.m. when we have to telephone for further 
orders to find out where we are to join our train. I 
don't know whether this is the regular way to the Front 
from Rouen. I don't think it is, I fancy the more direct 
way must be reserved for urgent supplies and wounded. 

" My servant has been invaluable en route and he 
has caused us a great deal of amusement. He hunted 
round at the goods station at Rouen (whence we started) 
and found a large circular tin. He pierced this all over 
to form a brazier and attached a wire handle. As soon 
as we got going he lit this, having filled it with coal 
purloined from somewhere, and when we stopped by 
the wayside about 10 or n p.m. he supplied my com- 
partment (four officers) with fine hot tea. He had pre- 
viously purchased some condensed milk. He also saw to 
it that a large share of the rations, provided by the 
authorities before we left, fell to our share, and looked 
after us and our baggage in the most splendid way. 

" He insists on treating the train as a tram. As soon 
as it slows down to four miles an hour, he is down on the 
permanent way gathering firewood or visiting some rail- 
way hut in search of plunder. He rides with a number of 
other servants in the baggage waggon, and as they had no 
light he nipped out at a small station and stole one of the 
railway men's lamps. However, there was a good deal of 
fuss, and the owner came and indignantly recovered it. 

" As soon as we stop anywhere, he lowers out of his 
van the glowing brazier. He keeps it burning in the van ! 
I wonder the railway authorities don't object. If they do, 
of course he pretends not to understand a.ny French. 

" He often gets left behind on the line, and has to 
scramble into pur carriage, where he regales us with his 
life history until the next stop, when he returns to his own 


" Altogether he is a very rough customer and wants a 
lot of watching all the same he makes an excellent 


" Friday, 26 March 1915 

" I arrived here yesterday about 5 p.m., and found 
the Battalion resting from the trenches. We all return 
there on Sunday evening. 

" I got a splendid reception from my friends here, and 
they have managed to get me into an excellent Company, 
all the officers of which are my friends. This place is 
very muddy, but better than it was, I understand. We 
are in tents." 

" Saturday, 27 March 1915, 4.30 p.m. 

" We moved from our camp into billets last night and 
are now in a farmhouse. The natives still live here, and 
we (five officers) have a room to ourselves, and our five 
servants and our cook live and cook for us in the kitchen. 
The men of our Company are quartered in neighbouring 
farm buildings, and other Companies farther down the 
road. We are within a mile of a village and about three 
or four miles to the southward of a fair-sized and well- 
known town. The weather is steadily improving and the 
mud is drying up though I haven't seen what the trenches 
are like yet. ... 

" I am now permanently attached to C Company and 
am devoutly thankful. Captain T. is in command and the 
subalterns are Laws, Fletcher, and Thomas, all old friends 
of mine. F. was the man whose room I shared at Edin- 
burgh and over whose bed I fixed the picture. . . . 

" We went on a ' fatigue ' job to-day just our Com- 
pany and were wrongly directed and so went too far 
and got right in view of the enemy's big guns. However, 
we cleared out very quickly when we discovered our error, 
and had got back on to the main road again when a 
couple of shells burst apparently fairly near where we had 
been. There were a couple of hostile aeroplanes about 
too. . . . Thank you very much for your letter wondering 
where I am. ' Very pressing are the Germans/ a buried 
city." , 



[This of course privately signified to the family that 
he was at Ypres.] 

" i April 1915, 1.15- P**fi* 

" We dug trenches by night on Monday and Wednes- 
day, and although we were only about 300 to 500 yards 
from the enemy we had a most peaceful time, only a very 
few stray bullets whistling over from time to time." 

" Saturday, ^ April 1915, 7 p.m. 

" I am having quite a nice time in the trenches. I am 
writing this in my dug-out by candle-light ; this afternoon 
I had a welcome shave. Shaving and washing is usually 
dispensed with during our spell of duty (even by the 
Colonel), but if I left it six days I should burst my razor 
I think. I have got my little ' Primus ' with me and it is 
very useful indeed as a standby, although we do all our 
main cooking on a charcoal brazier. ... 

" I will look out for the great sunrise to-morrow morn- 
ing and am wishing you all a jolly good Easter : I shan't 
have at all a bad one. It is very like Robinson Crusoe 
we treasure up our water supply most carefully (it is 
brought up in stone jars), and we have excellent meals off 
limited and simple rations, by the exercise of a little native 
cunning on the part of our servants, especially mine." 

" Bank Holiday, 5 April 1915, 4.30 p.m. 

" The trenches are only approached and relieved at 
night-time, and even here we are not allowed to stir from 
the house by day on any pretext whatever, and no fires 
are allowed on account of the smoke. (Fires are started 
within doors when darkness falls and we have a hot meal 
then and again in the early morning that is the rule 
however, we do get a fire in the day by using charcoal 
only and lighting up from a candle to one piece and from 
that one piece to the rest, by blowing ; also I have my 
Primus stove.) . . . We are still within rifle-fire range 
here, but of course it is all unaimed fire from the inter- 
mittent conflict going on at the firing line. ... 

" I have a straw bed covered with my tarpaulin sheet 
-(it is useful although I have also the regular military 
rubber ground sheet as well) and my invaluable air- 
pillow. I am of course travelling light and have to carry 


everything in my ' pack ' until I get back to my valise 
and ' rest billets/ so I sleep in my clothes. Simply take 
off my boots and puttees, put my feet in a nice clean sack, 
take off my coat and cover myself up with my British 
Warm coat (put on sideways so as to use its great width 
to the full). Like this I sleep like a top and am absolutely 

" I have been making up an Acrostic for you all to 
guess here it is : 

LIGHTS. My first is speechless, and a bell 
Has often the complaint as well. 
Three letters promising to pay, 
Each letter for a word does stay. 
There's nothing gross about this act ; 
A gentle kiss involving tact. 
A General less his final - k/ 
A hen would have no more to say. 
Our Neenie who is going west 
Her proper name will serve you best. 

WHOLE. My whole, though in a foreign tongue, 
Is Richard's name when he is young. 
The rest is just a shrub or tree 
With spelling i Made in Germany.* 

" That's the lot. The word has ten letters and is 
divided into two halves for the purpose of the Acrostic. 

" My room-mate has changed for to-night, and I have 
got Wyatt, who has just come in covered in mud, after 
four days in the trenches. He is machine-gun officer, and 
works very hard. I am so glad to have him. 

" By the way the support-trenches aren't half bad. 
I didn't want to leave them, but it's all right here too." 

" Thursday, 8 April 1915 

" Here I am back again in ' Rest Billets/ for six days' 
rest. When I set off for the six days' duty I was ardently 
looking forward to this moment, but there is not much 
difference ; here we ' pig ' it pretty comfortably in a house, 
and there we 'pig ' it almost as comfortably in a ' dug- 
out/ There we are exposed to rifle fire, nearly all un- 
aimed, and here we are exposed to shell fire aimed, but 
from about five miles away. 


" On the whole this is the better, because there is 
more room to move about, more freedom for exercise, 
and there is less mud. But you will understand how 
much conditions in the trenches have improved if com- 
parison is possible at all. 

" My platoon (No. n) has been very fortunate ; we have 
had no casualties at all in the last six days. The nearest 
thing to one was yesterday when we were in the firing 
trench, and a man got a bullet through his cap quite close 
to his head. He was peeping over the top, a thing they 
are all told not to do in the daytime. The trenches at our 
point are about a hundred yards apart, and it is really safe 
to look over if you don't do it too often, but it is unneces- 
sary, as we had a periscope and a few loopholes. . . . 

"I am awfully grateful for all the things that have 
been sent, and are being sent. ... I will attach a list of 
wants at the end of this letter. I am very insatiable (that's 
not quite the word I wanted), but I am going on the prin- 
ciple that you and the rest of the family are only waiting 
to gratify my every whim ! So, if I think of a thing I ask 
for it. . . . 

" By the way we have changed our billets here. Our 
last ones have been shelled while we were away a pro- 
digious hole through the roof wrecking the kitchen, but 
not touching our little room at the back. However, it 
is not safe enough for habitation and the natives even 
have left 1 

" Things are awfully quiet here. We thought at first 
that it was ' fishy ' and something was preparing, but I 
don't think so now. It is possibly the principle of ' live 
and let live.' In the trenches if we don't stir them up 
with shots they leave us pretty well alone. Of course 
we are ready for anything all the same. 

" Yes, we see the daily papers here as often as we 
want to (the day's before). Personally, and I think my 
view is shared by all the other officers, I would rather 
read a romance, or anything not connected with this war, 
than a daily paper. . . . 

" Was the Easter sunrise a success ? It wasn't here. 
Cloudy and dull was how I should describe it. Fair to 
fine generally, some rain (the latter not to be taken in 
the American sense). 


" I wonder if you got my Acrostic [see previous letter] 
and whether anybody guessed it ; it was meant to be very 
easy, but perhaps acrostics are no longer the fashion and 
are somewhat boring. I always think they are more fun 
to make than to undo. The solution is a household word 
here, because it is only a half-mile or so away, and pro- 
vides most things." 

[The family had soon guessed the Acrostic, giving the 
place as Dickebusch. The " lights " are 

I o U 

E DIT H.] 

[To a Brother] 

" Billets, Tuesday, 13 April 1915 

"We are all right here except for the shells. When 
I arrived I found every one suffering from nerves and 
unwilling to talk about shells at all. And now I under- 
stand why. The other day a shrapnel burst near our 
billet and a piece of the case caught one of our ser- 
vants (Mr. Laws's) on the leg and hand. He lost the 
fingers of his right hand, and I have been trying to forget 
the mess it made of his right leg ever since. He will 
have had it amputated by now. 

" They make you feel awfully shaky, and when one 
comes over it is surprising the pace at which every one gets 
down into any ditch or hole near. 

" One large shell landed right on the field where the 
men were playing football on Sunday evening. They 
all fell flat, and all, I am thankful to say, escaped injury, 
though a few were within a yard or so of the hole. The 
other subalterns of the Company and I were (mirabile 
dictu) in church at the time. 

" I wonder if you can get hold of some morphia tablets 
[for wounded men]. I think injection is too complicated, 
but I understand there are tablets that can merely be 
placed in the mouth to relieve pain. They might prove 


very useful in the trenches, because if a man is hit in the 
morning he will usually have to wait till dark to be 

" My revolver has arrived this morning." 

" Sunday, 18 April 1915 

" I came out of the trenches on Friday night. It was 
raining, so the surface of the ground was very slippery ; 
and it was the darkest night I can remember. There was 
a good deal of " liveliness ' too, shots were flying around 
more than usual. There were about a hundred of us in our 
party, two platoons (Fletcher's and mine) which had been 
in the fire trenches, though I was only with them for one 
day, Thursday night till Friday night. Captain Taylor 
was in front, then Fletcher's platoon, then Fletcher, then 
my platoon, then me bringing up the rear. We always 
travel in single file, because there are so many obstacles 
to negotiate plank bridges and ' Johnson ' holes being 
the chief. 

" Picture us then shuffling our way across the fields 
behind the trenches at about one mile an hour with fre- 
quent stops while those in front negotiate some obstacle 
(during these stops we crouch down to try and miss most 
of the bullets I). Every few minutes a ' Very ' light will 
go up and then the whole line * freezes ' and remains 
absolutely stationary in its tracks till the light is over. 
A ' Very ' light is an ' asteroid/ (Nogl will explain that.) 
It is fired either by means of a rocket (in the German case) 
or of a special pistol called a ' Very ' pistol after the in- 
ventor (in our case). The light is not of magnesium 
brightness, but is just a bright star light with a little 
parachute attached, so that it falls slowly through the air. 
The light lasts about five seconds. These things are being 
shot up at short intervals all night long. Sometimes 
dozens are in the air together,, especially if an attack 
is on. 

" Well, to go back to Friday night : it took us a 
very long time to get back, and at one point it was hard 
to believe that they hadn't seen us. Lights went up and 
almost a volley whistled over us. We all got right down 
and waited for a bit. Really we were much too far off 
f or them to see us, but we were on rather an exposed bit 


of ground, and they very likely fix a few rifles on to that 
part in the daytime and ' poop ' them off at night. That 
is a favourite plan of theirs, and works very well. 

" We did get here in the end, and had no casualties, 
though we had had one just before leaving the trench. 
A man called Raymond (in my platoon) got shot through 
the left forearm. He was firing over the parapet and 
had been sniping snipers (firing at their flashes). Rather 
a nasty wound through an artery. They applied a tourni- 
quet and managed to stop the bleeding, but he was so 
weak from loss of blood he had to be carried back on a 

" I had noticed this man before, partly on account of 
his name. Last time I was in the fire trenches (about ten 
days ago) I was dozing in my dug-out one evening and 
the Sergeant-Major was in his, next door. Suddenly 
he calls out ' Raymond 1 ' I started. Then he calls 
again ' Raymond ! Come here ! ' I shouted out ' Hallo ! 
What's the matter ? ' But then I heard the other Ray- 
mond answering, so I guessed how it was. . . . 

" While at tea in the next room the post came and 
brought me your letter and one from Alec. Isn't it per- 
fectly marvellous ? You were surprised at the speed of 
my last letter. But how about yours ? The postmark 
is 2.30 p.m. on the i6th at Birmingham, and here it is in 
my hands at 4 p.m. on the i8th ! 

" I was telling you about the difficulties of going to and 
fro between here and the trenches, but you will under- 
stand it is not always like that. If there is a moon, or 
even if there is a clear sky so that we can get the benefit 
of the starlight (which is considerable and much more 
than I thought), matters are much improved, because if 
you can still see the man in front, when he is, say, 5 yards 
in front of you, and can also see the holes instead of find- 
ing them with your person, all that ' waiting for the " tail " 
to close up ' is done away with. . . . 

" Last night Laws, Thomas, and myself each took a 
party of about forty-five down separately, leaving the 
remainder guarding the various billets. Then when we 
returned Fletcher took the rest down. 

" It was a glorious night, starry, with a very young 
and inexperienced moon, and quite dry and warm. I 


would not have minded going down again except that 
I would rather go to bed, which I did. 

" Do you know that joke in Punch where the Aunt 
says : ' Send me a postcard when you are safely in the 
trenches ! ' ? Well, there is a great deal of truth in that 
one feels quite safe when one reaches the friendly 
shelter of the trench, though of course the approaches 
aren't really very dangerous. One is ' thrilled ' by the 
whistle of the bullets near you. That describes the 
feeling best, I think it is a kind of excitement." 

" Thursday, 22 April 1915, 6.50 p.m. 

" I have received a most grand periscope packed, with 
spare mirrors, in a canvas haversack. It is a glorious one 
and I am quite keen to use it, thank you very much 
indeed for it. Thank you also for two sets of ear de- 
fenders which I am going to test when firing off a ' Very ' 
light. A ' parachuted ' star is fired from a brass pistol 
with a bore of about i inch and a barrel of about 6 inches. 
The report is very deafening, I believe though I haven't 
fired one yet. 

" The star, by the way, though it lights up the country 
for some distance, is not too bright to look at. 

" I have just remembered something I wanted to tell 
you, so I will put it in here. 

" When walking to and from the trenches in the dark- 
ness, I find it is a great help to study the stars (not for 
purposes of direction). I know very little about them, 
and I saw a very useful plan in, I think, the Daily 
News of 3 April, called ' The Night Sky in April/ It 
was just a circle with the chief planets and stars shown 
and labelled. The periphery of the circle represented the 

" If you know of such a plan that is quite easily ob- 
tainable I should be glad to have one. The simpler the 
thing the better. 

" The books you had sent me, which were passed on to 
me by Professor Leith, are much appreciated. They 
circulate among officers of this Company like a library. 
At the time they arrived we were running short of reading- 
matter, but since then our Regimental Headquarters have 
come to the rescue and supplied each Company with half 


a dozen books, to be passed on to other Companies after- 

" I enclose an acrostic that I made up while in the 
trenches during our last spell. It seems to be a prolific 
place for this sort of thing." 

(One word of five letters) 

LIGHTS. The lowest rank with lowest pay, 

Don't make this public though, I pray 1 

Inoculation's victim, though 

Defeated still a powerful foe. 

When Government ' full-stop ' would say 

It does so in this novel way. 

The verb's success, the noun's disgrace 

And lands you in a foreign place. 

A king of kings without a roar, 

His kingdom that no anger bore. 

The final goal the end of all 
What all desire, both great and small. 

R. L., 19 April 1915 

(The solution of this is the word Peace given twice once In- 
verted. The first ' light/ which is not * public ' is '- Private ' ; 
the second is ' Enteric ' ; the third is a sign employed in Govern- 
ment telegrams to denote a full-stop, viz., ! aaa ' ; the fourth is 
J Capture ; and the fifth (with apologies) is ' Emp,' and some 
occult reference to Edward VII, not remembered now ; the 
kingdom without anger being Empire without ire. O. J. L.J 

" Friday, 30 April 1915, 4.10 p.m. 

" 1 wish you could see me now. I am having a little 
holiday in Belgium. At the moment I am sitting in the 
shade of a large tree, leaning against its trunk, writing to 
you. The sun is pouring down and I have been sitting in 
it lying on a fallen tree, but it makes me feel lazy, so I 
came here to write (in the shade). 

" Before me, across a moat, is the chateau ruined 
now, but not by old age. It is quite a handsome building, 
two storeys high. It is built of brick with a slate roof ; 
the bricks are colour-washed yellow with a white band 
18 inches deep under the roof ; there are two towers with 
pointed roofs that stand to the front of the house, pro- 
jecting slightly from it, forming bay windows. These 


towers, from the roof down to the ground, are red brick, as 
are the fronts of the dormer windows in the main building. 

" The larger and taller tower is octagonal and stands 
in the middle of the front, the smaller one is square and 
stands on the right corner. On each side of the main 
building are flanking buildings consisting on this (left) 
side of a brick-built palm-house and beyond that again a 
glass-covered conservatory. The other flank has a con- 
servatory also, but I have not explored as far as that. 
The front of the building is about 70 to 80 yards long. 

" The main entrance is on the other or northern side. 
It is reached by a drawbridge over the moat. The house 
on that (north) side is not so much damaged. It has long 
windows with shutters that give it a continental air. 

Small footbr Id g9 
over moat 

'Moat *=? 

I can't sketch it, so I have given you a rough elevation 
from the south. I am sitting to the south-west, just 
across the moat. 

" The place is in an awful mess. In some parts it is 
difficult to tell how the original building went. One can 


see into several of the rooms ; the outer wall has fallen 
away, exposing about three rooms and an attic. In one 
room the floor has dropped at one corner to some 8 feet 
below its proper level, and a bed is just above poised on the 
edge of the room, almost falling out where the room is 

" There is no glass in any of the green-houses it is all 
on the floor. The palm-house is full of green tubs with 
plants in them, mostly overturned. 

" In the garden the trees are blossoming, some of the 
fruit trees are covered with white blossom ; but many, 
even of these, are lying flat and blossoming in the moat. 
The drive runs down to the road on the south side in an 
absolutely straight line, flanked by tall trees. But many 
of these are down too. I was lying on one just now. The 
garden is in good order, though getting a little out of hand. 
There is a small plantation of gooseberry bushes that looks 
very healthy. Shell holes are all about, however. 

" The house, although it is not on an eminence, com- 
mands a good view to the southward and has a fine view 
of the German lines, which are slightly raised just here. 
The enemy evidently suspected this chateau was used as 
an observation post, as indeed it may have been. 

" We came out of the trenches on Wednesday night 
into Reserve Billets, and I was placed with No. o platoon 
(instead of my own) in a little house not fa* from this 
chiteau. We are not allowed to leave it by day, or rather 
we are not allowed to show ourselves on the south side of 
it, as it might draw shell-fire on to it. But I managed to 
sneak away to the north under cover of a hedge without 
any risk of being seen. 

" After being relieved in the trenches on Wednesday, 
and marching back and having a meal with the other 
officers of C Company in the Reserve Billets (a brewery), 
it was one o'clock before I got to bed in our little house. 
And we had to ' stand to arms ' in the morning for an hour 
while dawn was breaking (we always do, and at dusk too). 
So after this I went to sleep till a p.m. I sleep in an out- 
house with no door, on straw laid on a brick floor. My 
ground-sheet on the straw, my coat over me, my feet in a 
sack and an air-cushion under my head, and I can sleep 
as peacefully as at home. The place is swarming with rats 


and mice, you can hear them directly you lie still. They 
go ' plop, plop, plop,' on the straw overhead, as if they 
were obliged to take long strides owing to their feet sink- 
ing into the straw. Immediately over my head, I should 
judge, there is a family of young rats by the noise. 
Occasionally they have a stampede and a lot of dust comes 
down on my face. 

" But one gets used to this, and muttering ' Nom d'un 
chien ! ' one turns the other cheek. By the way, they say 
these rats ' stand to ' at dawn, just as we do. 

" I am terrified of a rat running over my face, but my 
servant sleeps with me, so I console myself that the 
chances are just even that they won't choose me. I wish 
he wouldn't snore though he's lowering the odds. 

" Last night we had to turn out for fatigue parties. 
I took a party down to one of the fire trenches with ' knife 
rests.' These are sections of barbed wire entanglement. 
They are made by fixing cross-pieces on the ends of a long 
pole. The tips of these cross-pieces are joined together 
with barbed wire laid parallel to the centre pole. Then 
the whole is wound with more barbed wire laid on spirally, 
thus : [a sketch] 

These are slung out in front of the trenches and fixed to- 
gether. They are now fixed also to the trench, because 
the Germans used to harpoon them and draw them over to 
their own side ! 

" Well, we set off about n p.m. and took twenty-two 
of these down. We didn't exactly bless the full moon 
although it showed us the holes and obstructions in the 
way. Still, we had no casualties and made good time. 
We got back about midnight. So I only slept till 12.30 
this morning ! Of course I had to get up for an hour 
at dawn. I used the time to brew mysdf some cocoa. 
I am getting an expert cook, and can make that ' Bivouac ' 
cocoa taste like the very finest chocolate. . . . 

" Just before going into the trenches I received another 
of those splendid parcels of cabbage and apples. The 
apples are simply splendid. The cabbage is good, but I 
never cared very much for it it is medicinal in this case. 
However, it is great to have such a fine supply of green 
stuff instead of none at all. The Mess does appreciate it. 

" I have been supplying our Mess (C Company) with 


butter. And the supply sent up to now has just effected 
this with none to spare. But I don't know whether you 
want to do this, and that is why I suggested cutting down 
the supply. I don't want you to think any of it has been 
wasted though it hasn't, and is splendid stuff. . . . 

" In the trenches one is not always doing nothing. 
These last three days in I have been up all night. I had a 
working party in two shifts working aU night and all three 
nights, digging communication trenches. I used to go to 
bed about 4.30 a.m. and sleep till lunch-time, and per- 
haps lie down again for a bit in the afternoon. That is 
why my letters have not been so frequent. 

" It is extraordinary that what is wanted at the mo- 
ment is not so much a soldier as a civil engineer. There 
are trenches to be laid out and dug, and the drainage of 
them to be thought put and carried through. Often the 
sides have to be ' riveted ' or staked, and a flooring of 
boards put in, supported on small piles. 

" Then there is the water-supply, where one exists. I 
have had great fun arranging a ' source ' in my trench 
(the support trench that I have been in these last three 
days and that I have been in often before). A little stream, 
quite clear and drinkable after boiling, runs out at one 
place (at about i pint a minute !) and makes a muddy 
mess of the trenches near. By damming it up and putting 
a water-bottle with the bottom knocked in on top of the 
dam, the water runs in a little stream from the mouth of 
the bottle. It falls into a hole large enough to receive a 
stone water- jar, and then runs away down a deep trough 
cut beside the trench. Farther down it is again dammed 
up to form a small basin which the men use for washing ; 
and it finally escapes into a kind of marshy pond in rear 
of the trenches. 

" I quite enjoyed this job, and there are many like it ; 
plank bridges to be put up, seats and steps to be cut, etc. 
One officer put half a dozen of his men on to making a 
folding bed ! But it was not for himself, but for his 
Captain, who has meningitis and can't sleep. The men 
enjoy these jobs too ; it is much better than doing nothing. 

' I will creep back to my quarters now and make my- 
self some tea on my ' Primus ' (no fires are allowed). 

" A cuckoo has been singing on a tree near me in full 


view. (It left hurriedly when one of our guns went off 
close behind the chateau.) The first time I have ever seen 
one, I think. It is amazing how tame the animals get. 
They have so much ground to themselves in the daytime 
the rats especially ; they flourish freely in the space 
between the trenches. ' 

M Things are fairly quiet and easy here just now." 

pn one of his letters to me (22 April 1915), he said he had 
plenty of time now to watch the stars, and would like a set of 
star maps or something in order to increase his knowledge of 
them. Accordingly, I sent him a planisphere which I happened 
to have an ingenious cardboard arrangement which can be 
turned so as to show, in a rough way, the stars visible in these 
latitudes at any time of day and any period of the year. 
O. J. L.] 

" May Day 1915, 3.20 p.m. 

" Thank you very much for the planisphere and for 
your letter. I have often seen the planisphere before, but 
never appreciated it until now. 

" As to the ' Very ' pistol, I quite agree that the 
' barrel ' is too short. If it were longer the light would be 
thrown farther, which would be much better. As it is, 
it falls between us and the Germans. 

" The German lights, which I now learn are fired from 
a kind of mortar and not by a rocket as I thought, are 
much better than ours ; they give a better and steadier, 
fatter light, and they are thrown well behind our trenches. 
However, ours are much better, and theirs are worse than 
they used to be. . . . 

" They have not turned the gas on to us here, though 
on some days I have smelled distinct traces coming down 
wind from the north. I should say it was chlorine rather 
than SO 2 that I smelled. I don't know whether the 
ammonia preventive would be better than the soda one. 
In any case, the great thing is that one is provided. The 
soda method is the one in use, I believe, in the chlorine 
works at Widnes and elsewhere/' 

" Tuesday, 3 May 1915, 12.40 p.m. 
"CFor the first three days we are out here in new 
billets officers in a comfortable little house. Last three 
days of our ' rest ' (!) we are going into a wood quite close 


to our ' Reserve Billets.' We axe in ' support ' in case of 
a sudden attack. Roads are so much knocked about by 
shells that traffic is limited and restricted. So we might 
not be able to support quick enough unless we were 

" Everything is still very much upset, due to the pene- 
tration of our (French) line. They have been shelling our 
village from the rear (1) and most of the companies have 
had to quit. We (C Company) are well back now. . . . 

" Two of our platoons went digging last night. Mine 
was one. We left here about eight o'clock, and I got 
back at i a.m., and then I sat up with another subaltern 
(Fletcher) after I had had some supper until the other 
man (Thomas) had come in and eaten. We went to bed 
at 3 a.m. Breakfast at nine this morning, and we are 
resting. However, I am going to have an absolutely 
slack day to-day. A bath too, if I can manage it. . . . 

" Last night the moon got up very late and was quite 
useless. They fire more when there is no light, they get 
scared at least uneasy ; they fire off ' Very ' lights con- 
stantly, and let off volleys. We lie absolutely flat while 
this goes on. It is a funny sight ; the men look like*a 
row of starfish ! " 

" Tuesday, n May 1915, 9.15 a.m. 
(really Wednesday the I2th. I had got wrong) 

" We are within view of a well-known place [no doubt 
Ypres. O. J. L.], and the place has been on fire in three 
or four places for about two days, and is still going strong. 
A magnificent spectacle at night. The place is, I believe, 
a city of ruins and dead, and there is probably no one to 
put a fire out. Probably, too, a fire is rather a good 
thing thaii otherwise ; the place must be terribly in need 
of purifying. 

" I was awfully interested in father's dream. 1 Your 
letter is dated the 8th, and you say that the other night 
he dreamt that I was in the thick of the fighting, but that 
they were taking care of me from the other side. 

" Well, I don't know about ' the thick of the fighting/ 
but I have been through what I can only describe as a 
hell of a shelling with shrapnel. My diary tells me it 

1 See Note by O. J. L. at the end of this letter. 


was on the 7th, at about 10.15 a.m. Our Company were 
ordered forward from one set of dug-outs to others nearer 
the firing line, and the formation adopted was platoons 
in single file, with intervals between. That is, four 
columns of about fifty men each, in single file, with about 
20 to 50 yards between each column. I was the third 
platoon, tnough I was not with my own but with No. 9. 
Fletcher brought up the last one, thus : 

No. 10 x No. 9 x No. 12 x No. n x 

Fr. Me Ths. Capt. 

Direction of march -> 

(My platoon is No. n. No. 9*3 platoon commander, Laws, 
is in England on sick leave, as his nerves are all wrong.) 

" Well, anyhow, we had not gone far before the 
gunners saw us, and an aeroplane was flying along above 
and with us. They sent over some ' Johnsons/ but these 
all went too far; we were screened by a reservoir em- 
bankment. However, we had to pass through ruined 
village and they knew it, so they put shrapnel over it. 
Still we were unaffected. But when we came out into 
the open on the far side, we caught it properly. Shell 
after shell came over and burst above us, and when I and 
about three men behind me had just turned a corner one 
burst above, in exactly the spot I should have wished it 
to if I had been the enemy. I looked up and saw the air 
full of flying pieces, some large and some small. These 
spattered down all round us. I was untouched, but my 
servant, who was immediately behind me, was hit on the 
knee, but only wounded slightly. He was rather scared. 
I led him back round the corner again and put him in a 
ditch. The rest of the platoon got in too, while I was 
doing this. I thought that was the best thing they could 
do until the shelling ceased, but Fletcher shouted that 
we must get on, whatever happened. 

" So I called the men out again, and, leaving a man 
with the wounded, we set off. I don'! believe it was 
right, but we just walked along. It felt rather awful. 
(When one is retiring it is important not to let the men 
' double,' as they get out of hand ; but in this case we were 
advancing, so I think we might have done so.) I felt 


very much protected. It was really a miracle that we 
weren't nearly all ' wiped out/ The shrapnel seemed 
very poor stuff. As it was, we had one man killed and 
about five or six injured, all more or less slightly. 

" We moved up into a support trench that same 
evening, and after a couple of days we moved a few yards 
farther to these trenches, which are also support trenches. 
Things are very quiet, and I am enjoying myself very 
much. If it wasn't for the unpleasant sights one is 
liable to see, war would be a most interesting and pleasant 

" My friends the other officers of C Company have 
given me the honorary position of ' O.C. Works.' One is 
always ' O.C. something or other ' out here all but the 
Colonel, he is ' C.O.' Orders for the day read : ' O.C. 
Companies will do so-and-so.' Then there are O.C. 
Details, O.C. Reinforcements, etc. ' O.C.' of course 
stands for ' officer commanding.' Well, I am ' O.C. 
Works,' and have a fine time. I just do any job I fancy, 
giving preference to trench improvement. It is fine to 
have at one's disposal a large squad of men with shovels 
(or without). They fill sandbags and carry them, they 
carry timber and saw it, and in short do anything that 
is required. One can accomplish something under these 

" 6 p.m. 

" We have been told that we are being relieved to- 
night, and that we are going back to our old place (No. 2). 
So everything should be as before, once we are back. We 
may not manage to get all the way back to-night, as we 
cannot travel by daylight as most of the road is under 
direct observation. If daylight catches us we shall 
encamp in dug-outs en route. 

" I am rather disappointed that we are going to-night, 
as Fletcher and I were going to rebuild our dug-out here. 
We both got very keen indeed and had laid out the plan 
carefully. (He has been an architect.) 

" I had another disappointment when I was back in 
the wood (as supports). It reminds me of one of our 
Quartermaster-Sergeants in Edinburgh. He is an Irish- 
man, O'Brien. I found him on the platform while we 
were waiting to see a draft off ; he looked very despondent 


I asked him how he was, and was surprised when he 
replied, ' I've had a reverse, sorr ! ' It turned out that 
he had applied to headquarters for an improvement in 
his position, and was told he didn't deserve any. It had 
almost broken his heart ! 

" Well, / had a reverse. I was given the job of 
building a hut and was nearly through with it when we 
were ordered away. If we get back to the old wood 
again I shall go on with it, in spite of whatever the present 
tenants may have done in the way of completing it (our 
guns are now ' going at it ' hammer and tongs). 

" I did enjoy laying the sandbags and building a 
proper wall with 'headers' and 'stretchers/ I got a 
very good testimonial too, for the Sergeant asked me in 
all seriousness whether I was a brick-setter in civil life. 
I was awfully proud. 

" Later 

" (I had to leave off here because we were ordered 
to ' fire-rapid ' in between periods of our artillery fire, 
and I had to turn out to watch.) " 


The dream referred to, near the beginning of this long letter 
to his mother, Mr. J. Arthur Hill remembers that I told him of, 
in a letter dated 7 May 1915, which he has now returned ; and 
I reproduce it here : 

"To J. A. H. 

11 7 May 1915 

I do not reckon that I often have conscious intuitions ; and 
when I have had vivid dreams they have not meant anything, 
though once or twice I have recorded them because I have 
them seldom. I happen, however, to have had an intuition this 
morning, before I was more than half awake, which, though 
not specially vivid, perhaps I had better record, namely, that 
an attack was going on at the present moment, that my son 
was in it, but that ' they ' were taking care of him. I had this 
clearly in mind before seeing the morning papers ; and indeed 
I do not know that there is anything in the morning papers 
suggesting it, since of course their news is comparatively old. 
One might have surmised, however, that there would be a 
struggle for Hill 60, and I know that my son is not far off 
Ypres. (By the way, I have been told that the Flemish 
Belgians really do call it ' Wipers ' ; it does not sound likely, 
and it needs confirmation. I know of course that our troops 
are said to call it so, which is natural enough.) O. J. L." 


I now (August 1916) notice for the first time that the coin- 
cidence in time between dream and fact is rather good, especially 
as it was the only dream or * impression ' that I remember having 
during the war. Practically I do not dream. 

But as this incident raises the question of possible presenti- 
ment I must deny that we had any serious presentiment about 
Raymond. My wife tells me that her anxiety about Raymond, 
though always present, was hardly keen, as she had an idea 
that he would be protected. She wrote to a friend on 22 March 
1915 : - 

*' . . . I ought to get him back safe. I have a hole in my 
heart and shall have till he comes back. I only saw him 
for the inside of an hour before he left, as I was away 
when he came home for six hours. ..." 

At the same time I must admit that on the morning of 
15 September 1915 (the day after Raymond's death, which we 
did not know of till the i7th) I was in an exceptional state of 
depression ; and though a special game, to which I had been 
looking forward, on the No. i Course at Gullane had been arranged 
with Rowland Waterhouse, I could not play a bit. Not ordinary 
bad play, but total incompetence ; so much so that after seven 
holes we gave up the game, and returned to the hotel. To make 
sure of the date, I wrote to Rowland Waterhouse, asking him 
when that abortive match occurred, since I knew that it was his 
last day at Gullane. He replies : 

II Violet and I left Gullane for Musselburgh on Wednesday, 
15 September. Our final match ended that morning on the 
eighth tee " [which that year was on the reservoir hill]. 

One more dream I may as well now mention : 
After the family had returned home from Scotland and 
elsewhere, near the end of September 1915, and begun to settle 
down, Alec, who had felt Raymond's death exceedingly, told me 
that the night before he heard the news or rather the early 
morning of the same day, 17 September he had had an extra- 
ordinarily painful and vivid dream, quite an exceptional occurrence 
for him, and one of which he had spoken to a manageress in the 
hotel near Swansea where he was staying, describing it as the 
worst he had ever had in his life. He did not know that it had 
any significance, and neither do I, as the dream, though rather 
ghastly, was not about Raymond or anyone in particular ; but 
it seemed an odd coincidence that the ill news should be, so to 
speak, on the way, at the time of a quite exceptional and painful 
impression. The person to whom he told the dream handed 
him the telegram a few hours later. He has written the dream 
down, but it need not be reproduced. 

No real prevision is involved in any of this, unless it be that 
of an hour or two in my own impression, in May ; but for general 
remarks on the question of the possibility of prevision Chapter V 
in Part III may be referred to 


" Friday, 14 May 1915 

" I had a glorious hot bath yesterday ; Fletcher and 
I went up to the brewery here. The bath is zinc, and 
full length, and we have as much water, and as hot, as 
we like. . . . 

" I spent some time too stemming the leaks in the roof 
of our shed. With my two waterproof sheets I have rigged 
up a kind of chute above my bed, so that any water that 
comes through the roof is led down behind my head. I 
don't know what happens to it there. I thought of lead- 
ing it across on to the man next me, as the Germans used 
to do in the winter campaign. They fitted a pump in 
their trenches and led the delivery pipe forward, so that 
the water used to run into ours only the plan was 
discovered. . . . 

" I wonder if you saw the appreciation of the soda cake 
on the back of my letter from the woods. M.P. stands for 
Mess President. Fletcher was M.P. and was a very good 
one. I am now, as he has done it for a long time and is 
tired. . . . 

" As cheerful and well and happy as ever. Don't 
think I am having a rotten time I am not/' 

" Sunday, 5.40 p.m., 16 May 1915 
" We had a very fine piece of news yesterday. Over 
three weeks ago we were called out one night and were 
urgently required to dig a certain ne\v trench behind our 
lines. The men worked splendidly and got the job done 
in a very short time (working of course in complete dark- 
ness). The next day the Brigadier-General inspected the 
trench and sent in a complimentary message about it to 
our Colonel. The day after he complimented us again f or 
the same piece of work 1 Well, we have had several such 
jobs to do, and just recently we have been to Hill 60, where 
the bulk of our work was deepening the trenches and im- 
proving the parapets. We were lent for this purpose to 
another Division (the Division that is at the moment 
occuping that area), and were away from here exactly a 
week. We got a splendid testimonial from the General of 
this other Division, who told our Colonel he had got ' a 
top-hole battalion/ Arising out of all this, we have now 


been selected as a ' Pioneer Battalion. 1 We are relieved 
from all ordinary trench work for some time to come. We 
simply go out at night and dig trenches or build parapets 
and so forth, and have the day to ourselves. This was 
arranged yesterday, and last night we went out and re- 
turned here at 1.30 a.m. The work is more or less under 
fire, but only from stray shots and nothing very serious* 
Our Colonel is awfully pleased that we have done so well ; 
and we are all pleased with the new arrangement. One 
great advantage is that we can settle down in our billets 
and are not continually having to pack up everything and 
move off. We can now start and make tables, chairs, 
beds, a proper door for the hut, a glass window, and so 
on. ... 

" As to aeroplanes, when one passes overhead a whistle 
is blown and every one either takes cover or stands per- 
fectly still. The men are forbidden to look up. Then the 
whistle is blown several times when the danger is past. 
I am afraid, though, these regulations are more honoured 
in the breach than the observance. 

" We had quite a nice informal service here this after- 
noon sitting in a field. The chaplain has the rank of 
Major and has been out here seven months. 

" Yesterday the Captain, Fletcher, and myself went for 
a ride on horses. We went about five miles out, stopped 
for about twenty minutes at a little inn (the last in 
Belgium on that particular road), and then came back 
again. The country was perfectly lovely, though I did 
not appreciate it as much as I otherwise would have done, 
as I had a trooper's saddle and the Cap ain would trot. I 
got most awfully sore going out, and thought I should never 
be able to get back. However, I discovered ?. method at 
last, and that was to go at a full gallop. So I alternately 
went at a walk and ' hell for leather/ and got back in com- 
parative comfort. I thoroughly enjoyed it ; it was very 
bad for the horse, I am afraid, on the stone setts (pav), but 
sometimes I could get him on to the softer bits at the side. 
I was terribly afraid some one would think the horse was 
running away with me and ' block ' him, so I had to look 
as pleased as possible. And really I was pleased, it was 
such a blessed relief after that awful trotting. I trotted 
along in rear of the other two until I could stand it no 


longer, and then I encouraged my nag and hit him until 
he broke into a canter, and then I roared past the others, 
who cursed like anything because theirs wanted to gallop 
too. My horse's canter changed imperceptibly into a full 
gallop, and I ' got down to it ' and felt like a jockey. After 
about half a mile I would walk until the others came up 
and passed me, and then I would go off again. All the 
same, I am very sore. 

" Good-bye for the present ; it is lovely hot weather 
and we are all well fit and happy." 

" Tuesday, 18 May 1915, 5.15 p.m. 

" MY DEAR NORAH AND BARBARA, I don't expect I 
am far wrong in attributing my ripping present of dates 
and figs to you two. I did enjoy them, and they are not 
finished yet. 

" They arrived by the first post after we had returned 
from our little trip. We were at Hill 60 ; it was so inter- 
esting and rather exciting, although we were there chiefly, 
I think, to improve the trenches, which were very shallow 
and dangerous when we arrived. 

" The men worked splendidly all night and most of 
the day, and, when we left, the trenches were vastly im- 
proved and quite habitable. We also made some entirely 
new ones. We are now kept for this sort of job only, and 
we go out working at nights and sleep by day. 

" I must explain to you about ' standing to.' A pro- 
portion of the men are always awake in the trenches to 
guard against surprises, for as the most likely times for an 
attack are at dawn and at dusk, everybody has to be 
awake and ready then. Of course it does interfere with 
your sleep, and you do not get very much as a rule in the 
trenches, but that is why you are not there for more than 
about three days at a time. In the ' supports ' you 
* stand to ' so as to be ready to reinforce the front line 
quickly in case of an attack. Out in 'Rest Billets/ 
I am glad to say, it is no longer necessary. 

" I am so sorry, my friend Fletcher has just gone off 
this morning for a rest cure. I shall miss him awfully. 
He is about five miles away and I am going to ride over to- 
morrow to see him. But later on he will probably go back 
to England. His nerves are all wrong and he needs a rest. 


" Good-bye for now, and very best wishes to you both. 
Your very loving brother, RAYMOND " 

" I hope you get my communiques regularly from home 
(swank). Some one must have the time ot their lives 
copying out all the stuff I write. I hope, however, there 
are a few grains in the bundle of chaff (I'm fishing again) ! 

" You say, Norah, that you don't think the chateau 
was as quiet as I described. Well, provided I mentioned 
our gun, that went off at occasional intervals close behind 
it with a terrific report, it was just as I described a 
peaceful summer afternoon. I know that people think 
that everything in Belgium is chaos and slaughter, but it 
isn't so. For instance, where Fletcher is, is a charming 
country place with trees and fields and everything in full 
green. Simply ripping. If I had only had a motor-cycle 
to see it from instead of a trotting horse I should have 
enjoyed it even more ! R." 

" Wednesday, 19 May 1915, 12.50 p.m. 

" You must know that we have now only three officers 
in our Company I am very sorry indeed to lose Fletcher. 
He went oft for a rest cure yesterday morning to a place 
about five miles from here. He is my greatest friend in 
the Battalion, so I miss him very much and hope he won't 
be long away. He will probably go back to England, 
however, as his nerves are all wrong. He is going the 
same way as Laws did and needs a complete rest., I am 
going to ride over to see him this afternoon with the 
Captain. I am afraid it won't be ' good going ' as the 
roads are thick with mud. The slightest rain, and they 
are as bad as ever. 

" I told you that I was Mess President (M.P.). I am 
sure you would smile to see me ordering the meals, and 
inspecting the joints. I don't know anything about 
them, and when the cook calls me up specially to view a 
joint I have hastily to decide whether he means me to dis- 
parage it or the reverse. However, I am usually safe in 
running it down/' 

" Thursday, 20 May 1915, 9.10 a.m. 

" W e rode over and saw Fletcher yesterday and had 
tea with him. He is with about twenty other similar 


cases in a splendid chateau (this one is not ruined and 
has magnificent grounds). Unfortunately this is probably 
the very worst possible treatment he could have. He 
has nothing to do, no interest in anything, and no society 
except people who, like himself, want cheering. He does 
not read, he does not even walk about the grounds. He 
cannot sleep much, and he said he did not know exactly 
what he did. Under these conditions I know it will not 
be long before he is sent home. Brooding is just the 
very worst thing for him. He sees all the past horrors 
all over again ; things which, at the time, he shut his 
mind to. The best treatment (even better than home, 
/ think) would be to send him back for a month or so 
to Crosby. He would then have plenty to occupy his 
mind and would have cheerful companions. . . ." 

" 6.20p.m. 

" I have attached a list of a few slang terms and 
curious expressions in use in tKis Regiment and I believe 
universal at the moment. Some of these are amazing, 
and it is difficult to trace the origin. ' Drumming up ' 
is one, and ' wind up ' another. I saw an old Belgian 
cart yesterday, a three-wheeled affair. It had been over- 
turned on its side and the spokes of the lowest wheel 
had been broken. Well, some one had ' drummed up ' 
on them every one had disappeared. These men here 
will ' drum up ' on anything. ' Drumming up ' on a 
thing does not mean lighting a fire on it but with it. 

" When we were at that place where we were for a 
week, there was a most peculiar state of affairs. The 
Germans were holding a small piece of trench joining, 
and in line with, ours. They were only separated from 
us by double barricades theirs and ours. They corre- 
sponded to the meat in a sandwich. [A sketch is omitted.] 
When I say ' ours ' I mean the English. I was not 
actually in this trench, but in the one just behind. The 
trench on one side of the ' meat ' was held by one of our 
Companies, and the other by another Regiment. . . ." 

" Friday, 10.20 a.m. 

" My nickname in the Mess is ' Maurice ' (with a 
French pronunciation) ; I am called after the small boy 
in the grocery shop here. The good dame always says 


' Oui, monsieur le lieutenant ! ' ' Non, monsieur le 
lieutenant ! ' to everything one says ; she gets in about 
six to the minute. Well, we used to imitate her after our 
visits to the shop, and one day she called out ' Maurice ' ; 
so Fletcher calls me ' Maurice/ and I reply, ' Oui, monsieur 
le lieutenant/ " 


A fatigue party carrying water. 

(to rhyme with ' pinned up ') To be 

uneasy, ' on edge/ 
Making a fire for the purpose of 

warming food. 
A wound that necessitates invaliding 


Real, genuine. 
A short period of considerable firing 

in the trenches. 
A cramped dwelling-place, usually 

above ground. 
An hour of preparedness at dawn 

and at dusk when every one is 

awake and wears his equipment 

(in trenches and supports only). 
The finish of '- stand-to.' 
Barbed wire in sections. 
A ' soft ' thing. 

To report oneself ill to the doctor. 
To lie down, go to bed. 

R. L. 







DUG-OUT . . 




To Go SICK . 




[To a Brother] 

" 26 May 1915 

" I expect you have read it, but I want to recommend 
to you Simon Dale, by Anthony Hope. 

" We had the gas over here on Monday morning about 
3 or 4 a.m. Although it was coming from a point about 
four miles away, as we learnt afterwards, it was very 
strong and made our eyes smart very much. 

" We have got hold of some liqueurs from Railhead, 
a large bottle of Chartreuse and one of Cura9ao. 

" Good-bye and good luck." 

" Saturday, 29 May 1915, 8.30 p.m. 
" We have again done a little move, this time with 


bag and baggage. We are now on the outskirts of 
' No. i,' and due west of it. The men have built them- 
selves dug-outs along a hedge and we (C Coy. officers) 
are installed in an untouched chateau. Quite com- 
fortable. Fine lofty rooms. We only use part of the 
house. We have the kitchen, and a large dining-room 
on the ground floor. We sleep upstairs on the first floor 
(our valise on hay). At least, Thomas and I do, the 
Captain and Case have moved down and sleep on large 
fat palliasses in the dining-room ! We have the rest of 
the house empty to ourselves to-night, but various head- 
quarter staffs seem to come in turn and occupy two of 
the other ground floor rooms occasionally. 

" We have been out two nights digging on the opposite 
side of the town, but we have not been ordered out 
to-night, so far. 

" I notice I have now been gazetted back to 15 
August, the same as most of my contemporaries. 

" There has been a suggestion made that I should 
take a course of machine-gun instruction in order that I 
might act as understudy to our present Machine-Gun 
Officer (M.G.O.) who is Roscoe, and is the successor to 
Wyatt. I agreed, but it may have ' fallen through ' 
owing to the move. If it comes off I shall go for a 
fortnight's course to a place which I will call No. 3 
[probably St. Omer], 

" I got a letter from you to-day about 5 p.m. I was 
so glad. 

" No, I am not making things out better than they 
really are. I like to write mostly about the pleasant 
parts, of course. We have our unpleasant moments, 
shelling and so on, but no very bad times as yet. Being 
on tenterhooks is quite the worst part. 

" As regards Fletcher being worse than us, of course 
he came out much earlier. He left Edinburgh for the 
Front on 4 January, and Laws left on 31 December. He 
has had some awful times and the winter campaign, and 
in any case the length of time one is exposed to the 
mental strain and worry makes a difference. I do my 
best to keep cheerful and happy all the time I don t 
believe in meeting trouble half-way. If there was some 
indication of the termination of the war it would help 


matters the unending vista is apt to be rather dis- 
heartening at times. I am very glad Italy is in at last. 
" By the way, Fletcher has not been sent to England 
(Blighty) after all. He is at Versailles, in the No. 4 
General Hospital there, having a nice time if he can enjoy 
it. This hospital is the Trianon Palace. The Captain 
had a letter from him in which he sent his love to 
' Maurice ' and ' his lordship ' (that's Thomas)." 

" 2 June 1915, 4.45 p.m. 

" Our interpreter is a Belgian, and is a very nice man. 
He does our shopping for us in the town, which is ten miles 
or so away, and (as now arranged) he makes the journey 
twice a week. It is very funny to hear him talk, he picks 
up the soldiers 1 idioms and uses them in the wrong places. 
One he is very fond of is the expression ' Every time ' ! 
He puts such a funny emphasis on it. 

" The last member of our Mess is a man who has just 
come out and has not long had his commission. He used 
to be Regimental Sergeant-Major to our ist Battalion 
and has had about twenty-six years' service, so he knows 
his job. 

" Unfortunately, however, his arrival is not an un- 
mixed blessing. The Captain is seized with enthusiasm 
and wants to make our Company the finest Company in 
the Battalion. The result is that we have now nothing 
but parades and much less rest than before. When we 
were turned into a pioneer battalion the Colonel told the 
men that they would go digging at night and would do 
nothing else except for rifle inspection. Now, however, 
we have in addition an hour's drill of various sorts in the 
morning and a lecture to N.C.O.s in the afternoon, at 
which all subalterns have to attend and take notes. On 
the day following a rest night we have to be up about 
seven o'clock, and be on parade while the men do half an 
hour's physical exercise before breakfast. Then we have 
an hour and a half's drill afterwards and the lecture. 
And these parades seem to be growing. I am afraid they 
will wear us all out and the men as well. Thomas feels 
it most and is very worried although he is Senior 
Subaltern in the Company he is left right out of things. 
I am afraid of his going like Laws and Fletcher did. 


Some ' rankers ' are very good fellows. They bring 
tremendous experience with them, but, on the other hand, 
we bring something too, and when they ride the high 
horse they can be very unbearable. ... _ 

" I got a supply of paraffin to-day ; D Company 
has bought a huge barrel of it, and I sent over a petrol 
tin for some. They gave me nearly two gallons and asked 
if I could let them have a window in exchange ! I 
hunted round and found quite a good loose one and sent 
it across with my compliments. The reason they have 
bought up so much paraffin is because their Captain has 
presented pocket Primuses to his men. Each section of 
twelve men has one between them, with one man in 
charge of it. It is a killing sight to see their Company 
sitting in a field and drumming up ! 

" The Belgian cooking stove is rather a curious thing. 
It is of the same design in every house apparently. It 
consists of a metal urn to hold the fire ; this has a remov- 
able lid for which you can substitute a kettle or pan 
which just fits the round opening. The urn stands about 
3 feet from the wall and has a flat-shaped iron chimney 
leading into the main chimney. This iron chimney can 
be used for heating pots or for warming plates. The 
base of the urn is an ash collector. You will see that 
there is no oven ; this is built separately and is a 
brick affair with a separate fire to it. [Sketch.] " 

" Thursday, 3 June 1915, 1.30 p.m. 

" I am all right again to-day ; you mustn't pay any 
attention to my grumbles, it just depends what I feel 
like ; and I am going to stir things up about these par- 
ades. We had a fine time last night very exciting. 
We went through the heart of the city and it is still very 
much on fire. The enemy keeps sending an occasional 
shell into it to keep it going. Just on the far side is a 
graveyard, and this has been ' crumped ' out of existence 
nearly ! It is an unpleasant place to pass now. 

" The town is almost unbelievable. I don't think 
anyone would credit that they could do so much damage 
and not leave a single house untouched, without entering 
the place at all. [Ypres again, probably.] 

" Our digging last night was near a small road much 


used by transport (which is very audible at night). As 
the enemy can hear the rumble of the horse-drawn carts 
quite plainly, they kept on sending shrapnel over, and 
we had quite a warm time of it. We were quite glad 
to get away again. (No one was hit while we were there.) 

" I was very interested in father's pamphlet on ' War 
and Christianity/ and I have passed it on to the others. 
I like the way he gets right outside and looks at things 
from above. It is a very soothing thing to read. 1 . . . 

" I had such an interesting talk with the interpreter 
yesterday (his rank is the equivalent of one of our Ser- 
geant-Majors). He was a merchant in Morocco, and 
chucked up everything and came and joined the Belgian 
army as a private. He fought at Namur, Antwerp, and 
other places, and is most awfully keen. He was offered 
the job of Interpreter to the British Army, and, thinking 
he could help more by that means and also partly for 
monetary considerations, he took the job. He understood 
he would be fighting with us in the trenches, but they 
have put him on to shopping for us ! He is awfully dis- 
appointed. He rides up when he can, and when we went 
up to Hill 60 he went up with our transports and showed 
them the way and helped them a lot, although shells were 
falling all round. He is a most gentlemanly man ; his 
name is Polchet. . . . 

" I had a letter from Violet and another from Mar- 
garet yesterday. I understand they have gone up to 
Edinburgh now ; I shall like to go up there too ' after the 
war.' I believe Violet is getting my room ready for me 
in their house. I like everything very plain, just a valise 
and a little hay, and then you see if I am hungry in the 
night . . . 

" P.S. I had a most interesting letter from Oliver. 
His discussion of Italy's motives is fine. I like hearing 
what people think of events; we are apt to get very 
warped views out here unless we have the other point of 
view occasionally." 

" Sunday, 6 June 1915, 12 p.m. 

" The Mess was thrown into the greatest state of 
excitement yesterday by the arrival of kippers ! How 

1 This must have been part of my book, The War and After. O. J. L. 


splendid ! We had a grand breakfast this morning, quite 
like the summer holidays again breakfast after a bathe 
with Alec of course ! . . . 

" By the way, I did not present the last lot of asparagus 
to the Mess this was not because we didn't appreciate 
it, but because I felt so sorry for M. Polchet (our inter- 
preter), and I wondered if he had any green stuff or 
luxuries. So I sent it over to him. And do you know 
what he has done ? He has just sent me a shallow wooden 
box with a thick cotton- wool pad in it. In the pad are 
six hollows, and in each hollow is a ripping nectarine. 
Isn't it fine of him ? 

" We have roses picked every day for the Mess-room ; 
it does improve it. The other evening we had a specially 
nice meal. We sat round the polished table with candles 
in the centre and bowls of roses round them (as a matter 
of fact the bowls were old tinned-fruit tins, but what\of 
that). The food was very special, though I can't remember 
what it was, but to crown all there was in the room just 
across the passage ... a real fiddler with a real fiddle. 
I really don't know how he managed to bring a fiddle out 
here ; he is a private in the Royal Garrison Artillery, and 
plays simply beautifully. He has long hair and just a 
suggestion of side whiskers, and large boots, and, but 
that he would not be complimented, looks like a 

" He started off by playing Grand Opera I believe 
and he gave us the Intermezzo from ' Cavalleria Rusti- 
cana.' Then he gave us ' Gipsy Love ' and the ' Merry 
Widow/ and so on. He finished up with American rag- 
time. We sent him in a bottle of whisky half-way 
through the performance, and the music got lighter thence- 
forward. It was most amusing to notice the effect. 
When we looked in later the whisky was standing on the 
table, and he was walking round it with his fiddle, play- 
ing hard and apparently serenading it ! 

" I was inoculated again on Friday evening because 
it is only really effective for about six months, and there 
is going to be a lot of enteric about, I expect. This 
apparently is just the very place for it flat low-lying 
country, poor water supply, and the soil heavily manured. 
So I have been feeling rather weak and feverish after it, 


but I am better again now. I have to have it done again 
ten days later but the second time is not so bad. 

" Talking about roses, Thomas picked a beauty this 
morning (before I got up) and brought it to me in bed. 
It is in front of me now, and is 5 inches across, and has 
a very fine smell." 

" Wednesday, 16 June 1915, 1.30 p.m. 

" We made an attack early this morning, and our 
Company waited here to receive the prisoners. Poor 
devils, I do feel so sorry for them. One officer of sixteen 
with six weeks' service. Old men with grey beards too, 
and many of the student type with spectacles not fit 
to have to fight. 

" You remember ' Very Pressing are the Germans' ; 
well, that's where I am, right inside the walls. Quite 
shell-proof, but very dank. 

" I have got the machine-gun job, and am going for a 
fortnight's course, starting on the 26th of June." 

" Monday, 21 June 1915, 4.30 p.m. 

" We have had an extremely trying time lately, and I 
am very sorry to say we have lost Thomas. 

" He was hit on the head by shrapnel on the night 
after the attack I expect you saw the account in the 
papers and died about an hour later, having never 
recovered consciousness. 

" It was a most fatal night the whole battalion was 
ordered out digging to consolidate the captured positions. 
We got half-way out, and then got stuck the road being 
blocked by parties of wounded. We waited on a path 
alongside a hedge for over an hour, and though we could 
not be seen we had a good deal of shrapnel sent over us. 
To make matters worse, they put some gas shells near, 
and we had to wear our helmets though the gas was not 
very strong. It was exceedingly unpleasant, and we 
could hardly see at all. It was while we were waiting 
like this that Thomas got knocked out. 

" We are all sorry to lose him, and I miss him very 
much, but it is nothing to the trouble there will be at his 
home, for he is his mother's favourite son. 

" I have written to his mother, but I have not told her 


what makes us feel so mad about it namely, that we did 
no digging that night at all. When we got to the position 
we were so late, and there was still such confusion there 
due to the attack, that we marched back again and just got 
in before daylight. We might just as well never have 
gone out. Isn't it fairly sickening ? 

" The next night we went out again, and we had a very 
quiet night and no casualties. The scene of the battle 
was pretty bad, and I put all my spare men on to burying. 

' Altogether we are very thankful to have a change 
from ' pioneering,' and get back to the trenches ! 

" Our chief trouble here is snipers. We are in a wood, 
and parties going for water and so on to our headquarters 
will walk outside the trench instead of in it, just be- 
cause the trench goes like this. [A diagram is omitted.] 
They take the straight course along the side in spite of 
repeated warnings. There is one point that a sniper has 
got marked. He gets our men coming back as they get 
into the trench just too late. We had a man hit this morn- 
ing, but not badly, and a few minutes ago I had to stop- this 
letter and go to a man of B Company who had got hit, and 
rather more seriously, at the same spot. I have put up a 
large notice there now, and hope it will prevent any more. 

" I am sorry this is not a very cheerful letter, but we 
have all been rather sad lately. I am getting over it 
now. Luckily one absorbs these things very gradually ; 
I could not realise it at first. It was an awful blow, 
because, especially since Fletcher went away (he is now 
at home), we had become very friendly, and one is apt to 
forget that there is always the chance of losing a friend 
suddenly. As a matter of fact, Thomas is the first officer 
of C Company that has been killed for seven months. 

" When we were up in this wood before, digging (about 
a fortnight ago) B Company lost Captain Salter. I dare 
say you saw his name in the Roll of Honour. We were 
just going to collect our spades and come in, when he was 
shot through the head by a stray bullet. 

" What a very melancholy strain I am writing in, I am 
so sorry. I am quite well and fit. We have mislaid our 
mess-box coming up here with all our specially selected 
foods. The result is we are on short commons great 
fun. I am eating awful messes and enjoying them. Fried 


bacon and fried cheese together ! Awful ; but, by Jove, 
when you're hungry." 


" 2nd S. Lancashire Regt. t B.E.F., Front, 
17 June 1915 

" DEAR MRS. THOMAS, I am very sorry to say I have 
to tell you the very worst of bad news. I know what 
Humphrey's loss must be to you, and I want to tell you 
how much it is to all of us too. I know I have not realised 
it yet myself properly. I have been in a kind of trance 
since last night and I dread to wake up. 

" He was a very fine friend to me, especially since 
Fletcher went away, and I miss him frightfully. Last 
night (i6th to I7th) the whole Battalion went out digging. 
There had been an attack by the English early the same 
morning, and the enemy's guns were still very busy even 
in the evening. Our road was blocked in front owing to 
the moving of a lot of wounded, and while we were held up 
on a little field path alongside a hedge we had several 
shrapnel shells over us. To add to the horrors of the 
situation they had put some gas shells over too, and we 
were obliged to put on our gas helmets. While Humphrey 
was standing with his helmet on in the rear of our Com- 
pany talking to the Captain of the Company behind, a 
shell came over and a piece of it ca ght him on the head. 
He was rendered unconscious, and it was evident from the 
first he had no chance of recovery. He was immediately 
taken a little way back to a place where there was no gas, 
and here the doctor dressed his wound. He was then 
taken back on a stretcher to the dressing-station. He 
died there about an hour after he had been admitted, 
having never recovered consciousness. 

" If he had to die, I am thankful he was spared pain 
beforehand. It made my heart ache this afternoon pack- 
ing his valise ; I have given his chocolate, cigarettes, and 
tobacco to the Mess, and I have wrapped up his diary and 
a few loose letters and made them into a small parcel 
which is in the middle of his valise. 

11 The papers and valuables which he had on him at the 


time will be sent back through our headquarters, the othei 
things, such as letters, etc., in his other pockets I have left 
just as they were. I hope the valise will arrive safely. 

" He will be buried very simply, and probably due east 
of Ypres about three-quarters of a mile out near the 
dressing-station. I will of course see he has a proper cross. 

" Humphrey was splendid always when shells were 
bursting near. He hated them as much as any of us, but 
he just made himself appear unconcerned in order to put 
heart into the troops. Three nights ago we were digging 
a trench and the Germans thought our attack was coming 
off that night. For nearly three-quarters of an hour they 
put every kind of shell over us and some came very close. 
We all lay down in the trench and waited. On looking up 
once I was amazed to see a lone figure walking calmly 
about as if nothing was going on at all. It may have been 
foolish but it was grand." 

" Tuesday, 22 June 1915, 4.45 p.m. 

" Well ! What a long war, isn't it ? Never mind, I 
believe it will finish up without much help from us, and our 
job is really killing time. And our time is so pleasant 
it doesn't need much killing out here. The days roll 
along nice sunny days too bringing us nearer I suppose 
to Peace. (One hardly dares even to write the word now, 
it has such a significance.) There have been cases where 
the war has driven people off their heads (this applies only, 
I think, to the winter campaign), but I often think if 
Peace comes suddenly that there will be many such cases. 

" It really is rather amazing the unanimity of every- 
body on this subject, and it must be the same behind the 
German front-line trenches. 

" I should think that never in this world before have 
there been so many men so ' fed up ' before. And then 
the women at home too it is wonderful where the driving 
force comes from to keep things going on. 

" But still I don't want to convey a false impression. 
If you took my last letter by itself you might think things 
were very terrible out here all the time. They are not. 
On the whole it is not a bad time at all. The life is full 
of interest, and the discomforts are few and far between. 


Bad times do come along occasionally, but they are by way 
of exceptions. It is most like a long picnic in all sorts of 
places with a sort of constraint and uneasiness in the air. 
This last is purely mental, and the less one worries about 
it the less it is, and so one can contrive to be light-hearted 
and happy through it all unless one starts to get de- 
pressed and moody. And it is just that which has hap- 
pened to Laws and Fletcher and one or two others. They 
had been out long and had seen unpleasant times and 
without an occasional rest ; none but the very thick can 
stand it." 

" Saturday, 26 June 1915, 6.40 p.m. 

" Here I am installed in the school [Machine Gun] 
which is, or was, a convent. Fine large place and grounds. 
Two officers per bedroom and a large Mess-room ; about 
twenty officers up for the course (or more) which starts 
to-morrow (Sunday). Your solution of the Thompson 
acrostic [St. Omer] was perfectly right, we are far back. 
This convent is about two miles from that town. 

" I am so pleased to be in the ' pleasant, sunny land of 
France,' amid absolute peacefulness. We had a curious 

K" Durney. Last night I slept at our transport (and had a 
ath !). I got up soon after six, mounted a horse just 
before eight (after breakfast). My servant and my valise, 
also a groom to bring my horse back, came in a limber. 
And that excellent man Polchet rode all the way to 
Divisional Headquarters with me, although it was about 
six miles out of his way. We got to Headquarters at a 
quarter to ten a motor-bus was to start at ten for here. 
It started at 10.30 with me, my luggage, and my servant 
(I don't know why he comes last) in it. The Harborne 
motor-buses in the Harborne High Street weren't in it. 
We got shaken to a jelly we were on top. We went back 
about two miles to pick up some of our Division, and 
having done so, we set oft to pick up some of the I4th 
Division, at a point carefully specified in our driver's 
instructions. This was about five miles away, in our 
proper direction. But when we got to the spot we dis- 
covered they (the Division) had left it a week ago and gone 
to a point quite close to where we had just picked up the 
3rd Division men. I telephoned in vain ; we had to go 
all the way back. We found the place with difficulty 


(we found all our places with difficulty as we had no maps), 
collected the men, and came all the way out again. Then 
we came straight here, which was about fifteen miles at 
least. We got here at 4.30 p.m. 1 Six hours 1 motor- 
bussing ! and the bus's maximum was 25 m.p.h. at least, 
I should judge. Luckily it was a glorious day, and I sat 
in front with the driver and enjoyed it all. ... 

" I told you leave was starting well, it has now 
started. Three of our officers have gone and all to- 
gether 1 They are only getting three clear days in Eng- 
land but still ! 

" I am going to find out when this course finishes I 
think it lasts for sixteen days and then I am going to 
apply for my leave to follow on. I wish oh, how 
I wish I may get it ; but of course many things may 

" If it does come off I hope there will be a representa- 
tive gathering to meet me at dinner. That is, I hope 
Violet will be back from Edinburgh, Lorna and Norah 
from Coniston, and perhaps Oliver and his Winifred \all 
pay a flying visit from Cardiff. Haven't I got an enlarged 
opinion of my own importance ? I suppose it is too much 
to expect the offices to have a whole holiday ! " 

" Monday, 28 June 1915, 6.15 p.m. 
" The enemy's lines round here do not appear to be 
strongly held, in fact quite the reverse that is, the 
front lines. But attacks on our part don't always pay 
even so. Their method, as I understand it, is simply to 
lose less men than we do. Accordingly, they leave very 
few men in their front trench, but what there are have a 
good supply of machine guns and are well supported by 
artillery. We precede our attacks by heavy shelling, and 
the few men get into well-built dug-outs until it is over, 
then they come out and get to work with their machine 
guns on the attacking infantry. The trench ultimately 
falls after rather heavy loss on our side (especially if the 
wire isn't properly cut) and the few defenders hold up their 
hands. Some are made prisoners some are not. If the 
enemy want the trench very badly they try and retake 
it by means of a strong counter-attack, trusting that our 
men and arrangements are in sufficient confusion to pre- 


vent adequate support. That is why our attacks are sc 
expensive and why we aren't constantly attacking. The 
alternative plan is, I think, simply to shell them heavily 
in all their lines and leave out the actual attack in 
most cases. . . . 

" I was so interested to hear that Alec had applied for 
me to come back. It is not at all impossible, because I 
have known two or three cases where officers have been 
recalled one was chief chemist (or so he said) at Brunner 
Mond's. He was returning as I came out, and tried to 
make one's flesh creep by his tales of war. But I don't 
think it is likely to happen in my case. I only wish it 
would. I should love to come home again, although I 
don't feel as if I had done my bit yet really. I haven't 
been in any big scrap, and I haven't killed my man 
even. . . . 

" I had a ripping time at the transport ; I hope they 
enjoyed the peas they deserved to. They were hospital- 
ity itself. They welcomed me, gave me three meals, lent 
me anything I wanted, made room for me to sleep in their 
large room (this necessitated the Quartermaster-Sergeant 
moving his bed into another room), gave me a warm bath, 
and generally made me feel quite at home. They have a 
ripping dug-out. Rooms half underground, 7 feet high, 
plenty of ventilation, boarded floor and walls, and a 
wooden roof supported on square wooden pillars and 
covered in earth well sodded on top. . . . 

" Talking about the Major (Major Cotton), he used to 
be our Adjutant at Crosby he was Captain then. He 
came out as second in command and has now got the 
Battalion while our Colonel (Colonel Dudgeon) is away 
sick. The latter got his C.B. in the last honours list. He 
is an excellent man. Lieut. Burlton, top, got a Military 
Cross. He has now been wounded twice ; he was the 
moving spirit of the hockey matches at Crosby in the 
old days, and, when he was recalled to the Front, his 
mantle fell upon me. . . . 

"All the officers here are from different regiments 
with a very few exceptions. It is most interesting. At 
meals, Way and I sit among the Cavalry, Dragoons and 
Lancers, etc. They are nne chaps the real Army 
officers of which there are now all too few." 


" Machine-Gun School, G.H.Q., 
Wednesday, 7 July 1915, 5 p.m. 

" Here I am getting towards the end of my little 
holiday, only five more days to go. No word has reached 
me from my Battalion on the subject of leave, or of any- 
thing else for that matter. . . . 

" If this threatened push on Calais is real, or if the 
higher commands have got ' wind up ' about it, they will 
very likely stop all leave, and then I shall just have to 
wait until it starts again. . . . 

" I am sure that the fact of our nation being ' down ' 
and preparing for a winter campaign will materially assist 
in shortening the war and rendering that preparation 

" We have an awfully amusing chap here who is in 
the Grenadier Guards. He is always imitating Harry 
Tate. A great big hefty chap, in great big sloppy clothes 
(including what are known as ' Prince of Wales ' breeches). 
He gets his mouth right over to the side of his face and 
says ' You stupid boy ! ' in Harry Tate's voice. He does 
this in the middle of our instructional squads when some 
wretched person does something wrong with the gun, and 
sends every one into fits of laughter. ... [A lot more 
about a motor that wouldn't go.j 

" My M.G. course is going on very nicely. I have 
learnt a very great deal, have been intensely interested, 
and am very keen on the work. My function as a reserve 
machine-gunner should really be to train the reserve team 
and such parts of the main team as are not actually re- 
quired in the trenches, in a safe spot behind the lines 1 
It sounds ' cushy/ but those in authority over us are not 
sufficiently enlightened, I am afraid, to adopt such a plan. 
The object of course is to prevent your reserve men from 
being ' used up ' as riflemen, as otherwise when you want 
them to take the place of the others they are casualties 
and all their training goes for nothing. 

The Cavalry officers here are a great joke. They find 
this life very tiring. They are quite keen to get back 
again and have been from the beginning. We, on the 
other hand, fairly enjoy it and are not at all anxious to 
go back to our regiments. That shows the difference 


between the lives we lead. Of course they have been in 
the trenches and have had some very bad times there, but 
they only go in in emergencies and at long intervals. . . . 

" Another difference between us is that they keep 
their buttons as bright as possible and themselves as 
spick and span as can be. The infantry officer gets his 
buttons as dull as possible, and if they are green so much 
the better, as it shows he has been through gas. He likes 
his clothes and especially his puttees to be rather torn, and 
his hat to be any old sloppy shape. If he gets a new hat 
he is almost ashamed to wear it he is terrified of being 
mistaken for ' Kitcheners ' 1 

" Lord Kitchener and Mr. Asquith came here last 
evening. Here, to this convent. I don't know what for ; 
but there was of course a good deal of stir here. 

" Way and I went into the town last night. We 
hired a. fiacre for the return journey. It came on to rain, 
so it was just as well we had a hood. We both thoroughly 
enjoyed the journey. The fiacre was what would be 
dignified by the name of ' Victoria ' in England. But in 
France, where it seems to be etiquette not to take any 
trouble over carriage-work, fiacre is the only word you 
could apply, and it just fits it. It expresses not only its 
shabbiness but also hints at its broken-backed appearance. 

" We went into some stables and inquired about a 
fiacre, and a fat boy in a blue apron with a white hand- 
kerchief tied over one eye said we could have one. So I 
said, ' Ou est le cocher ? ' and he pointed to his breast and 
said, " C'est moi ! ' 

" The fare, he said, would be six francs and the pour- 
boire. Thoughtful of him not to forget that. We agreed, 
and he eventually produced the usual French horse. 

" The fiacre was very comfortable and we were awfully 
tickled with the idea of us two in that absurd conveyance, 
especially when we passed staff officers, which was fre- 
quently. Altogether we were quite sorry when our drive 
was over." 


On 16 July 1915, Raymond came home on leave, and he had a 
great reception. On 20 July he went back. 


" Sunday, 25 July 1915, 7.30 p.m. 

" I have got quite a nice dug-out, with a chair and 
table in it. The table was away from the door and got 
no light, so I have spent about two hours to-day turning 
things round. I went to bed about three this morning 
(just after ' stand-to ') and slept till nearly twelve. Then 
I had breakfast (bacon and eggs). As my former platoon 
Sergeant remarked : ' It is a great thing to have a few 
comforts, it makes you forget there is a war.' 

" So it does until a whizz-bang comes over. 

" I have just seen an aeroplane brought down (German 
luckily). I missed the first part, where one of ours went 
up to it and a flame shot across between them (machine 
gun, I expect). I ran out just in time to see the machine 
descending on fire. It came down quite steadily inside 
our lines (about a mile or more away), but the flames were 
quite clearly visible." 

" Thursday, 29 July 1915, 7.35 p.m. 

" Here I am in the trenches again, quite like old times, 
and quite in the swing again after the unsettling effect of 
coming home ! You know I can't help laughing at things 
out here. The curious aspect of things sometimes comes 
and hits me, and I sit down and laugh (not insanely or 
hysterically, bien entendu ; but I just can't help chuckling). 
It is so absurd, the reasons and causes that have drawn 
me to this particular and unlikely field in Belgium, and, 
having arrived here, that make me set about at once 
house-hunting for all the world as if it was the most 
natural thing in life. And having selected my little house 
and arranged all my belongings in it, I regard it as home 
and spend a few days there. And then one morning my 
servant and I, we pack up everything once more and 
hoist them on to our backs and set off, staff in hand, like 
a pair of gipsies to another field a mile or so distant, and 
there make a new home. . . . 

" I was very loth to leave my front line dug-out, 
because I had arranged things to my liking had moved 
the table so that it caught the light, and so on. It had a 


built-in table (which took a lot of moving), a chair and a 
sandbag bed. Quite small and snug. 

" But still this new dug-out back here is quite nice. 
Large and roomy, with windows with bars in them (but 
no glass) a proper square table on four legs three 
chairs and a sandbag bed. So I am quite happy. The 
sandbag bed is apparently made as follows : Cover a 
portion of the floor, 6 feet 6 inches by 3 feet 6 inches, with 
a single layer of sandbags filled with earth. Over these 
place several layers of empty sandbags, and the bed is 
finished. If the hollows and lumps are carefully placed, 
the former in the middle and the latter at the head, the 
result is quite a success. Of course one sleeps in one's 
clothes covered by a coat and with an air pillow under 
one's head. 

" We have had a very gay time in the trenches. I 
think I told you how I saw a hostile aeroplane brought 
down on fire in our lines. That was on Sunday, and the 
official report says both pilots killed. On Monday I 
went down to a support trench to have meat tea and a 
chat with Holden and Ventris (two of C Company officers). 
At a quarter to ten there was a loud rumbling explosion 
and the dug-out we were in rocked for several seconds. 
The Germans had fired a mine about 60 feet in front of 
our trench to try to blow in some of our workings. 

" I rushed to my guns both were quite safe. You 
should have heard the noise. Every man in the place 
got up to the parapet and blazed away for all he was 
worth. It was exciting ! One machine gun fired two 
belts (500 rounds), and the other fifty rounds. I heard 
afterwards that several of the enemy were seen to leap 
their parapets, but turned back when they heard the 
machine guns open fire. It took a good while for things 
to quieten down. Some of our miners were at work 
when it went off, but their gallery was some way off and 
they were quite all right. 

" Last night they actually exploded another one ! 
Aren't they keen ? This was a much smaller affair, but 
closer to our trench. It shook down a portion of our 
parapet, which was easily rebuilt, and entombed tempo- 
rarily two of our miners. In neither case were there 
any casualties. ... 


" I am so sorry the date of the wedding had to be 
altered, but I agree it was for the best. I only hope you 
remembered to inform the bridegroom he is often for- 
gotten on these occasions, and I have known a lot of 
trouble caused by just this omission." 


" I August 1915, Sunday, 11.20 p.m. 

" I am not actually in the trenches at the moment, 
though most of the Battalion is. I was in for five days, 
and then I was relieved about four days ago by another 
officer (Roscoe), who shares with me the duties of machine- 
gun officer. So I am in a dug-out about three-quarters 
of a mile behind the firing line while he is taking his turn 
in that line. (A mine has just gone off and shaken the 
ground, followed by a burst of heavy rifle firing. This 
makes the fourth mine this week 1 Two went off while I 
was up there, and the whole earth rocked for several 
seconds. The first three mines were theirs, this last may 
be ours, I don't know ; we had one ready !) 

" We have been at Hill 60 and also up at Ypres. At 
present we are south of that appalling place, but I learn 
with regret that to-morrow we are moving again and are 
going up north of Ypres. We are all depressed in conse- 

" What an awfully good letter you have written me ; 
but, do you know, it makes me ache all over when you 
write like that about the car. You have only to mention 
you have got a Rover, and I am as keen as mustard to 
come and tinker with it 1 Aren't I young ? 

" But you must know I want to come to New Park 
in any case. I am awfully keen to stay there and see it 
from inside, and see its inmates again after many years 
(it feels like). So after the war (may it be soon 1) I am 
just going to arrive. I may let you know 1 

" Your remarks on weddings in general depress me 
very much I I hope the bridegroom's lot is better than 
the poor bride's. Because my turn is bound to come I 
I am so glad Hester gave a good account of my 


appearance. I am very fit, it is the only way to exist 
here. Once you begin to get ' down ' and to worry, it is 
all up with you. You go into a rapid decline, and eventu- 
ally arrive home a wreck 1 But as long as you smile and 
don't care a hang about anything, well the war seems to 
go on quite all right ! 

" I enjoyed my few days' leave very much indeed. I 
had five days in England and three full days and four 
nights at home. I dropped into my old life just as if 
no change had occurred. And the time was not long 
enough to make the getting back difficult. 

" This life is a change for me, as you say. I haven't 
done laughing at its humorous side yet. In some ways 
we get treated like schoolboys. More so at Crosby than 
here, however." 

" Saturday, 7 August 1915, 7.30 p.m. 

" I have been having rather a bad time lately, 
one of those times that reminds one that it is war 
and not a picnic, but, thank goodness, it is all over 

" I think I told you that we were about to move up 
north of Ypres, to St. Julien or thereabouts. Well, just 
before we handed over these trenches to one of Kitchener's 
Battalions, the Germans went and knocked down a lot 
of our parapet, and also sent over some appalling things 
that we call ' sausages/ or ' aerial torpedoes/ though they 
are not the latter. They are great shell-shaped affairs, 
about 3 feet along and 9 inches in diameter, I should 
think. They are visible during the whole of their flight. 
They are thrown up about 100 yards into the air 
and fall down as they go up, broadside on not point 
first. A few seconds after they fall there is the most 
appalling explosion I have ever heard. From a distance 
of 100 yards the rush of air is so strong that it feels 
as if the thing had gone off close at hand. Luckily there 
is a slight explosion when they are sent up, and, as I said, 
they are visible all the time in the air. The result is 
our men have time to dodge them, provided they are not 
mesmerised as one man was. He got stuck with his 
mouth open, pointing at one 1 A Corporal gave him a 
push which sent him 10 yards, and the ' sausage ' landed 


not far from where he had been. Although they have 
sent more than twenty of these things over altogether, 
we have only had one casualty, and that a scratch. Their 
effect is to terrify every one and keep them on tenterhooks 
watching for them. Their purpose is to destroy mine 
galleries, I believe. . . . 

" Monday, August the 2nd, was the day we should 
have been relieved, and that night I went up from head- 
quarters and relieved Roscoe, who had had a bad time 
in the fire trenches. . . . 

" They were firing armour-piercing shells that go right 
in and blow the parapet to blazes ; dug-outs too, of 
course, if they happen to be near. After punishing the 
right end of the left-hand bit of trench, they traversed 
along, laying waste the whole of our bit. 

" I was in my dug-out with Hogg, another officer. 
I was trying to make tea, but every shell blew out the 
Primus, and covered us in dust. I made it, however, 
eventually, and we had just drunk it when a shell blew 
the parados of the trench down, not far from our door, 
and the next wrecked the dug-out next door to mine (a 
man who happened to be inside having a miraculous 
escape). We judged it was time to clear (the machine 
guns had already been withdrawn to safety), and got 
away as best we could through and over the debris that 
had been a trench. 

" Later in the day I made my way back, and re- 
covered my pack and most of my belongings. It was 
exciting work getting back, because they were sending 
whizz-bangs through the gaps in the parapet, and the com- 
munication trenches in the rear were blocked in places, so 
that you had to get up on top and ' scoot ' across and drop 
in the trench again. 

" That evening they gave us a second shelling, and one 
hit my dug-out fair and square (I had quarters in a sup- 
port trench). When I returned next day for the rest of 
my things my equipment and some provisions I had 
to put two men on to dig them out. It took three-quarters 
of an hour to get at them, through the wreckage of timber, 
corrugated iron, and earth. . . . 

" On Tuesday afternoon they sent off another mine, 
about the seventh since we have been in, but they are 


all well in front of our parapet. And on Wednesday they 
gave us twelve sausages the first I had seen. 

" The trouble is, we have a number of mineshafts under 
the ground between our trenches and theirs, and they are 
fearfully ' windy ' about them. They keep trying to stop 
us mining them, and their shelling is with the object of 
blowing down our sap-heads. Their mines, too, go up 
short, because they are trying to blow in our galleries ; or 
else they are so scared they send them off before they are 
ready. I think the last explanation is probably more 
near the truth, because when one of their mines went up 
recently a lot of Germans went up with it ! ... 

" We have been in here a fortnight to-night. You 
can imagine how we long for clean clothes. Most of the 
officers have not been out of their clothes all that time, 
but I have been very lucky. I had two good cold baths 
when I was down here before, and to-day I had a lovely 
hot one in a full-length wooden bath. A tremendous 
luxury ! Also I had some clean socks to put on. ... 

" On the day I was shelled out of my dug-out my 
servant, Bailey, was hit on the leg by a piece of shell and 
has gone down the line wounded, not very seriously, I 
think. He is a great loss to me, but I have got another 
one now, Gray, who shapes very well. He is young and 
willing, and quite intelligent. 

" You ask whether that time when the mine went off 
was the first time I had used these guns. Yes, abso- 
lutely. The plan adopted in trench warfare is to place 
your guns in position with a good wide loophole in front of 
them, then block this up and keep a sharp look-out. When 
the enemy attacks, you blaze away at them, and then shift 
hurriedly to another gun-position and watch the old one 
being shelled to blazes. 

" If you fire on other occasions you are rather apt to 
have your guns knocked out, and we can't afford to lose 
any. That is why I was rather horrified to find one gun 
had fired 500 rounds the other night. However, it was 
not discovered. I think the long grass in front hid the 
flashes. . . . 

" Yes, the sandbags might be damp when used for a 
bed, and I always lay my waterproof ground-sheet on top 
of them. I either sleep on that or on some new clean bags 


laid above that again. It is not only dampness, though, 
that one fears ! 

" As a matter of fact, one is not very sensitive to damp 
when living so much out of doors. It is common to get 
one's feet slightly wet and go for about four days without 
removing one's boots most unpleasant, but not in the 
least damaging to health." 

" Monday, 16 August 1915, Noon 

" We are now out and resting after doing a long spell. 
I did nineteen days, and some did a few more days than 
that. Three weeks is a long time to live continuously in 
clothes, boots, and puttees. . . . 

" I came out of the trenches on Thursday night, and 
was really a day too soon, because on Friday we were 
having Orderly-Room right in the country, in front of the 
C.O.'s tent ; the Colonel was there surrounded by most of 
the officers, when we heard a shell. Well, that's nothing 
unusual, but this one got crescendo, and we all looked up 
in alarm. Then it got very crescendo, and finally cleared 
us and landed with a loud explosion about 50 yards 
beyond us, and not far from several groups of men. It 
was an 8-inch ' crump.' One man only was killed, but we 
knew that more were likely to come over, and so we gradu- 
ally spread out to the sides. Four came altogether at 
two-minute intervals, but we only had two casualties. 
Rather upsetting when we were supposed to be resting. 
I don't know whether they could see our (officers') white 
tents, or whether they saw the cricket match that took 
place on the day before. 

" Anyway we moved our tents slightly every one put 
their tents where they pleased, and then the Pioneer 
Sergeant came and amused himself daubing green paint 
on them in patches. Ours (three of C Coy.) was the 
best ; the splodges looked just like hazel nuts (?) when 
there are three together in their little green cases, and 
they were interspersed with a kind of pansy-shaped flower. 
Altogether a very tasteful and pleasing effect. . . . 

" A couple of gun stocks have come. They arrived 
from Walker's, the makers, and I shoijld very much like 
to know who had them sent. They are ripping, sniping 
attachments with periscopes for use with the ordinary 


rifle. I shall stick to one, and unless I hear otherwise I 
shall present the other one to our sniping officer (honorary 
rank)." l 

" Wednesday, 25 August 1915, 3 p.m. 

" I am in the trenches once more. We marched in 
(about 10 miles) last night. We had a meal at 3 p.m., 
and marched off soon after six. Our rations (officers ) 
went astray, because they were on a hand-cart in charge 
of our servants, who missed their way, so we have had 
practically nothing to eat since late lunch yesterday, and 
are pretty hungry. I have had a piece of chocolate, and 
my water-bottle was nearly full of lemon squash. . . . 

" We are in support trenches at Hooge, just on the left 
of our former position up here. Except for some shelling 
(chiefly ours), things are fairly quiet. 

" Since we were here last the position is greatly im- 
proved ; the Germans have been driven over the ridge in 
front (during the recapture of trenches here), and the whole 
place is much ' healthier ' in consequence. . . . 

" I have been out here five calendar months to-day, 
and in the Army just over eleven months. They will be 
pensioning me off soon as an old soldier." 

" 29 August 1915, 11.30 a.m. 

" I am having a very quiet and lazy time at the 
moment, and feel I deserve it. We went into support 
trenches for three days, and worked two nights from 
7.30 p.m. till 3 a.m. building and improving the fire 
trench. Then on the third night we had a most exciting 
time. One company, under Captain Taylor, was sent up 
right in front to dig a new fire trench to connect with 
another on our left. We had to go up a trench which ran 
right out into space, and which had only just been built 
itself, and when there we had to get over the parapet and 
creep forward to the new line we were to dig. Or course 
we had to be dead quiet, but there was a big moon, and of 
course they saw us. Most of the way we were not more 
than 30 yards away from their front position (and they 
had bombing parties out in front of that). While we were 

1 Thos. Walker & Son, of Oxford Street, Birmingham, had kindly 
given me two periscope rifle-stock attachments with excellent mirrors, 
80 as to allow accurate sighting. O. J. L. 


digging we had one platoon with bombs to cover us, and 
some of this party were as close as 25 yards to their front 
position. It was awful work, because they kept throwing 
bombs at us, and what was almost worse was the close- 
range sniping. 

" ' Very ' lights were going up from the German lines 
all the time, and you could see the bullets kicking up the 
dust all around. When we first got out there I picked 
out my ground pretty carefully before lying down (be- 
cause the recent scrap there was much in evidence), but 
when the snipers got busy I didn't worry about what I 
was on, I just hugged the ground as close as I could. They 
would put the ' Very ' lights right into us, and one just 
missed me by a yard. If they are not spent when they 
come down, they blaze fiercely on the ground, and when 
they finish, they look like a little coke fire. They would 
burn you badly if they fell on you. I have seen a dead 
man that one had fallen on afterwards. His clothes were 
fearfully burned. 

" The Germans were on the edge of a wood and our 
ground was tipped towards them, so it was extremely 
difficult to get cover. Shell holes were the best. Soon 
the men got their trenches down, and things were a little 
better. The men worked extremely well, and the Wilts 
were working on our left, and we eventually joined up 
with them. After about five hours' work, the trenches 
were fit to hold, and we filed out and the new garrison 
filed in. Our casualties were much lighter than I should 
have thought possible. The Colonel came along the new 
trenches just before we left, and he was most awfully 
pleased with C Company, and so is the General, Captain 
Taylor is very bucked about it. 

" The scene of this affair was right against the Chateau 
of Hooge, and close to the mine crater. We found a 
German machine gun half buried, but in good condition, 
and any number of souvenirs. The Captain has got a 
helmet a dirty thing ; he had to have it cleaned put, 
because part of the owner was still inside it ! It is a 
rummy shape, so flat-topped and square, with a brass 
spike and a gold band down the back. I expect it was an 

" Oh I I have seen my first German (not counting 


prisoners). I was standing up and a ' Very ' light went 
up, so I kept perfectly still. I was looking towards the 
wood where the Germans were (I was 40 or 50 yards away), 
and I saw one quite distinctly walking into the wood. 

" Our men that were killed (sniped) were buried just 
behind, within a quarter of an hour of being hit. Rather 

" The actual digging was rather trying in places, and in 
one case they actually came on a horse ! which dates it 
back to November, when we were pushed back to these 
positions in the first battle of Ypres. 

" The men in such places work with their respirators 
on and are often actually sick. I have had whiffs of the 
smell since in my food. Once smelt never forgotten. I 
can tell the difference between a man and a horse, but I 
don't know which I like least. 

" Rather a morbid topic, I am afraid. Well, after 
leaving the scene of our labours (and glad to get out), we 
called for our packs and had to march about two and a 
half miles. We were dead beat when we arrived here 
(nice safe dug-outs roomy and comfortable with our 
valises ready to sleep in when we arrived), but we found a 
good meal awaiting us, and about half-past four we ' got 
down to it ' and slept till noon. Hoi den and I share a 
palatial dug-out, and we had breakfast in bed, and I did 
not get up till just before our evening meal at 7. I washed 
and dressed in slacks had a meal, and later on went to 
bed again. This morning we had breakfast in bed again 
about 9.30, and then I got up, washed and shaved, dressed, 
and am now sitting on my bed, leaning against the wall 
writing my letters. 

" The General let us off ' stand-to ' because he knew 
we were fagged out ; and it is a great mercy. Turning out 
fully dressed at about 2.30 a.m. and remaining up for an 
hour does not improve one's night's rest. I suppose, 
though, that we shall have to start it soon perhaps 

" We are here till to-morrow night, I believe, and then 
we go to some fairly nice trenches near the ones we were 
in last. We are short of subalterns rather and they 
have taken me off machine guns for the time being. I am 
sick, but I get a bit in when I can. In the last trench we 


built (I and my platoon), not the exposed one, there was 
a machine-gun position, and I took great pleasure in build- 
ing it a really good emplacement. . . * 

" Are you doing anything about getting me back for 
Munitions ? I don't know what you think about it, and 
whether you think I ought to carry on out here. I am 
sure that after six months I shall be just about fed-up 
with this business, but am not sure that after a couple of 
months at home I shan't be wanting to come out again." 

" Wednesday, I September 1915, 4.45 p.m. 

" I will just write you a short letter to let you know 
I am still well and happy, and still leading the strange 
life of the picnic-hermit. 

" When I last wrote to you I believe I was in the 
very same spot as now, namely, support trenches in the 
neighbourhood of a now famous chateau. Last time we 
were in for three days, and on the night we left we had 
a very blood-curdling experience digging a trench which 
was to bring us closer to our friends the enemy. But 
they were inclined to resent our advances, and they 
welcomed us, not with open arms, but with lighted bombs. 
However, having completed our work to the great satis- 
faction of those in authority over us (namely, the Colonel 
and the General [Brigadier]), we made good our escape. 

" Then for three blissful days we lived (with our 
valises) in some magnificent dug-outs in one of the safest 
spots in this accursed though much improved neighbour- 
hood. These days we spent competing who could sleep 
furthest round the clock (if that is a permissible expres- 
sion). I think I won, and on my record day I got up 
and dressed for dinner at about 7.30 p.m., made my bed 
afterwards, and got back into it again. This halcyon 
period was only interrupted once, when we all had to go 
out and dig a trench one night long. However, the 
worst feature of this expedition was the rain, which made 
' going ' very difficult, and things in general rather uncom- 
fortable (especially for the men), so we hadn't much to 
grumble about. 

" Then we came back here and the first night we slept 
in peace, getting up at about 3 a.m. ostensibly for the 
purpose of * stand-to/ but really to brew ourselves some 


cocoa. Then sleep till 9, 10, or n, I forget which. I 
crawl to the door of my dug-out and shout for Gray, 
who lives just opposite. ' Breakfast ! ' I say, and he 
invariably asks, ' What will you have, sir? ' just as if he 
could command the larders of the Carlton or the Linga. 

" Knowing my rations, and that an attempt at 
humour would only put me off my plat du jour or daily 
round, I usually think for a few moments and then order 
eggs and bacon, and face the common task. The only 
variation I permit myself is that on one or two days in 
the week I funk the bacon and have boiled eggs. Where 
do the eggs come from ? They are purchased out of 
the Mess fund by our Mess cook who lives with the 
Transport when we are in the trenches, and brings them 
up personally when the rations arrive at night. Yes, 
he has a ' cushy ' time of it, does our Mess cook ; and 
how can he avoid being happy, living as he does in a 
perpetual transport ? 

" What of the days when no eggs are available ? 
Why, then, horribile dictu, I have fried cheese and 
bacon ! 

" It occurs to me here, although all this was not 
written with intention, that this could be a good place 
to ask whether sausages are yet in season. If they are, 
a few cooked ones (or half cooked) sent out now and 
again would make a splendid variant for our menu. 

" The meat season is hard to follow out here. Bully 
beef is such a hardy perennial. (This does not mean 
that we live on it I never eat it, there is always a good 
supply of fresh beef.) 

" Blackberries are coming on, I notice with pleasure, 
and I can usually tell what shells are in season (the 
season for sausages in this department is, let us hope, 
mercifully short. I believe we are now in the middle of 
the close-time for this sturdy little fellow, I trust he is 
not utilising it to increase and multiply). 

" I am sorry I have had rather a sharp attack of 
parentheses lately, the touch of winter in the air cramps 
my style. And I really did think this was going to be 
quite a short letter. I cannot divine my moods, I find, 
I did not feel like writing until I got going. 

" Please thank father very much indeed for the 


sniperscopes. I have given one to the Captain of D 
Company, who is keen on everything. He is an engineer 
(civil), and is a most useful man out here. I have not 
tried mine yet, as I haven't been in a fire trench, and it 
would hardly be fair to use it in a support trench, the 
backs of our infantry in the trench in front being too 
easy a target to give the thing a fair trial. 

" Oh ! I was telling you about my work in this trench 
but got switched off on to food. Last time I was here 
I (and my platoon) worked for two nights from 7.30 till 
3 improving the parapets. Well, the second night of 
Ms period (last night) I had got all sorts of plans ready 
and was going to have a thoroughly good night building 
dug-outs, draining the trench, and building a second 
machine-gun emplacement (not my job really at the 
moment). However, word came along that the platoon 
was wanted to dig another trench right in front again 
and near the other one. They said, ' A covering party 
with bombs will be provided, and send in your casualty 
report in the morning ! ' So I asked if they were supply- 
ing stretchers and all complete ! But they were not. 
It is a most cheering way of sending you off, is it not ? 
It is a wonder they did not make us take up our own 
grave crosses, just in case. 

" (By the way, it is most impressive to meet two men 
walking along at night and one carrying a large white 
cross. The burying and decking of the graves is done 
very well here, and conscientiously. There is a special 
organisation for making the crosses, lettering them and 
putting them up. The position of the grave is reported 
to them, with the particulars, and they do the rest.) 

" The great difference in last night's job was that I 
only had a platoon to deal with, while before the Captain 
had a whole company. Also I was not quite so close to 
the enemy (we were 30 yards off, and less, before), and the 
moon was mostly obscured. I determined not to let 
them know we were working, so I crept out and explored 
the ground with the Corporal of the covering party (this 
was the worst part of the job, because you did not know 
when you might not come across a party of the enemy 
in the many shell holes and old trenches with which the 
ground was covered). I had my large revolver in my 


pocket, but I did not want to use it, as it would have 
given our game away. 

" All went well, and I got the men placed out in 
absolute silence, with the covering party pushed out in 
front to listen and watch. The men worked very quietly, 
and when a light went up they got down and kept still. 
Lights were very few, because the enemy had got a 
working party out too at one side, and we could occa- 
sionally hear them driving in stakes for wire. 

" We had to use picks in some places where the 
ground was stony, and these are the hardest to keep 
quiet. We got through it all right, and only one shot, I 
think, was fired all the time. It came fairly close too. I 
am sure they guessed we were out, because when one 
light went up I hadn't time to get down, so I kept still 
and I plainly saw a Hun standing upright on his own 
parapet. He straightened up as the light grew bright, 
and I just caught sight of the movement and saw him 
then distinctly. 

" The ground out there has been fought over a good 
deal, and there are plenty of souvenirs about. I have 
got one myself a Hun rifle. The original owner, who 
was buried with it probably by a shell happened to 
lie exactly where we dug our trench, and we were obliged 
to move him elsewhere. I brought his rifle home and 
put it over the door of my dug-out. That was early this 
morning. But the enemy have been putting shrapnel 
over us (in reply to a good ' strafing ' by our guns), and 
one piece has gone clean through the stock. 

" Our artillery are going great guns nowadays. It 
certainly feels as if the shell supply was all right or 
nearly so. 

" I don't know whether we shall be wanted for any 
job to-night, or whether we shall rest, or whether I can 
get on with my projects. I must go round and see 
Captain T. in the other trench. By the way, he came 
to see how I was getting on last night about midnight, 
and was very pleased with the work and with the fact 
that we were having no casualties. 

" That cake was fine, and much appreciated in the 
Mess. The little knife you gave me when home on leave 
is proving most useful. 


" Please thank Lionel for chocolate received and Alec 
for gourdoulis. 

I have sent another box of Surplus Kit home 
addressed to Nogl. Rather late to do it, I know, and I 
shall want one or two of the things sent back later, but 
not for a long time, and it is a relief to get rid of some 
of my impedimenta. The socks returned want mending. 
That reminds me, thank you and please thank Miss 
Leith very much for the socks. They are quite all right 
for size. Perhaps not so long and narrow in the foot 
might be better, but it doesn't seem to affect the wear ; 
they are most comfortable. 

" I am still attached to the Company and not to the 
machine guns much to my annoyance." 

" Monday, 6 September 1915, 9.30 p.m. 

" Thank you so much for your inspiring and encour- 
aging letter. I hope I am being useful out here. I some- 
times doubt if I am very much use not as much as I 
should like to be. Possibly I help to keep C Company 
officers more cheerful 1 I am very sorry they have taken 
me off machine guns for the present, I hope it may not 
be long. 

" Great happenings are expected here shortly and we 
are going to have a share. We are resting at present and 
have been out a few days now. We had only two periods 
of three days each in the trenches last time in. ... 

" Our last two days in the trenches were appal- 
lingly wet. My conduct would have given me double 
pneumonia at home. My rain-coat was soaked, so I had 
to sleep in shirt sleeves under my tunic, and the knees of 
my breeches were wet. 

" The next day the rain was incessant, and presently 
I found the floor of my dug-out was swimming the water 
having welled up through the ground below and the 

" I didn't have to sleep on it luckily, because we were 
relieved that night. But before we went I had to turn 
out with fifty men and^work till midnight in water up to 
one foot deep. So at 8.30 p.m. I got my boots full of cold 
water and sat out in them till 12, then marched some 
eight miles. After nine hours' rest and some breakfast 


we came here, another three or four. It was nice to get 
a dry pair of boots and our valises and a tent. 

That night I rode into Poperinghe with Captain 
Taylor, and we had a really good dinner there great 

" We have a full set of parades here unfortunately, 
otherwise things are all right. . . . 

" Alec has very kindly had a ' Molesworth ' sent me. 
Most useful. 

" I would like a motor paper now and then, I think ! 
The Motor for preference or The Autocar. Aren't I 
young ? 

" Captain Taylor has sprained his ankle by falling 
from his horse one night, and has gone to a rest home 
near. So I am commanding C Company at the moment. 
Hope not for long. Too responsible at the present time 
of crisis. 

" 9 September, 3.30 p.m. 

" Must just finish this off for post. 

" We have just had an inspection by the Army Corps 
Commander, Lieut. -General Plumer [Sir Herbert]. 

" I am still in command of C Company, and had to call 
them to attention and go round with the General, followed 
by a whole string of minor generals, colonels, etc. He 
asked me a good many questions : 

" First. How long had I had the Company ? Then, 
how long had I been out ? I said since March. He then 
asked if I had been sick or wounded even, and I said no ! 

" Then he said, ' Good lad for sticking it ! ' at least I 
thought he was going to. 

" We are kept very busy nowadays. I must try and 
write a proper letter soon. I do apologise. 

" A box of cigarettes has arrived from, I suppose, 
Alec. Virginias, I mean, and heaps of them. 

" We have just got another tent we have been so 
short and have been sleeping five in. Now we shall be 
two in each. The new one is a lovely dove-grey like 
a thundercloud. After the war I shall buy one. 

" I shall be quite insufferable, I know ; I shall want 
everything done for me on the word of command. Never 
mind roll on the end of the war 1 

" Cheer-ho, lovely weather, great spirits ! Aero- 


plane [English] came down in our field yesterday slightly 
on fire. All right though. Good-bye, much love, 


" Sunday, 12 September 1915, 2 p.m. 

" You will understand that I still have the Company 
to look after, and we are going into the front-line trenches 
this evening at 5 p.m. for an ordinary tour of duty. We 
are going up in motor buses ! . . . 

" Capt. T. thinks he will be away a month ! " 


" 17 September 1915 

" Deeply regret to inform you that Second Lieut. 
R. Lodge, Second South Lanes, was wounded i4th Sept. 
and has since died. Lord Kitchener expresses his sym- 


21 September 1915 

" The King and Queen deeply regret the loss you and 
the army have sustained by the death of your son in the 
service of his country. Their Majesties truly sympathise 
with you in your sorrow." 


SOME letters from other officers gradually arrived, 
giving a few particulars. But it was an excep- 
tionally strenuous period at the Ypres salient, and 
there was little time for writing. Moreover, some of his 
friends were killed either at the same time or soon 

The fullest account that has reached us is in the 
following letter, which arrived eight months later : 


" yth Brigade Machine-Gun Company, 
B.E.F., 16 May 1916 

" DEAR SIR OLIVER LODGE, When I was lately on 
leave, a brother of mine, who had met one of your re- 
latives, encouraged me to write and tell you what I knew 
of your son Raymond. I was in the South Lancashire 
Regiment when he joined the Battalion out here last 
spring, and I think spent the first spell he had in the 
trenches in his company. 

" Afterwards I became Machine Gunner, and in the 
summer he became my assistant, and working in shifts 
we tided over some very trying times indeed. In parti- 
cular during August at St. Eloi. To me at any rate it 
was most pleasant being associated together, and I think 
he very much preferred work with the gunners to Com- 
pany work. Being of a mechanical turn of mind, he was 
always devising some new ' gadget ' for use with the gun 
for instance, a mounting for firing at aeroplanes, and 
a device for automatic traversing ; and those of my men 



who knew him still quote him as their authority when 
laying down the law and arguing about machine gunning. 

" I wish we had more like him, and the endless possi- 
bilities of the Maxim would be more quickly brought to 

" I am always glad to think that it was not in any 
way under my responsibility that he was killed. 

" During September times grew worse and worse up 
in the Ypres salient, culminating in the attack we made 
on the 25th, auxiliary to the Loos battle. The trenches 
were ruins, there was endless work building them up at 
night, generally to be wrecked again the next day. The 
place was the target for every gun for miles on either side 
of the salient. 

" Every day our guns gave the enemy a severe bom- 
bardment, in preparation for the attack, and every third 
or fourth day we took it back from them with interest : 
the place was at all times a shell trap. 

" It was during this time that your son was killed. He 
was doing duty again with the Company, which was 
shorthanded, and I remember one night in particular 
being struck with his cheerfulness on turning out to a 
particularly unpleasant bit of trench digging in front of 
our lines near the Stables at Hooge, a mass of ruins and 
broken trenches where no one could tell you where you 
might run across the enemy ; but the men had to dig" for 
hours on end, with only a small covering party looking 
out a few yards in front of them. 

" The morning your son was killed they were bom- 
barding our trenches on the top of the hill, and some of 
the men were being withdrawn from a bad piece. He and 
Ventris were moving down the trench in rear of the party 
which I think must have been seen for a shell came 
and hit them both, but I think none of the men in front. 

" Some time later, I don't know how long, I was going 
up to the line to visit the guns, when I saw Ventris, who 
was killed, laid out ready to be carried down, and pre- 
sently I saw your son in a dug-out, with a man watching 
him. He was then quite unconscious though still breath- 
ing with difficulty. I could see it was all over with him. 
He was still just alive when I went away. 

" Our regiment was to lose many more on that same 


hill before the month was over, and those of us that re- 
main are glad to be far away from it now ; but I always 
feel that anyone who has died on Hooge Hill has at all 
events died in very fine company. Yours sincerely, 

Lieut. 2nd S. Lanes. Regt., attached 
jth Brigade, M.G. Company " 


" 21 September 1915 

" Raymond was the best pal I've ever had, and we've 
always been together ; in the old days at Brook Road, 
then in Edinburgh, and lastly in France, and nobody 
could ever have a better friend than he was to me. 

"I'll never forget the first day he came to us at 
Dickebusch, and how pleased we all were to see him again ; 
and through it all he was always the same, ever ready to 
help anyone in any way he could, whilst his men were 
awfully fond of him and would have done anything for 

" 24 September 1915 

" I hear that we were digging trenches in advance of 
our present ones at St. Eloi last week, so it must have 
been then that he was hit, as he was awfully keen on dig- 
ging new trenches, and heaps of times I've had to tell him 
to keep down when he was watching the men working. . . . 

" I always thought he would come through all right, 
and I know he thought so himself, as, the last time I saw 
him, we made great plans for spending some time together 
when we got back, and it seems so difficult to realise that 
he has gone. (Signed) ERIC S. FLETCHER " 


" Thursday, 23 September 1915 

" Yes, I knew Raymond Lodge very well, and he was 
indeed a friend of mine, being one of the nicest fellows it 
has ever been my privilege to meet. I was with him 
when he died. This was how it happened to the best of 
my knowledge. 


" * A ' Company (the one I am in) and ' C ' Company 
were in the trenches at the time. The gunners had sent 
up word that there was going to be a bombardment, and 
so they recommended us to evacuate the front-line 
trenches, in case the Hun retaliated, and it was whilst 
C Company were proceeding down the communication 
trench, till the bombardment was over, that the shell 
came which killed your brother. He was in command of 
C Company at the time, and was going down at the 
rear of his men, having seen them all safely out of the 
trenches. His servant, Gray, was hit first, in the head 
(from which he af terwards died) . Then Lodge went along 
to tell the Sergeant-Major, and to see about assistance, 
farther down the trench. Whilst talking to the Company 
Sergeant-Major he was hit in the left side of the back, by a 
piece of shell, I think. Lower down the trench poor Ventris 
was hit and killed. As soon as I heard about it I went 
along to see if I could be of any use. I saw Lodge lying 
in a dug-out, with a servant looking after him. I saw he 
was badly hit, and tried to cheer him up. He recognised 
me and was just able to ask a few questions. That must 
have been about twenty minutes or so after he was hit. 
I think he lived about half an hour, and I don't think he 
suffered much pain, thank God. 

" I was very, very grieved at his death, for he was one 
of the very nicest fellows I have met. That he was uni- 
versally liked, both by officers and men, it is needless to 
say. . . . 

" I was for nearly three months in C Company with 
your brother, and was thus able to see his extreme coolness 
and ability in military matters. 

"(Signed) G. R. A. CASE" 


" Friday, 24 September 1915 

" Need I say how grieved we all were at his loss ? He 
was hit about midday, and died about half an hour or so 
afterwards. I forget the date, but I have written more 
fully to his brother. I don't think he suffered much pain. 
He was conscious when I arrived, and recognised me, I 


think, and I remained with him for some time. I then 
went off to see if there was any possibility of finding the 
doctor, but all the telephone wires were cut, and even if 
we had been able to get the doctor up, it would have 
been of no avail. The stretcher-bearers did all that was 
possible. . . . Another subaltern, Mr. Ventris, was killed 
at the same time, as was his servant Gray as well. ' 
"(Signed) G. R. A. CASE"* 


" 27 September 1915 

" First of all I beg to offer you and your family my 
sincere sympathies in the loss of your son, 2nd Lieut. 
Lodge. His loss to us is very great : he was a charming 
young fellow always so very cheerful and willing, hard 
working, and a bright example of what a good soldier 
ought to be. He was a most efficient officer, and only 
recently qualified in the handling and command of Maxim 
guns a most useful accomplishment in the present war. 
Briefly, the circumstances which led to his death were as 
follows : 

" On 14 September, C Company to which 2nd Lieut. 
Lodge belonged, was in position in a forward fire trench. 
During the morning the commander of the artillery 
covering the position informed 2nd Lieut. Lodge, who at 
the time was in command of C Company, that it was in- 
tended to shell the enemy's positions, and as his trenches 
were only a short distance from ours, it was considered 
advisable to withdraw from our trench during the shelling. 
2nd Lieut. Lodge gave orders for his Company to with- 
draw into a communication trench in the rear. He and 
2nd Lieut. Ventris were the last to leave the forward 
trench, and in entering the communication trench both 
these officers were caught by enemy's shrapnel. Ventris 
was killed Lodge mortally wounded and died of his 
wounds shortly afterwards. These are the circumstances 
of his death." 

1 Lieutenant Case himself, alasl was killed on the 25th of September 
1915* It was a fatal time. Lieutenant Fletcher also has been killed 
now, on 3rd July 1916. 



" 22 September 1915 

" The Colonel has asked me to write you, giving some 
idea of the burial-ground in which your son's grave is. I 
understand that he was leading his Company back from 
one of the communication trenches when the Germans 
shelled the front and rear of the column, killing your son 
and the officer who was at the rear. At the same time 
one man was killed and two wounded. I knew nothing 
about this until later in the day, as communication with 
my aid post was very difficult, and he was reported to 
me as having been killed. I understand that he lived 
for about three hours after being wounded, and all the 
officers and men who were present speak very highly of 
his conduct during this time. His wound was unfortu- 
nately in such a position that there was no chance of 
saving his life, and this was recognised by all, including 
your son himself. When his body was brought down in 
the evening the expression on his face was absolutely 
peaceful, and I should think that he probably did not 
suffer a great deal of pain. He was buried on the same 
evening in our cemetery just outside the aid post, side by 
side with Lieut. Ventris, who was unfortunately killed 
on the same day. The cemetery is in the garden adjoin- 
ing a ruined farm-house. It is well enclosed by hedges, 
and your son's grave is under some tall trees that stand 
in the garden. There are graves there of men of many 
regiments who have fallen, and our graves are enclosed by 
a wire fence, so keeping them quite distinct from the others. 
There is a wooden cross marking the head of the grave, 
and a small one at the foot. I am afraid that our con- 
dolences will be small consolation to you, but I can assure 
you that he was one of the most popular officers with the 
Battalion, both amongst the officers and men, and all feel 
his loss very greatly." 

Information sent by Captain Cheves to Mrs. Ventris, 
mother of the Second Lieutenant who was killed at the 
same time as Raymond and buried with him : 

" He was buried on the right of the Menin Road, just 


past where the Zonebeke Rail cuts. If you can get hold 
of Sheet 28, Belgium 1/40,000, the reference is I. 16. b 2. 
Any soldier will show you how to read the map. 


[I also append a letter received from a workman who 
used to be at the same bench with Raymond when he was 
going through his workshop course at Wolseley Motor 
Works. Stallard is a man he thought highly of, and be- 
friended. He is now foreman in the Lodge Fume Deposit 
Company, after making an effort to get a berth in Lodge 
Brothers' for Raymond's sake. He is now, and has been 
since the war began, the owner of Raymond's dog Larry, 
about whom some local people remember that there was 
an amusing County Court case.] 

" 98 Mansel Road, Small Heath, Birmingham, 

17 September 1915 

" DEAR MR. LIONEL, The shock was too great for me 
to speak to you this afternoon. I should like to express 
to you, and all the family, my deepest and most heartfelt 
sympathy in your terrible loss. Mr. Raymond was the 
best friend I ever had. 

" Truly, I thought more of him than any other man 
living, not only for his kind thoughts towards me, but for 
his most admirable qualities, which I knew he possessed. 
" The memory of him will remain with me as long as I 
live. Believe me to be, yours faithfully, 



" Peace, peace I he is not dead, he doth not sleep 
He hath awakened from the dream of life." 

SHELLEY, Adonais 


I HAVE made no secret of my conviction, not merely 
that personality persists, but that its continued 
existence is more entwined with the life of every day 
than has been generally imagined ; that there is no read 
breach of continuity between the dead and the living ; 
and that methods of intercommunion across what has 
seemed to be a gulf can be set going in response to the 
urgent demand of affection, that in fact, as Diotima told 
Socrates (Symposium, 202 and 203), LOVE BRIDGES THE 


Nor is it affection only that controls and empowers 
supernormal intercourse : scientific interest and missionary 
zeal constitute supplementary motives which are found 
efficacious ; and it has been mainly through efforts so 
actuated that I and some others have been gradually 
convinced, by direct experience, of a fact which before 
long must become patent to mankind. 

Hitherto I have testified to occurrences and messages 
of which the motive is intellectual rather than emotional : 
and though much, very much, even of this evidence 
remains inaccessible to the public, yet a good deal has 
appeared from time to time by many writers in the 
Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, 
and in my personal collection called The Survival of 
Man. No one therefore will be surprised if I now 
further testify concerning communications which come 
home to me in a peculiar sense ; communications from 
which sentiment is not excluded, though still they appear 
to be guided and managed with intelligent and on the 
whole evidential purpose. These are what I now decide 
to publish ; and I shall cite them as among those evidences 
for survival for the publication of which some legitimate 
demand has of late been made, owing to my having 


declared my belief in continued existence without being 
able to give the full grounds of that belief, because much 
of it concerned other people. The portion of evidence I 
shall now cite concerns only myself and family. 

I must make selection, it is true, for the bulk has 
become great ; but I shall try to select fairly, and especi- 
ally shall give in fair fullness those early communications 
which, though not so free and easy as they became with 
more experience, have yet an interest of their own, since 
they represent nascent powers and were being received 
through members of the family to whom the medium was 
a complete stranger and who gave no clue to identity. 

Messages of an intelligible though rather recondite 
character from " Myers " began to reach me indeed a 
week or two before the death of my son ; and nearly all 
the messages received since his death differ greatly in 
character from those which in the old days were received 
through any medium with whom I sat. No youth was 
then represented as eager to communicate ; and though 
friends were described as sending messages, the messages 
were represented as coming from appropriate people 
members of an elder generation, leaders of the Society 
for Psychical Research, and personal acquaintances. 
Whereas now, whenever any member of the family visits 
anonymously a competent medium, the same youth soon 
comes to the fore and is represented as eager to prove his 
personal survival and identity. 

I consider that he has done so. And the family 
scepticism, which up to this time has been sufficiently 
strong, is now, I may fairly say, overborne by the facts. 
How far these facts can be conveyed to the sympathetic 
understanding of strangers, I am doubtful. But I must 
plead for a patient hearing ; and if I make mistakes, 
either in what I include, or in what for brevity I omit, or 
if my notes and comments fail in clearness, I bespeak a 
friendly interpretation : for it is truly from a sense of duty 
that in so personal a matter I lay myself open to harsh and 
perhaps cynical criticism. 

It may be said Why attach so much importance to 
one individual case ? I do not attach especial importance 
to it, but every individual case is of moment, because 
in such a matter the aphorism Ex uno disce omnes is 


strictly applicable. If we can establish the survival of 
any single ordinary individual we have established it 
for all. 

Christians may say that the case for one Individual 
was established nearly 1900 years ago ; but they have 
most of them confused the issue by excessive though 
perhaps legitimate and necessary emphasis on the ex- 
ceptional and unique character of that Personality. And 
a school of thought has arisen which teaches that ordinary 
men can only attain immortality vicariously that is, 
conditionally on acceptance of a certain view concerning 
the benefits of that Sacrificial Act, and active assimilation 
of them. 

So without arguing on any such subject, and without 
entering in the slightest degree on any theological question, 
I have endeavoured to state the evidence fully and 
frankly for the persistent existence of one of the multi- 
tude of youths who have sacrificed their lives at the cal 
of their Country when endangered by an aggressor of 
calculated ruthlessness. 

Some critics may claim that there are many stronger 
cases of established survival. That may be, but this 
is a case which touches me closely and has necessarily 
received my careful attention. In so far as there are 
other strong cases and I know of several so much the 
better. I myself considered the case of survival practi- 
cally proven before, and clinched by the efforts of Myers 
and others of the S.P.R. group on the other side ; but 
evidence is cumulative, and the discussion of a fresh case 
in no way weakens those that have gone before. Each 
stick of the faggot must be tested, and, unless absolutely 
broken, it adds to the strength of the bundle. 

To base so momentous a conclusion as a scientific 
demonstration of human survival on any single instance. 
if it were not sustained on all sides by a great consensus 
of similar evidence, would doubtless be unwise ; for 
some other explanation of a merely isolated case would 
have to be sought. But we are justified in examining 
the evidence for any case of which all the details are 
known, and in trying to set forth the truth of it as com- 
pletely and fairly as we may. 


FOR people who have studied psychical matters, or 
who have read any books on the subject, it is un- 
necessary to explain what a ' sitting ' is. Novices 
must be asked to refer to other writings to small books, 
for instance, by Sir W. F. Barrett or Mr. J. Arthur 
Hill or Miss H. A. Dallas, which are easily accessible, or 
to my own previous book on this subject called The 
Survival of Man, which begins more at the beginning so 
far as my own experience is concerned. 

Of mediumship there are many grades, one of the 
simplest forms being the capacity to receive an impression 
or automatic writing, under peaceful conditions, in an 
ordinary state ; but the whole subject is too large to be 
treated here. Suffice it to say that the kind of medium 
chiefly dealt with in this book is one who, by waiting 
quietly, goes more or less into a trance, and is then sub- 
ject to what is called ' control ' speaking or writing in a 
manner quite different from the medium's own normal or 
customary manner, under the guidance of a separate in- 
telligence technically known as ' a control/ which some 
think must be a secondary personality which indeed 
certainly is a secondary personality of the medium, what- 
ever that phrase may really signify the transition being 
effected in most cases quite easily and naturally. In this 
secondary state, a degree of clairvoyance or lucidity is at- 
tained quite beyond the medium's normal consciousness, 
and facts are referred to which must be outside his or her 
normal knowledge. The control, or second personality 
which speaks during the trance, appears to be more 
closely in touch with what is popularly spoken of as 
' the next world ' than with customary human existence, 



and accordingly is able to get messages through from 
people deceased ; transmitting them through the speech or 
writing of the medium, usually with some obscurity and 
misunderstanding, and with mannerisms belonging either 
to the medium or to the control. The amount of sophisti- 
cation varies according to the quality of the medium, and 
to the state of the same medium at different times ; it 
must be attributed in the best cases physiologically to the 
medium, intellectually to the control. The confusion is no 
greater than might be expected from a pair of operators, 
connected by a telephone of rather delicate and uncertain 
quality, who were engaged in transmitting messages 
between two stranger communicators, one of whom was 
anxious to get messages transmitted, though perhaps 
not very skilled in wording them, while the other was 
nearly silent and anxious not to give any information or 
assistance at all ; being, indeed, more or less suspicious 
that the whole appearance of things was deceptive, and 
that his friend, the ostensible communicator, was not really 
there. Under such circumstances the effort of the distant 
communicator would be chiefly directed to sending such 
natural and appropriate messages as should gradually 
break down the inevitable scepticism of his friend. 


I must assume it known that messages purporting to 
come from various deceased people have been received 
through various mediums, and that the Society for 
Psychical Research has especially studied those coming 
through Mrs. Piper a resident in the neighbourhood of 
Boston, U.S.A. during the past thirty years. We were 
introduced to her by Professor William James. My own 
experience with this lady began during her visit to this 
country in 1889, an d was renewed in 1906. The account 
has been fully published in the Proceedings of the 
Society for Psychical Research, vols. vi. and xxiii., and 
an abbreviated version of some of the incidents there 
recorded can be referred to in my book The Survival 
of Man. 

It will be convenient, however, to explain here that 
some of the communicators on the other side, like Mr. 


Myers and Dr. Richard Hodgson, both now deceased, have 
appeared to utilise many mediums ; and that to allow 
for possible sophistication by normal mental idiosyn- 
crasies, and for any natural warping due to the physio- 
logical mechanism employed, or to the brain-deposit from 
which selection has to be made, we write the name of the 
ostensible communicator in each case with a suffix like 
MyerSp, Myers v , etc. ; meaning by this kind of designation 
to signify that part of the Myers-like intelligence which 
operates through Mrs. Piper or through Mrs. Verrall, etc., 

We know that communication must be hampered, and 
its form largely determined, by the unconscious but in- 
evitable influence of a transmitting mechanism, whether 
that be of a merely mechanical or of a physiological 
character. Every artist knows that he must adapt the 
expression of his thought to his material, and that what 
is possible with one ' medium/ even in the artist's sense 
of the word, is not possible with another. 

And when the method of communication is purely 
mental or telepathic, we are assured that the communicator 
' on the other side ' has to select from and utilise those 
ideas and channels which represent the customary mental 
scope of the medium ; though by practised skill and in- 
genuity they can be woven into fresh patterns and be made 
to convey to a patient and discriminating interpreter the 
real intention of the communicator's thought. In many 
such telepathic communications the physical form which 
the emergent message takes is that of automatic or semi- 
conscious writing or speech ; the manner of the utterance 
being fairly normal, but the substance of it appearing not 
to emanate from the writer's or speaker's own mind : 
though but very seldom is either the subject-matter or the 
language of a kind quite beyond the writer's or speaker's 
normal capabilities. 

In other cases, when the medium becomes entranced, 
the demonstration of a communicator's separate intelli- 
gence may become stronger and the sophistication less. 
A still further stage is reached when by special effort what 
is called telergy is employed, i.e. when physiological mech- 
anism is more directly utilised without telepathic opera- 
tion on the mind. And a still further step away from 


personal sophistication, though under extra mechanical 
difficulties, is attainable in telekinesis or what appears to 
be the direct movement of inorganic matter. To this last 
category though in its very simplest form must belong, 
I suppose, the percussive sounds known as raps. 

To understand the intelligent tiltings of a table in con- 
tact with human muscles is a much simpler matter. It is 
crude and elementary, but in principle it does not appear 
to differ from automatic writing ; though inasmuch as the 
code and the movements are so simple, it appears to be the 
easiest of all to beginners. It is so simple that it has been 
often employed as a sort of game, and so has fallen into 
disrepute. But its possibilities are not to be ignored for all 
that ; and in so far as it enables a feeling of more direct 
influence in so far as the communicator feels able him- 
self to control the energy necessary, instead of having to 
entrust his message to a third person it is by many com- 
municators preferred. More on this subject will be found 
in Chapters VIII of Part II and XIV of Part III. 

Before beginning an historical record of the com- 
munications and messages received from or about my 
son since his death, I think it will be well to prelude it 

(i) A message which arrived before the event ; 

(ii) A selection of subsequent communications bear- 
on and supplementing this message ; 

(iii) One of the evidential episodes, selected from 
subsequent communications, which turned 
out to be exactly verifiable. 

A few further details about these things, and another 
series of messages of evidential importance, will be 
found in that Part of the Proceedings of the S.P.R. 
which is to be published about October 1916. 

If the full discussion allowed to these selected por- 
tions appears rather complicated, an unstudious reader 
may skip the next three chapters, on a first reading, and 
may learn about the simpler facts in their evolutionary 
or historical order. 


Preliminary Facts 

AYMOND joined the Army in September 1914 ; trained near 
Liverpool and Edinburgh with the ! 

R Liverpool and Edinburgh'with the South Lancashires, and 
in March 1915 was sent to the trenches in Flanders. In 
the middle of July 1915 he had a few days' leave at home, 
and on the 2oth returned to the Front. 


The first intimation that I had that anything might 
be going wrong, was a message from Myers through 
Mrs. Piper in America ; communicated apparently by 
" Richard Hodgson " at a time when a Miss Robbins was 
having a sitting at Mrs. Piper's house, Greenfield, New 
Hampshire, on 8 August 1915, and sent me by Miss Alta 
Piper (A. L. P.) together with the original script. Here 
follows the extract, which at a certain stage in Miss 
Robbins's sitting, after having dealt with matters of 
personal significance to her, none of which had anything 
whatever to do with me, began abruptly thus : 

R. H. Now Lodge, while we are not here as of old, i.e. 
not quite, we are here enough to take and give 

Myers says you take the part of the poet, and 
he will act as Faunus. FAUNUS. 
MISS R. Faunus ? 

R. H. Yes. Myers. Protect. He will understand. 
(Evidently referring to Lodge. A. L. P.) 
What have you to say, Lodge ? Good work. 
Ask Verrall, she will also understand. Arthur 
says so. [This means Dr. Arthur W. Verrall 
(deceased). O. J. L.] 


MISS R. Do you mean Arthur Tennyson ? 

This absurd confusion, stimulated by the word 
' poet/ was evidently the result of a long strain at 
reading barely legible trance-writing for more than 
an hour, and was recognised immediately after- 
wards with dismayed amusement by the sitter. It 
is only of interest as showing how completely 
unknown to anyone present was the reference 
intended by the communicator. O. J. L.] 

R. H. No. Myers knows. So does You 

got mixed (to Miss R.), but Myers is straight about 
Poet and Faunus. 

I venture to say that to non-classical people the 
above message conveys nothing. It did not convey 
anything to me, beyond the assurance, based on past 
experience, that it certainly meant something definite, 
that its meaning was probably embedded in a classical 
quotation, and that a scholar like Mrs. Verrall would be 
able to interpret it, even if only the bare skeleton of the 
message were given without any details as to source. 


In order to interpret this message, therefore, I wrote 
to Mrs. Verrall as instructed, asking her : " Does The Poet 
and Faunus mean anything to you ? Did one ' protect ' 
the other ? " She replied at once (8 September 1915) 
referring me to Horace, Carm. n. xvii. 27-30, and 
saying : * 

" The reference is to Horace's account of his narrow 
escape from death, from a falling tree, which he ascribes 
to the intervention of Faunus. Cf. Hor. Odes, n. xiii. ; 
ii. xvii. 27 ; in. iv. 27 ; in. viii. 8, for references to 
the subject. The allusion to Faunus is in Ode n. xvii. 

27-30 : 

'Me truncus illapsus cerebro 
Sustulerat, nisi Faunus ictum 
Dextra levasset, Mercurialium 
Gustos virorum.' 

" ' Faunus, the guardian of poets ' (' poets ' being the 
usual interpretation of ' Mercury's men ). 


" The passage is a very well-known one to all readers of 
Horace, and is perhaps specially familiar from its con- 
taining, in the sentence quoted, an unusual grammatical 
construction. It is likely to occur in a detailed work on 
Latin Grammar. 

" The passage has no special associations for me other 
than as I have described, though it has some interest as 
forming part of a chronological sequence among the Odes, 
not generally admitted by commentators, but accepted 
by me. 

" The words quoted are, of course, strictly applicable 
to the Horatian passage, which they instantly recalled 
tome. (Signed) M. DE G. VERRALL" 

I perceived therefore, from this manifestly correct 
interpretation of the ' Myers ' message to me, that the 
meaning was that some blow was going to fall, or was likely 
to fall, though I didn't know of what kind, and that Myers 
would intervene, apparently to protect me from it. So far 
as I can recollect my comparatively trivial thoughts on 
the subject, I believe that 1 had some vague idea that the 
catastrophe intended was perhaps of a financial rather 
than of a personal kind. 

The above message reached me near the beginning of 
September in Scotland. Raymond was killed near Ypres 
on 14 September 1915, and we got the news by telegram 
from the War Office on 17 September. A fallen or falling 
tree is a frequently used symbol for death ; perhaps 
through misinterpretation of EccL xi. 3. To several other 
classical scholars I have since put the question I addressed 
to Mrs. Verrall, and they all referred me to Horace, Carm. 
ii. xvii. as the unmistakable reference. 

Mr. Bay field's Criticism 

Soon after the event, I informed the Rev. M. A. 
Bayfield, ex-headmaster of Eastbourne College, fully of 
the facts, as an interesting S.P.R. incident (saying at the 
same time that Myers had not been able to ' ward off * 
the blow) ; and he was good enough to send me a careful 
note in reply : 

" Horace does not, in any reference to his escape, say 


clearly whether the tree struck him, but I have always 
thought it did. He says Faunus lightened the blow ; he 
does not say ' turned it aside. 1 As bearing on your 
terrible loss, the meaning seems to be that the blow would 
fall but would not crush ; it would be ' lightened ' by 
the assurance, conveyed afresh to you by a special mes- 
sage from the still living Myers, that your boy still lives. 
" I shall be interested to know what you think of this 
interpretation. The ' protect ' I take to mean protect 
from being overwhelmed by the blow, from losing faith 
and hope, as we are all in danger of doing when smitten 
by some crushing personal calamity. Many a man when 
so smitten has, like Merlin, lain 

' as dead, 
And lost to life and use and name and fame.' 

That seems to me to give a sufficiently precise application 
to the word (on which Myers apparently insists) and to 
the whole reference to Horace." , 

In a postscript he adds the following : 
" In Carm. ni. 8, Horace describes himself as prope 
funeratus / arboris ictu, ' wellnigh killed by a blow from 
a tree/ An artist in expression, such as he was, would 
not have mentioned any ' blow ' if there had been none ; 
he would have said ' well nigh killed by a falling tree ' 
or the like. It is to be noted that in both passages he 
uses the word ictus. And in ii. 13. n (the whole ode is 
addressed to the tree) he says the man must have been a 
fellow steeped in every wickedness ' who planted thee 
an accursed lump of wood, a thing meant to fall (this is 
the delicate meaning of caducum not merely " falling' 1 ) 
on thine undeserving master's head/ Here again the 
language implies that he was struck, and struck on 
the head. 

" Indeed, the escape must have been a narrow one, and 
it is to me impossible to believe that Horace would have 
been so deeply impressed by the accident if he had not 
actually been struck. He refers to it four times : 

Carm. ii. 13. (Ode addressed to the tree forty 

lines long.) 
ii. 17. 27. 


iii. 4. 27. (Here he puts the risk he ran on a 
parallel with that of the rout at 
rhilippi, from which he escaped.) 

iii. 8. 8. 

" I insist on all this as strengthening my interpreta- 
tion, and also as strengthening the assignment of the 
script to Myers, who would of course be fully alive to all 
the points to be found in his reference to Faunus and 
Horace and, as I have no doubt, believed that Horace 
did not escape the actual blow, and that it was a severe 


Since some of the translators, especially verse translators, of 
Horace convey the idea of turning aside or warding off the blow, 
it may be well to emphasise the fact that most of the scholars 
consulted gave " lightened " or " weakened " as the translation. 
And Professor Strong says " no doubt at all that ' levasset ' 
means * weakened ' the blow ; the bough fell and struck the 
Poet, but lightly, through the action of Faunus. * Levo ' in this 
sense is quite common and classical." 

Bryce's prose translation (Bohn) is quite clear " a tree-stem 
falling on my head had surely been my death, had not good 
Faunus eased the blow . . ." And although Conington's transla- 
tion has " check'd the blow in mid descent/ 1 he really means the 
same thing, because it is the slaying, not the wounding or striking 
of the Poet that is prevented : 

"Me the curst trunk, that smote my skull, 
Had slain ; but Faunus, strong to shield 
The friends of Mercury, check'd the blow 
In mid descent." 


Mr. Bayfield also calls my attention to another portion 
of Piper Script in this case not a trance or semi-trance 
sitting, but ordinary automatic writing dated 5 August, 
which reached me simultaneously with the one already 
quoted from, at the beginning of September, and which 
he says seems |ntended to prepare me for some personal 
trouble : 

" Yes. For the moment, Lodge, have faith and 
wisdom [? confidence] in all that is highest and best. 
Have you all not been profoundly guided and 
cared for ? Can you answer, ' No ' ? It is by your 
faith that all is well and has been/* 


I remember being a little struck by the wording in the 
above script, urging me to admit that we presumably 
the family had " been profoundly guided and cared for," 
and " that all is well and has been ' ; because it seemed 
to indicate that something was not going to be quite so 
well. But it was too indefinite to lead me to make any 
careful record of it, or to send it as a prediction to anybody 
for filing ; and it would no doubt have evaporated from 
my mind except for the ' Faunus ' warning, given three 
days later, though received at the same time, which seemed 
to me clearly intended as a prediction, whether it happened 
to come off or not. 

The two Piper communications, of which parts have 
now been quoted, reached me at Gullane, East Lothian, 
where my wife (M. F. A. L.) and I were staying for a few 
weeks. They arrived early in September 1915, and as 
soon as I had heard from Mrs. Verrall I wrote to Miss 
Piper to acknowledge them, as follows : 

" The Linga Private Hotel, 
Gullane, East Lothian, 

12 September 1915 

11 MY DEAR ALTA, The reference to the Poet and Faunus 
in your mother's last script is quite intelligible, and a good 
classical allusion. You might tell the s communicator ' some time 
if there is opportunity. 

" I feel sure that it must convey nothing to you and yours. 
That is quite as it should be, as you know, for evidential reasons." 

This was written two days before Raymond's death, 
and five days before we heard of it. The Pipers' ignor- 
ance of any meaning in the Poet and Faunus allusion 
was subsequently confirmed. 

It so happens that this letter was returned to me, for 
some unknown reason, through the Dead Letter Office, 
reaching me on 14 November 1915, and being then sent 
forward by me again. 1 * 

1 Further Piper and other communications, obscurely relevant to 
this subject, will be found in a Paper which will appear in the S.P.R. 
for the autumn of 1916, 


IT now remains to indicate how far Myers carried 
out his implied promise, and what steps he took, 
or has been represented as having taken, to lighten 
the blow which it is permissible to say was a terribly 
severe one. 

For such evidence I must quote from the record of 
sittings held here in England with mediums previously 
unknown, and by sitters who gave no sort of clue as 
to identity. (See the historical record, beginning at 
Chapter V.) 

It may be objected that my own general appearance is 
known or might be guessed. But that does not apply to 
members of my family, who went quite anonymously to 
private sittings kindly arranged for by a friend in London 
(Mrs. Kennedy, wife of Dr. Kennedy), who was no relation 
whatever, but whose own personal experience caused her 
to be sympathetic and helpful, and who is both keen and 
critical about evidential considerations. 

I may state, for what it is worth, that as a matter of 
fact normal clues to identity are disliked, and, in so far as 
they are gratuitous, are even resented, by a good medium ; 
for they are no manner of use, and yet subsequently they 
appear to spoil evidence. It is practically impossible for 
mediums to hunt up and become normally acquainted 
with the family history of their numerous sitters, and 
those who know them are well aware that they do nothing 
of the sort, but in making arrangements for a sitting it is 
not easy, unless special precautions are taken, to avoid 
giving a name and an address, and thereby appearing to 
give facilities for fraud. 

In our case, and in that of our immediate friends, these 


precautions have been taken sometimes in a rather 
elaborate manner/ 

The first sitting that was held after Raymond's death 
by any member of the family was held not explicitly 
for the purpose of getting into communication with him 
still less with any remotest notion of entering into com- 
munication with Mr. Myers but mainly because a. French 
widow lady, who had been kind to our daughters during 
winters in Paris, was staying with my wife at Edgbaston 
her first real visit to England and was in great dis- 
tress at the loss of both her beloved sons in the war, within 
a week of each other, so that she was left desolate. To 
comfort her my wife took her up to London to call on Mrs. 
Kennedy, and to get a sitting arranged for with a medium 
whom that lady knew and recommended. Two anonymous 
interviews were duly held, and incidentally I may say that 
the two sons of Madame communicated, on both occasions, 
though with difficulty ; that one of them gave his name 
completely, the other approximately ; and that the mother, 
who was new to the whole subject, was partially consoled. 1 
Raymond, however, was represented as coming with 
them and helping them, and as sending some messages on 
his own account. I shall here only quote those messages 
which bear upon the subject of Myers and have any possible 
connexion with the ' Faunus ' message. 

(For an elementary explanation about 'sittings' in 
general, see Chapter I.) 


We heard first of Raymond's death on 17 September 
1915, and on 25 September his mother (M. F. A. L.), who 
was having an anonymous sitting for a friend with Mrs. 
Leonard, then a complete stranger, had the following 
spelt out by tilts of a table, as purporting to come from 
Raymond : 


1 I realise now, though the relevance has only just struck me, that 
from the point of view of an outside critic, pardonably suspicious of bad 
faith, this episode of the bereaved French lady an obviously complete 
stranger to Mrs. Kennedy as well as to the medium has an evidential 
and therefore helpful side. 



M. F. A. L. Can you give any name ? 

(That was all on that subject on that occasion.) 

On the 27th of September 1915, I myself went to 
London and had my first sitting, between noon and one 
o'clock, with Mrs. Leonard. I went to her house or flat 
alone, as a complete stranger, for whom an appointment 
had been made through Mrs. Kennedy. Before we began, 
Mrs. Leonard informed me that her ' guide ' or ' control ' 
was a young girl named " Feda." 

In a short time after the medium had gone into trance, 
a youth was described in terms which distinctly suggested 
Raymond, and " Feda " brought messages. I extract the 
following : 

From First Anonymous Sitting of 0. J. L. with 
Mrs. Leonard, 27 September 1915 

(Mrs. Leonard's control, Feda, supposed to be speaking 

He finds it difficult, he says, but he has got so many 
kind friends helping him. He didn't think when he waked 
up first that he was going to be happy, but now he is, and 
he says he is going to be happier. He knows that as soon 
as he is a little more ready he has got a great deal of work 
to do. " I almost wonder," he says, " shall I be fit and able 
to do it. They tell me I shall/' 

" I have instructors and teachers with me." Now he 
is trying to build up a letter of some one ; M. he shows me. 

(A short time later, he said : ) 

" People think I say I am happy in order to make 
them happier, but I don't. 1 I have met hundreds of 
friends. I don't know them all. I have met many who 
tell me that, a little later, they will explain why they are 
helping me. I feel I have got two fathers now. I don't 
feel I have lost one and got another ; I have got both. 

1 This is reminiscent of a sentence in one of his letters from the 
Front: "As cheerful and well and happy as ever. Don't think I am 
having a rotten time I am not." Dated u May 1915 (really 12). 


I have got my old one, and another too a pro tern. 

(Here Feda ejaculated " What's that ? Is that 
right?" O. J. L. replied 'Yes/) 
There is a weight gone off his mind the last day or two ; 
he feels brighter and lighter and happier altogether, the 
last few days. There was confusion at first. He could 
not get his bearings, didn't seem to know where he was. 
" But I was not very long," he says, " and I think I was 
very fortunate ; it was not very long before it was ex- 
plained to me where I was." 

But the most remarkable indirect allusion, or apparent 
allusion, to something like the ' Faunus f message, came 
at the end of the sitting, after " Raymond " had gone, and 
just before Mrs. Leonard came out of trance : 

" He is gone, but Feda sees something which is only 
symbolic ; she sees a cross falling back on to you ; very 
dark, falling on to you ; dark and heavy looking ; and as 
it falls it gets twisted round and the other side seems all 
light, and the light is shining all over you. It is a sort of 
pale blue, but it is white and quite light when it touches 
you. Yes, that is what Feda sees. The cross looked 
dark, and then it suddenly twisted round and became a 
beautiful light. The cross is a means of shedding real 
light. It is going to help a great deal. 

" Did you know you had a coloured Guide ? ... He 
says your son is the cross of light ; he is the cross of light, 
and ne is going to be a light that will help you ; he is 
going to help too to prove to the world the Truth. That 
is why they built up the dark cross that turned to bright. 
You know ; but others, they do so want to know. Feda 
is loosing hold ; good-bye." 

[This ends the 0. J. L. first Leonard sitting of 
27 September 1915.] 

On the afternoon of the same day, 27 September 1915, 
that I had this first sitting with Mrs. Leonard, Lady Lodge 
had her first sitting, as a complete stranger, with Mr. A. 
Vout Peters, who had been invited for the purpose with- 
out any name being given to Mrs. Kennedy's house at 
3-30 p.m. 


Here again, Raymond was described well enough, fairly 
early in the sitting, and several identifying messages were 
given. Presently ' Moonstone ' (Peters's chief control) 
asked, " Was he not associated with Chemistry ? " As a 
matter of fact, my laboratory has been rather specially 
chemical of late ; and the record continues, copied with 
subsequent annotations in square brackets as it stands : 

From First Anonymous Sitting of M. F. A. L. with Peters, 
27 September 1915 

Was he not associated with chemistry ? If not, 
some one associated with him was, because I see all 
the things in a chemical laboratory. 
That chemistry thing takes me away from him to a 
man in the flesh [O. J. L. presumably] ; and, con- 
nected with him, a man, a writer of poetry, on our 
side, closely connected with spiritualism. He was 
very clever he too passed away out of England. 

[This is clearly meant for Myers, who died in 

He has communicated several times. This gentle- 
man who wrote poetry I see the letter M he is 
helping your son to communicate. 

[His presence and help were also independently 
mentioned by Mrs. Leonard.] 
He is built up in the chemical conditions. 
If your son didn't know this man, he knew of him. 

[Yes, he could hardly haveltnown him, as he was 
only about twelve at the time of Myers's death.] 
At the back of the gentleman beginning with M, and 
who wrote poetry, is a whole group of people. [The 
S.P.R. group, doubtless.] They are very inter- 
ested. And don't be surprised if you get messages 
from them, even if you don't know them. 

(Then ' Moonstone ' stopped, and said : ) 
This is so important that is going to be said now, 
that I want to go slowly, for you to write clearly 
every word (dictating carefully) : 



This message is for the gentleman associated with 
the chemical laboratory. 

([Considering that my wife was quite unknown 
to the medium, this is a remarkably evidential and 
identifying message. Cf. passage in my book, 
Survival of Man, containing this tunnel-boring 
simile ; p. 337 of large edition, p. 234 of shilling 
edition. O. J. L.] 
' Moonstone ' continued : 

The boy I call them all boys because I was over 
a hundred when I lived here and they are all boys to 
me he says, he is here, but he says : 

" Hitherto it has been a thing of the head, now I am 
come over it is a thing of the heart." 
What is more (here Peters jumped up in his chair, 
vigorously, snapped his fingers excitedly, and spoke 

" Good God ! how father will be able to speak out ! 
much firmer than he has ever done, because it will 
touch our hearts." 

(Here ends extract from Peters sitting of 27 September 
1915. A completer record will be found in 
Chapter VII .V 

At a Leonard Table Sitting on 12 October 1915 by 
which time our identity was known to Mrs. Leonard I 
told ' Myers ' that I understood his Piper message about 
Faunus and the Poet ; and the only point of interest about 
the reply or comment is that the two following sentences 
were spelt out, purporting to come either indirectly or 
directly from ' Myers ' : 

1. He says it meant your son's transition]. 

2. Your son shall be mine. 

The next ' Myers ' reference came on 29 October, 
when I had a sitting with Peters, unexpectedly and 
unknown to my family, at his London room (15 Dever- 
eux Court, Fleet Street) a sitting arranged for by Mr. 
J. A. Hill for an anonymous friend : 

Peters went into trance, and after some other com- 
munications, gave messages from a youth who was recog- 
nised by the control and identified as my son ; and later on 


Peters's * control/ whom it is customary to call ' Moon- 
stone/ spoke thus : 

From Sitting of 0. J. L. with Peters on 29 October 1915 

Your common-sense method of approaching the 
subject in the family has been the means ot helping 
him to come back as he has been able to do ; and 
had he not known what you had told him, then it 
would have been far more difficult for him to come 
back. He is very deliberate in what he says. He is 
a young man that knows what he is saying. Do 
you know F W M ? 

o. J. L. Yes, I do. 

Because I see those three letters. Now, after 
them, do you know S T ; yes, I get S T, then a 
dot, and then P ? These are shown me ; I see 
them in light ; your boy shows these things to me. 

O. J. L. Yes, I understand. [Meaning that I recognised 
the allusion to F. W. H. Myers's poem St. Paul. 

Well, he says to me : " He has helped me so 
much, more than you think. That is F W M." 

o. J. L. Bless him ! 

No, your boy laughs, he has got an ulterior 
motive for it ; don't think it was only for charity's 
sake, he has got an ulterior motive, and thinks that 
you will be able by the strength of your personality 
to do what you want to do now, to ride over the 
quibbles of the fools, and to make the Society, the 
Society, he says, of some use to the world. . . . 
Can you understand ? 

o. j. L. Yes. 

Now he says, " He helped me because, with me 
through you, he can break away the dam that 
people have set up. Later on, you are going to 
speak to them. It is already on the programme, 
and you will break down the opposition because of 
me. Then he says, " For God's sake, father, do it. 
Because if you only knew, and could only see what 
I see : hundreds of men and women heart-broken. 
And if you could only see the boys on our side shut 
out, you would throw the whole strength of yourself 


into this work. But you can doit." He is very 
earnest. Oh, and he wants No, I must stop him, 
I must prevent him, I don't want him to control the 
medium. Don't think me unkind, but I must pro- 
tect my medium ; he would not be able to do the 
work he has to do ; the medium would be ill from it, 
I must protect him, the emotion would be too great, 
too great for both of you, so I must prevent him 
from controlling. 

He understands, but he wants me to tell you 
this : 

The feeling on going over was one of intense dis- 
appointment, he had no idea of death. The second 
too was grief. (Pause.) 

This is a time when men and women have had 
the crust broken off them a crust of convention, 
of ... of indifference, has been smashed, and 
everybody thinks, though some selfishly. 

Now, returning to him, how patient he is ! He 
was not always so patient. After the grief there 
was a glimmering of hope, because he realised that 
he could get back to you ; and because his grand- 
mother came to him. Then his brother was intro- 
duced to him. Then, he says, other people. My- 
erse " Myerse," it sounds like do you know what 
he means ? came to him, and then he knew he 
could get back. He knew. 

Now he wants me to tell you this : That from 
his death, which is only one of thousands, that the 
work which he (I have to translate his ideas into 
words, I don't get them verbatum [sic]) the work 
which he volunteered to be able to succeed in, no, 
that's not it. The work which he enlisted for, that 
is what he says, only he was only a unit and seem- 
ingly lost yet the very fact of his death will be 
the means of pushing it on. Now I have got it. 
By his passing away, many hundreds will be bene- 

(End of extract from Peters sitting of 
29 October 1915.) 


(A still fuller account of the whole ' Faunus ' episode, 
and a further sequel to it of a classical kind, called the 
" Horace O. L." message, will be found in the S.P.R. 
Proceedings for the autumn of 1916.) 

It will be understood, I hope, that the above extracts 
from sittings have been reproduced here in order to show 
that, if we take the incidents on their face value, Myers 
had redeemed his ' Faunus ' promise, and had lightened the 
blow by looking after and helping my son ' on the other 
side/ I now propose to make some further extracts of 
a more evidential character tending to establish the 
survival of my son's own personality and memory. There 
have been several of these evidential episodes, making 
strongly in this direction ; but I select, for description 
here, one relating to a certain group photograph, of which 
we were told through two mediums, but of which we 
normally knew nothing till afterwards. 


I NOW come to a peculiarly good piece of evidence 
arising out of the sittings which from time to time 
we held in the autumn of 1915, namely, the mention 
and description of a group photograph taken near the 
Front, of the existence of which we were in complete ignor- 
ance, but which was afterwards verified in a satisfactory 
and complete manner. It is necessary to report the cir- 
cumstances rather fully : 

Raymond was killed on 14 September 1915. 
The first reference to a photograph taken of him with 
other men was made by Peters at M. F. A. L/s first sitting 
with Peters, in Mrs. Kennedy's house, on 27 September 
1915, thus : 

Extract from M. F. A. L.'s anonymous Sitting with Peters 
on 27 September 1915 

" You have several portraits of this boy. Before 
he went away you had got a good portrait of him 
two no, three. Two where he is alone and one 
where he is in a group of other men. He is 
particular that I should tell you of this. In one you 
see his walking-stick " (' Moonstone ' here put an 
imaginary stick under his arm). 

We had single photographs of him of course, and 
in uniform, but we did not know of the existence of 
a photograph in which he was one of a group ; and 
M. F. A. L. was sceptical about it, thinking that it might 
well be only a shot or guess on the part of Peters' at some- 
thing probable. But Mrs. Kennedy (as Note-taker) had 

written down most of what was said, and this record was 



kept, copied, and sent to Mr. Hill in the ordinary course 
at the time. 

I was myself, moreover, rather impressed with the 
emphasis laid on it " he is particular that I should tell 
you of this " and accordingly made a half-hearted inquiry 
or two ; but nothing more was heard on the subject for 
two months. On Monday, 29 November, however, a letter 
came from Mrs. Cheves, a stranger to us, mother of Captain 
Cheves of the R.A.M.C., who had known Raymond and 
had reported to us concerning the nature of his wound, 
and who is still doing good work at the Front. 

Mrs. Cheves 1 welcome letter ran as follows : 

" 28 November 1915 

" DEAR LADY LODGE, My son, who is M.O. to the 2nd South 
Lanes, has sent us a group of officers taken in August, and I 
wondered whether you knew of this photo and had had a copy. 
If not may I send you one, as we have half a dozen and also a 
key ? I hope you will forgive my writing to ask this, but I have 
often thought of you and felt so much for you in yr. great sorrow. 
Sincerely yours, B. F. CHEVES" 

M. F. A. L. promptly wrote, thanking her, and asking 
for it ; but fortunately it did not come at once. 

Before it came, I (O. J. L.) was having a sitting with 
Mrs. Leonard alone at her house on 3 December ; and on 
this occasion, among other questions, I asked carefully 
concerning the photograph, wishing to get more detailed 
information about it, before it was seen. It should be 
understood that the subject was not introduced by Mrs. 
Leonard or her control. The previous mention of a photo- 
graph had been through Peters. It was I that introduced 
the subject through Mrs. Leonard, and asked a question ; 
and the answers were thus reported and recorded at the 
time the typing out of the sitting being all done before 
the photograph arrived : 

Extract from the Record of 0. /. L.'s Sitting with 
Mrs. Leonard, 3 December 1915 

(Mrs. Leonard's child-control, Feda, supposed to be speaking, 
and often speaking of herself in the third person.) 

FEDA. Now ask him some more. 

o. j. L. Well, he said something about having a photo- 
graph taken with some other men. We haven't 


seen that photograph yet. Does he want to say 
anything more about it ? He spoke about a 

Yes, but he thinks it wasn't here. He looks at 
Feda, and he says, it wasn't to you, Feda. 
o. j. L. No, he's quite right. It wasn't. Can he say 
where he spoke of it ? 

He says it wasn't through the table. 
O. j. L. No, it wasn't. 

It wasn't here at all. He didn't know the 
person that he said it through. The conditions 
were strange there a strange house. [Quite true, 
it was said through Peters in Mrs. Kennedy's house 
during an anonymous sitting on 27 September.] 
o. j. L. Do you recollect the photograph at all ? 

He thinks there were several others taken with 
him, not one or two, but several. 
o. j. L. Were they friends of yours ? 

Some of them, he says. He didn't know them 
all, not very well. But he knew some ; he heard 
of some ; they were not all friends. 

O. j. L. Does he remember how he looked in the photo- 
graph ? 

No, he doesn't remember how he looked. 
O. J. L. No, no, I mean was he standing up ? 

No, he doesn't seem to think so. Some were 
raised up round ; he was sitting down, and some 
were raised up at the back of him. Some were 
standing, and some were sitting, he thinks. 
O. j. L. Were they soldiers ? 

He says yes a mixed lot. Somebody called C 
was on it with him ; and somebody called R not 
his own name, but another R. K, K, K he says 
something about K. 

He also mentions a man beginning with B 
(indistinct muttering something like Berry, Burney 
then clearly) but put down B. 

o. j. L. I am asking about the photograph because we 

haven't seen it yet. Somebody is going to send it 

to us. We have heard that it exists, and that's all. 

[While this is being written out, the above 

remains true. The photograph has not yet come.] 


He has the impression of about a dozen on it. 
A dozen, he says, if not more. Feda thinks it 
must be a big photograph. 

No, he doesn't think so, he says they were 
grouped close together. 
o. j. L. Did he have a stick ? 

He doesn't remember that. He remembers 
that somebody wanted to lean on him, but he is 
not sure if he was taken with some one leaning on 
him. But somebody wanted to lean on him he 
remembers. The last what he gave you, what 
were a B, will be rather prominent in that photo- 
graph. It wasn't taken in a photographer's place. 
O. J. L. Was it out of doors ? 

Yes, practically. 

FEDA (sotto voce). What you mean, ' yes practically ' ; 
must have been out of doors or not out of doors. 
You mean ' yes,' don't you ? 

Feda thinks he means ' yes,' because he says 
' practically.' 
o. j. L. It may have been a shelter. 

It might have been. Try to show Feda. 

At the back he shows me lines going down. It 
looks like a black background, with lines at the 
back of them. (Feda here kept drawing vertical 
lines in the air.) 

There was, for some reason, considerable delay in the 
arrival of the photograph ; it did not arrive till the after- 
noon of December 7. Meanwhile, on December 6, Lady 
Lodge had been looking up Raymond's Diary, which had 
been returned from the Front with his kit, and found an 
entry : 

" 24 August. Photo taken." 
(A statement will follow to this effect.) 

Now Raymond had only had one " leave " home since 
going to the Front, and tnis leave was from 16 July to 
20 July. The photograph had not been taken then, and 
so he could not have told us anything about it. The ex- 
posure was only made twenty-one days before his death, 
and some days may have elapsed before he saw a print, if 


he ever saw one. He certainly never mentioned it in his 
letters. We were therefore in complete ignorance con- 
cerning it ; and only recently had we normally become 
aware of its existence. 

On the morning of 7 December another note came 
from Mrs. Cheves, in answer to a question about the delay ; 
and this letter said that the photograph was being sent off. 
Accordingly I (O. J. L.), thinking that the photograph 
might be coming at once, dictated a letter to go to Mr. 
Hill, recording roughly my impression of what the photo- 
graph would be like, on the strength of the communication 
received by me from ' Raymond ' through Mrs. Leonard ; 
and this was posted by A. E. Briscoe about lunch-time on 
the same day. (See statement by Mr. Briscoe at the end.) 
My statement to Mr. Hill ran thus : 

Copy of what was written by 0. /. L. to Mr. Hill about the 
Photograph on the morning of Tuesday, 7 December 1915 

M Concerning that photograph which Raymond mentioned 
through Peters [saying this : - One where he is in a group of 
other men. He is particular that I should tell you of this. In 
one you see his walking-stick/], 1 he has said some more about 
it through Mrs. Leonard. But he is doubtful about the stick. 
What he says is that there is a considerable number of men in 
the photograph ; that the front row is sitting, and that there is 
a back row, or some of the people grouped and set up at the 
back ; also that there are a dozen or more people in the photo- 
graph, and that sonx- of them he hardly knew ; that a B is 
prominent in the photograph, and that there is also a C ; that 
he himself is sitting down, and that there are people behind him, 
one of whom either leant on his shoulder, or tried to. 

'* The photograph has not come yet, but it may come any 
day now ; so I send this off before I get it. 

li The actual record of what was said in the sitting is being 
typed, but the above represents my impression of it." 

The photograph was delivered at Mariemont between 
3 and 4 p.m. on the afternoon of 7 December. It was a 
wet afternoon, and the package was received by Rosa- 
lynde, who took the wet wrapper off it. Its size was 
12 by 9 inches, and was an enlargement from a 5 by 7 

1 Thte bit not written to J. A. H., but is copied from Ptera*s sitting, 
ol which Mr. Hill had seen the record. 


inch original. The number of people in the photograph 
is twenty-one, made up as follows : 

Five in the front row squatting on the grass, Raymond 
being one of these ; the second from the right. 

Seven in the second row seated upon chairs. 

Nine in the back row standing up against the outside 
of a temporary wooden structure such as might 
be a hospital shed or something of that kind. 

On examining the photograph, we found that every 
peculiarity mentioned by Raymond, unaided by the 
medium, was strikingly correct. The walking-stick is 
there (but Peters had put a stick under his arm, which is 
not correct), and in connexion with the background Feda 
had indicated vertical lines, not only by gesture but 
by sayi&g "lines going down," as well as "a black 
background with lines at the back of them/ 1 There are 
six conspicuous nearly vertical lines on the roof of the 
shed, but the horizontal lines in the background generally 
are equally conspicuous. 

By " a mixed lot," we understood members of different 
Companies not all belonging to Raymond's Company, but 
a collection from several. This must be correct, as they 
are too numerous for one Company. It is probable that 
they all belong to one Regiment, except perhaps one whose 
cap seems to have a thistle badge instead of three feathers. 

As to " prominence," I have a?ked several people 
which member of the group seemed to them the most 
prominent ; and except as regards central position, a well- 
lighted standing figure on the right has usually been 
pointed to as most prominent. This one is " B," as 
stated, namely, Captain S. T. Boast. 

Some of the officers must have been barely known to 
Raymond, while some were his friends. Officers whose 
names begin with B, with C, and with R were among 
them; though not any name beginning with K. The 
nearest approach to a K-sound in the group is one 
beginning with a hard C. 

Some of the group are sitting, while others are standing 
behind. Raymond is one of those sitting on the ground 
in front, and his walking-stick or regulation cane is lying 
across his feet. 


The background is dark, and is conspicuously lined. 

It is out of doors, close in front of a shed or military 
hut, pretty "much as suggested to me by the statements 
made in the ' Leonard ' sitting what I called a 
" shelter." 

But by far the most striking piece of evidence is the 
fact that some one sitting behind Raymond is leaning or 
resting a hand on his shoulder. The photograph fortu- 
nately shows the actual occurrence, and almost indicates 
that Raymond was rather annoyed with it ; for his face 
is a little screwed up, and his head has been slightly bent 
to one side out of the way of the man's arm. It is the only 
case in the photograph where one man is leaning or resting 
his hand on the shoulder of another, and I judge that it is 
a thing not unlikely to be remembered by the one to whom 
it occurred. 


Four days ago (6 December), I was looking through my son 
Raymond's Diary which had been returned with his kit from the 
Front. (The edges are soaked, and some of the leaves stuckf 
together, with his blood.) I was struck by finding an entry 
" Photo taken " under the date 24 August, and I entered the 
fact in my own Diary at once, thus : 

" 6 December. Read Raymond's Diary for first time, saw 
record of ' photo taken ' 24 August." 

(Signed) MARY F. A. LODGE 

10 December 1915 


The dictated letter to Mr. Hill, recording roughly Sir Oliver's 
impression of what the photograph would be like, was written out 
by me on the morning of Tuesday, 7 December, at Mariemont ; it 
was signed by Sir Oliver at about noon, and shortly afterwards 
I started for the University, taking that and other letters with 
me for posting in town. I went straight to the University, and 
at lunch -time (about 1.30) posted the packet to Mr. Hill at the 
General Post Onice. 

(In the packet, I remember, there was also a letter on another 
subject, and a printed document from Mr. Gow, the Editor of 
Light.) (Signed) A. E. BRISCOE, 

Secretary to Sir Oliver Lodge 

8 December 1915 



sitting in the library at Mariemont about 3.45 on Tues- 
day afternoon, 7 December 1915, when Harrison came in witty a 
flat cardboard parcel addressed to Mother. Mother was resting ; 
and as the paper, wrapping up what I took to be the photograph, 
was wet from the rain, I undid it and left the photograph in tissue 
paper on a table, having just glanced at it to see if it was the 
one we'd been waiting for. 

No one saw it or was sHown it till after tea, when I showed it 
to Mother. That would be about 6. Mrs. Thompson, .Lorna, and 
Barbara now also saw it. Honor was not at home and did not 
see it till later. (Signed) R. V. LODGE 

8 December 1915 


In answer to an inquiry, Messrs. Gale & Polden, of 
Aldershot and London, the firm whose name was printed at 
the foot of the photograph, informed me that it was " from 
a negative of a group of Officers sent to us by Captain 
Boast of the 2nd Sotlpi Lancashire Regiment " ; and 
having kindly looked up the date, they further tell me 
that they received the negative from Captain Boast on 
15 October 1915. 

It will be remembered that information about the 
existence of the photograph came through Peters on 
27 September more than a fortnight, therefore, before 
the negative reached England. 

The photograph is only shown here because of its evi- 
dential interest. Considered as a likeness of Raymond, it 
is an exceptionally bad one ; he appears shrunk into an 
uncomfortable position. 


Extract from a letter by Captain Boast from the Trenches, 
dated 7 May 1916, to Mrs. Case, and lent me to see 

" Some months ago (last summer) the Officers of our 

Battalion, had their photo taken You see, the 

photographer who took us was a man who had been 
shelled out of house and home, and as he means of 
doing the photos for us, we bought the negatives, and sent 
them along to be finished in England/' 


A later Letter from Captain Boast 

In answer "to a special inquiry addressed to Captain 
Boast at the Front, he has been good enough to favour me 
with the following letter : 

" 10 July 1916 

" DEAR SIR, Your letter "of 4 July has just reached 
me. The proofs of the photographs referred to were 
received by me from the photographer at Reninghelst 
two or three days after being taken. To the best of my 
belief,- your son saw the proofs, but I cannot now say 
positively. I obtained particulars of requirements from 
the officers forming the group, but the photographer then 
found he was unable to obtain paper for printing. I 
therefore bought the negatives and sent them home to 
Gale & Polden. In view of the fact that your son did 
not go back to the trenches till 12 September 1915, 
it is highly probable that he saw the proofs, but he cer- 
tainly did not see the negatives. Yours faithfully, 

"(Signed) SYDNEY T. BOAST" 

It thus appears that Raymond had probably seen a 
proof of the photograph, but that there were no copies 
or prints available. Consequently neither we, nor 
any other people at home, could have received them; 
and the negatives were only received in England by 
Gale & Polden on 15 October 1915, after Peters had 
mentioned the existence of the photograph, which he did 
on 27 September 1915. 

I obtained from Messrs. Gale & Polden prints of all 
the accessible photographs which had been taken at the 
same time. The size of these prints was 5 by 7 inches. 

I found that the group had been repeated, with slight 
variations, three times the Officers all in the same 
relative positions, but not in identically the same atti- 
tudes. One of the three prints is the same as the one we 
had seen, with some one's hand resting on Raymond's 
shoulder, and Raymond's head leading a little on one side, 
as if rather annoyed. In another the hand iad been 
removed, being supported by the owner's stick ; and in 
that one Raymond's head is upright. This corresponds 


to his uncertainty as to whether he was actually taken 
with the man leaning on him or not. In the third, how- 
ever, ttife sitting officer's leg rests 'against Raymond's 
shoulder as he squats in front, and the slant of the head 
and slight look of annoyance have returned. 

These two additional photographs are here reproduced. 
Their merit is in showing that the leaning on him, men- 
tioned by ' Raymond ' through Feda, was well marked, 
and yet that he was quite right in being uncertain whether 
he was actually being leant on while the photograph was 
being taken. The fact turns out to be that during two 
exposures he was being leaned on, and during one ex- 
posure he was not. It was, so to speak, lucky that the 
edition sent us happened to show in one form the actual 

I have since discovered what is apparently the only 
other photograph of Officers in which Raymond occurs, 
but it is quite a different one, and none of the description 
applies to it. For it is completely in the open air, and 
Raymond is standing up in the hinder of two rows. He is 
second from the left, the tall one in the middle is his friend 
Lieutenant Case, and standing next him is Mr. Ventris 
(see p. 279). It is fortunate again that this photograph 
did not happen to be the one sent us ; for we should have 
Considered the description hopelessly wrong. 


* As to the evidential value of the whole communication, 
it will be observed that there is something of the nature 
of cross-correspondence, of a simple kind, in the fact that 
a reference to the photograph was made through one 
medium, and a description given, in answer to a question, 
through another independent one. 

The episode is to be published in the Proceedings of the 
S.P.R. for 1916, and a lew further facts or comments are 
there added. 

The elimination of ordinary telepathy from the living, 
exdept under the far-fetched hypothesis of the unconscious 
influence of complete strangers, was exceptionally com- 



to his uncertainty as to whether he was actually taken 
with the man leaning on him or not. In the third, how- 
ever, the sitting officer's leg rests 'against Raymond's 
shoulder as he squats in front, and the slant of the head 
and slight look of annoyance have returned. 

These two additional photographs are here reproduced. 
Their merit is in showing that the leaning on him, men- 
tioned by ' Raymond ' through Feda, was well marked, 
and yet that he was quite right in being uncertain whether 
he was actually being leant on while the photograph was 
being taken. The fact turns out to be that during two 
exposures he was being leaned on, and during one ex- 
posure he was not. It was, so to speak, lucky that the 
edition sent us happened to show in one form the actual 

I have since discovered what is apparently the only 
other photograph of Officers in which Raymond occurs, 
but it is quite a different one, and none of the description 
Applies to it. For it is completely in the open air, and 
Raymond is standing up in the hinder of two rows. He is 
second from the left, the tall one in the middle is his friend 
Lieutenant Case, and standing next him is Mr. Ventris 
(see p. 279). It is fortunate again that this photograph 
did not happen to be the one sent us ; for we should have 
considered the description hopelessly wrong. 


* As to the evidential value of the whole communication, 
it will be observed that there is something of the nature 
of cross-correspondence, of a simple kind, in the fact that 
a Reference to the photograph was made through one 
medium, and a description given, in answer to a question, 
through another independent one. 

The episode is to be published in the Proceedings of the 
S.P.R. for 1916, and a few further facts or comments are 
there added. 

Jhe elimination of ordinary telepathy from the -living, 
exdfept under the far-fetched hypothesis of the unconscious 
influence of complete strangers, was exceptionally com- 






H Q 

O < 

ffi W 

a, h 





plete; inasmuch as the whole of the information was 
recorded before any of us had seen the photograph. 

Even the establishment of a date in August for the 
taking of the photograph, as mentioned first in Mrs. 
Cheves' letter and confirmed by finding an entry in Ray- 
mond's Diary, is important, because the last time we ever 
saw Raymond was in July. 

To my mind the whole incident is rather exceptionally 
good as a piece of evidence ; and that ' Raymond ' ex- 
pected it to be good evidence is plain from Peters's (' Moon- 
stone's ') statement, at that first reference to a photograph 
on 27 September, namely, " He is particular that I should 
tell you of this." (This sentence it probably was which 
made me look out for such a photograph, and take pains 
to get records soundly made beforehand.) Our complete 
ignorance, even of the existence of the photograph, in the 
first place, and secondly the delayed manner in which 
knowledge of it normally came to 'us, so that we were able 
to make provision for getting the supernormally acquired 
details definitely noted beforehand, seem to me to make 
it a first-class case. While, as to the amount of coincidence 
between the description and the actual photograph, that 
surely is quite beyond chance or guesswork. For not only 
are many things right, but practically nothing is wrong. 


2O/w/yi9i5 . . . Raymond's last visit home. 

24 August 1915 . , Photograph taken at the Front, as 

shown by entry in Raymond's 

private Diary, but not mentioned 

by him. 

14 September 1915 . . Raymond's death. 
27 September 1915 . . Peters' ('Moonstone's ') mention of 

the photograph as a message from 

15 October 1915 . . Negative sent with other negatives 

by Capt. Sydney T. Boast, from 
the Front in Flanders, to Messrs. 
Gale & Polden, Aldershot, for 

29 November 1915 . . Mrs. Cheves wrote spontaneously, 

saying that she had a group- 
photograph of some 2nd South 
Lancashire Officers, which she 
could send if desired. 


3 December 1915 

6 December 1915 

Morning 0/7 Dec. 1915 

Afternoon 0/7 Dec. 1915 
Evening of 7 Dec. 1915 


Feda's (Mrs. Leonard's) further de- 
scription of a photograph which 
had been mentioned through an- 
other medium, in answer to a 
direct question addressed to ' Ray- 
mond. 1 

M. F. A. L. found an entry in Ray- 
mond's Diary showing that a 
photograph had been taken on 
24 August. 

To make sure, O. J. L. wrote to 
J. A. H. his impression of the 
photograph before it came. 

Arrival of the photograph. 

The photograph was shown to the 
home members of the family, and 
examined by O. J. L. 



ALTHOUGH this episode of the photograph is a 
good and evidential one, I should be sorry to base 
an important conclusion on any one piece of evi- 
dence, however cogent. All proofs are really cumulative ; 
and though it is legitimate to emphasise anything like a 
crucial instance, it always needs supplementing by many 
others, lest there may have been some oversight. Accord- 
ingly, I now proceed to quote from sittings held by 
members of the family after Raymond's death laying 
stress upon those which were arranged for, and held 
throughout, in an anonymous manner, so that there was 
not the slightest normal clue to identity. 

The first message came to us through a recent friend 
of ours in London, Mrs. Kennedy, who herself has the 
power of automatic writing, and who, having lost her 
specially beloved son Paul, has had her hand frequently 
controlled by him usually only so as to give affectionate 
messages, but sometimes in a moderately evidential way. 
She had been sceptical about the genuineness of this power 
apparently possessed by herself ; and it was her painful 
uncertainty on this point that had brought her into 
correspondence with me, for she was trying to test her own 
writing in various ways, as she was so anxious not to be 
deceived. The first I ever heard of her was the following 
letter which came while I was in Australia, and was dealt 
with by Mr. Hill : 


! 16 August 1914 

" DEAR SIR, Because of your investigations into spirit life, 
I venture to ask your help. 



H My only son died 23 June, eight weeks after a terrible 
accident. On 25 June (without my asking for it or having 
thought of it) I felt obliged to hold a pencil, and 1 received in 
automatic writing his name and ! yes ' and J no ' in answer to 

!! Since then I have had several pages of writing from him 
every day and sometimes twice daily. 1 say ? from him ' ; the whole 
torturing question is is it from him or am I self-deceived ? 

f My knowledge is infinitesimal. Nineteen years ago a sister 
who had died the year before suddenly used my hand, and after 
that wrote short messages at intervals ; another sister a year 
later, and my father one message sixteen years ago ; but I felt so 
self-deceived that I always pushed it aside, until it came back 
to me, unasked, after my son's passing over. 

!S Your knowledge is what I appeal to, and the deep, personal 
respect one has for you and your investigations. It is for my 
son's sake he is only seventeen and he writes with such intense 
sadness of my lack of decided belief that I venture to beg help 
of a stranger in a matter so sacred to me. 

li Do you ever come to London, and, if so, could you possibly 
allow me to see you for even half an hour ? and you might judge 
from the strange and holy revelations (I know no other way to 
express many of the messages that are sent) whether they can 
possibly be only from my own subconscious mind. . . . Pardon 
this length of letter. Yours faithfully, 


Ultimately I was able to take her anonymously and 
unexpectedly to an American medium, Mrs. Wriedt, and 
there she received strong and unmistakable proofs. 1 She 
also received excellent confirmation through several 
other mediums whom she had discovered for herself 
notably Mr. Vout Peters and Mrs. Osborne Leonard. 
Of Mrs. Leonard I had not previously heard ; I had 
heard of a Madame St. Leonard, or some name like that, 
but this is somebody else. Mrs. Kennedy tells me 
that she herself had not known Mrs. Leonard long, 
her own first sitting with that lady having been on 
14 September 1915. I must emphasise the fact that 
Mrs. Kennedy is keen and careful about evidential con- 

As Mrs. Kennedy's son Paul plays a part in what 

1 1 think it only fair to mention the names of professional mediums, 
if I find them at all genuine. I do not guarantee their efficiency, for 
mediumship is not a power that can always be depended on, it is liable 
to vary ; sitters also may be incompetent, and conditions may be bad. 
The circumstances under which sensitives work are difficult at the 
present time and ought to be improved. 


follows, perhaps it is permissible to quote here a descrip- 
tion of him which she gave to Mr. Hill in October 1914, 
accompanying an expression of surprise at the serious 
messages which she sometimes received from him inter- 
spersed with his fun and his affection : 


11 Picture to yourself this boy : not quite eighteen but always 
taken for twenty or twenty-two ; an almost divine character 
underneath, but exteriorly a typical ' motor knut,' driving racing- 
cars at Brooklands, riding for the Jarrott Cup on a motor cycle, 
and flying at Hendon as an Air Mechanic ; dining out perpetually, 
because of his charm which made him almost besieged by friends ; 
and apparently without any creed except honour, generosity, 
love of children, the bringing home of every stray cat to be fed 
here and comforted, a total disregard of social distinctions when 
choosing his friends, and a hatred of hurting anyone's feelings." 

On seeing the announcement of Mr. R. Lodge's death 
in a newspaper, Mrs. Kennedy ' spoke ' to Paul about it, 
and asked him to help ; she also asked for a special sitting 
with Mrs. Leonard for the same purpose, though without 
saying why. The name Raymond was on that occasion 
spelt out through the medium, and he was said to be 
sleeping. This was on 18 September. On the 2ist, 
while Mrs. Kennedy was writing in her garden on ordinary 
affairs, her own hand suddenly wrote, as from her son 
Paul : 

" I am here. ... I have seen that boy Sir Oliver's 
son ; he's better, and has had a splendid rest, tell 
his people/' 

Lady Lodge having been told about Mrs. Leonard, 
and wanting to help a widowed French lady, Madame Le 
Breton, who had lost both her sons, and was on a visit to 
England, asked Mrs. Kennedy to arrange a sitting, so as 
to avoid giving any name. A sitting was accordingly 
arranged with Mrs. Leonard for 24 September 1915. 

On 22 September, Mrs. Kennedy, while having what 
she called a 'talk' with Paul, suddenly wrote auto- 
matically : 

" I shall bring Raymond to his father when he comes 
to see you. . . . He is so jolly, every one loves him ; 


he has found heaps of his own folks here, and he is 
settling down wonderfully. Do TELL HIS FATHER 
AND MOTHER. ... He spoke clearly to-day. . . . 
He doesn't fight like the others, he seems so settled 
already. It is a ripping thing to see one boy like 
this. He has been sleeping a long time, but he has 
spoken to-day. . . . 

" If you people only knew how we long to come, they 
would all call us/' 

[Capitals indicate large and emphatic writing.] 

On the 23rd, during Lady Lodge's call, Mrs. Kennedy's 
hand wrote what purported to be a brief message from 
Raymond, thus : 

" I am here, mother. . . . I have been to Alec already, 
but he can't hear me. I do wish he would believe 
that we are here safe ; it isn't a dismal hole like 
people think, it is a place where there is life." 

And again : 

" Wait till I have learned better how to speak like 
this. . . . We can express all we want later ; give 
me time." 

I need hardly say that there is nothing in the least 
evidential in all this. I quote it only for the sake of 
reasonable completeness, so as to give the history from the 
beginning. Evidence comes later. 

Next day, 24 September 1915, the ladies went for an 
interview with Mrs. Leonard, who knew no more than that 
friends of Mrs. Kennedy would accompany her. The 
following is Lady Lodge's account of the sitting : 7 

First Sitting of any Member of the Family (Anonymous) 
with Mrs. Leonard ' 

24 SEPTEMBER 1915 

Mrs. Leonard went into a sort of trance, I suppose, and came 
back as a little Indian girl called f Freda/ or ' Feda,' rubbing her 
hands, and talking in the silly way they do. 

However, she soon said there was an old gentleman and a 
young one present, whom she described ; and Mrs. Kennedy told 


me afterwards that they were her father and her son Paul. There 
seemed to be many others standing beside us, so ! Feda ' said. 

Then Feda described some one brought in lying down about 
twenty-four or twenty-five, not yet able to sit up ; the features 
she described might quite well have belonged to Raymond. (I 
forgot to say Mrs. Leonard did not know me or my name, or 
Madame Le Breton's.) Feda soon said she saw a large R beside 
this young man, then an A, then she got a long letter with a tail, 
which she could not make out, then she drew an M in the air, 
but forgot to mention it, and she said an O came next, and she 
said there was another O with a long stroke to it, and finally, she 
said she heard Yaymond ' (which is only her way of pronouncing 
it). [The name was presumably got from - Paul.' O, J. L.] Then 
she said that he just seemed to open his eyes and smile ; and then 
he had a choking feeling, which distressed me very much ; but 
he said he hadn't suffered much not nearly as much as I should 
think ; whether he said this, or Paul, I forget ; but Paul asked 
me not to tell him to-morrow night that I was not with him, as he 
had so much the feeling that I was with him when he died, that 
he (Paul) wouldn't like to undeceive him. 

I then asked that some one in that other world might kiss 
him for me, and a lady, whom they described in a way which was 
just like my mother, came and kissed him, and said she was 
taking care of him. And there was also an old gentleman, full 
white beard, etc. (evidently my stepfather, but Feda said with a 
moustache, which was a mistake), with W. up beside him, also 
taking care ; said he had met Raymond, and he was looking after 
him, and lots of others too ; but said he [W.] belonged to me and 
to ' O.' [Correct.] I asked how and what it was he had done 
for me, and Feda made a movement with her fingers, as though 
disentangling something, and then putting it into straight lines. 
He then said he had made tilings easier for me. So I said that 
was right, and thanked him gratefully. I said also that if Ray- 
mond was in his and Mama's hands, I was satisfied. 

[I do not append the notes of this sitting, since it was 
held mainly for Madame and her two sons, both of whom 
were described, and from whom some messages appeared 
to come.] 

Table Sitting at Mrs. Leonard's 

Next day (Saturday, 25 September 1915), as arranged 
partly by Paul, the three ladies went to Mrs. Leonard's 
house again for a sitting with a table, and Dr. Kennedy 
kindly accompanied them to take notes. 

The three ladies and the medium sat round a small 
table, with their hands lightly on it, and it tilted in the 
usual way. The plan adopted here is for the table to tilt 


as each letter of the alphabet is spoken by the medium, 
and to stop, or ' hold/ when a right letter is reached. 
For general remarks on the rationale, or what most people 
will naturally consider the absurdity, of intelligent move- 
ments of this kind, see Chapter XIV, Part III. 

It was a rather complicated sitting, as it was mainly 
for Madame who was a novice in the sub j ect . Towards the 
end unfortunately, though momentarily and not at all 
pronouncedly, she spoke to Lady Lodge by name. At 
these table sittings the medium, Mrs. Leonard, is not un- 
conscious ; accordingly she heard it in her normal self, and 
afterwards said that she had heard it. The following 
extracts from the early part of the sitting may be 
quoted here, as answers purporting to be spelt out by 
Raymond : 


Are you lonely ? No. 

Who is with you ? Grandfather W. 

Have you anything to say to You know I can't help missing 

me ? you, but I am learning to be 

Have you any message for any Tell them I have many good 

of them ? friends. 

Can you tell me the name of any- Honor. [One of his sisters,] 

one at home ? 

(Other messages of affection and naturalness.) 

Have I enough to satisfy them No. 

at home ? 
Is there anything you want to Tell father I have met some 

send ? friends of his. 

Any name ? Yes ; Myers. 

Have you anything else to say? (No answer.) 
Is some one else there ? Yes ; Guy. (This was a son of 

Madame, and the sitting be- 
came French,) 

Reasonable and natural messages were spelt out in 
French. The other son of Madame was named Didier, 
and an unsuccessful attempt to spell this name was made, 
but the only result was DODI. 


Automatic Writing by Mrs. Kennedy, 26 September 

On 26 September Mrs. Kennedy (alone) had a lot of 
automatic writing, with her own hand, mainly from Paul, 
who presently wrote, " Mother, I have been let to bring 
Raymond/ 1 

(After a welcome, Raymond was represented as sending 
this message : ) 

" I can speak easier than I could at the table, because 
you are helping all the time. It is easy when we are alone 
with you, but if I go there it confuses me a little. ... I 
long to comfort them. Will you tell them that Raymond 
had been to you, and that Paul tells me I can come to you 
whenever I like ? It is so good of you to let the boys all 
come. ..." 

" Paul tells me he has been here since he was seventeen ; 
he is a jolly chap ; every one seems fond of him. I don't 
wonder, for he helps every one. It seems a rule to call Paul 
if you get in a fix." 

(Then Paul said he was back, and wrote : ) 

" He is quite happy really since he finds he can get to 
his people. He has slept ever since last night, till I was 
told to fetch him to-night." 

(Asked about the French boys, Paul said : ) 

" I saw them when I brought them, but I don't see 
them otherwise ; they are older than I am . . . they hardly 
believe it yet that they have spoken. All the time they 
felt it was impossible, and they nearly gave it up, but I 
kept on begging them to tell their mother they lived." 

" I do hope she felt it true, mother. . . .' 

" It is hard to think your sons are dead ; but such a lot 
of people do think it. It is revolting to hear the boys tell 
you how no one speaks to-'them ever ; it hurts me through 
and through." 

(Interval. Paul fetched Guy [one of Madame Le 
Breton's sons], saying : ) 

" I can't stand it when they call out for help. Speak 
to him please, mother." 

(Mrs. Kennedy spoke to Guy, saying that she felt he 
could not believe any of it, but would he give time and 
trouble to studying the subject as she was doing ? The 
following writing came : ) 


GUY.- -I think you hear me because it is just as I am feel- 
ing ; how CAN I believe we can speak to you who 
live where we once lived ? It was not possible then 
for us to speak to dead people ; and why should it 
be possible for us to speak. Will you keep on helping 
me, please, for I can't follow it, and I long to ? 
(Mrs. Kennedy asked him to ask Paul, that being an 
easier method, probably, than getting information through 
her. She asked him to ' excuse ' Paul's youth.) 
GUY. I like Paul ; he is good to us. I shall be glad to talk 
to him constantly if he has time for all of us ; he 
seems a sort of messenger between us and you, 
isn't he ? 

[Guy had been to school in England, his brother 
had not.] 


ON 27 September, as already stated in Chapter III, 
I myself visited Mrs. Leonard, going anonymously 
and alone, and giving no information beyond the 
fact that I was a friend of Mrs. Kennedy. I lay no stress 
on my anonymity, however. 

In a short time Feda controlled, and at first described 
an elderly gentleman as present. Then she said he brought 
some one with the letter R ; and as I took verbatim notes 
I propose to reproduce this portion in full, so as to give 
the general flavour of a ' Feda ' sitting ; only omitting 
what has already been extracted and quoted in Chapter 

0. f. L. at Mrs. Leonard's, Monday, 27 September 1915, 
12 noon to i o'clock 

(Mrs. Leonard's control ! Feda ' speaking all the time.) 

There is some one here with a little difficulty ; not fully 
built up ; youngish looking ; form more like an outline ; 
he has not completely learnt how to build up as yet. Is a 
young man, rather above the medium height ; rather well- 
built, not thick-set or heavy, but well-built. He holds him- 
self up well. He has not been over long. His hair is be- 
tween colours. He is not easy to describe, because he is not 
building himself up so solid as some do. He has greyish 
eyes ; hair brown, short at the sides ; a fine-shaped head ; 
eyebrows also brown, not much arched ; nice-shaped nose, 
fairly straight, broader at the nostrils a little ; a nice- 
shaped mouth, a good-sized mouth it is, but it does not 
look large because he holds the lips nicely together ; chin 
not heavy ; face oval. He is not built up quite clearly, 


but it feels as if Feda knew him. He must have been here 
waiting for you. Now he looks at Feda and smiles ; now 
he laughs, he is having a joke with Feda, and Paulie laughs 
too. Paul says he has been here before, and that Paul 
brought him. But Feda sees many hundreds of people, 
but they tell me this one has been brought quite lately. 
Yes, I have seen him before. Feda remembers a letter 
with him too. R, that is to do with him. 

(Then Feda murmured, as if to herself, " Try and 
give me another letter/*) (Pause.) 

It is a funny name, not Robert or Richard. He is not 
giving the rest of it, but says R again ; it is from him. 
He wants to know where his mother is ; he is looking for 
her ; he does not understand why she is not here. 
o. j. L. Tell him he will see her this afternoon, and that 
she is not here this morning, because she wants to 
meet him this afternoon at three o'clock. 

[Meaning through another medium, namely 

Peters. But that, of course, was not said.] 
He has been to see you before, and he says that 
once he thought you knew he was there, and that 
two or three times he was not quite sure. Feda 
gets it mostly by impression ; it is not always 
what he says, but what she gets ; but Feda 
says "he says," because she gets it from him 
somehow. 1 He finds it difficult, he says, but he 
has got so many kind friends helping him. He 
didn't think when he waked up first that he was 
going to be happy, but now he is, and he says he is 
going to be happier. He knows that as soon as he 
is a little more ready, he has got a great deal of 
work to do. " I almost wonder/' he says, " shall 
I be fit and able to do it. They tell me I shall." 
[And so on as reported in Chapter III.] 
He seems to know what the work is. The first 
work he will have to do, will be helping at the 
Front ; not the wounded so much, but helping 
those who are passing over in the war. He knows 
that when they pass on and wake up, they still 
feel a certain fear and some other word which 
Feda missed. Feda hears a something and 

1 Note this, as an elucidatory statement. 


' fear/ Some even go on fighting ; at least they 

want to ; they don't believe they have passed on. 

So that many are wanted where he is now, to 

explain to them and help them, and soothe them. 

They do not know where they are, nor why they are 


[I considered that this was ordinary ' Feda talk/ 
such as it is probably customary to get 
through mediums at this time ; therefore, 
though the statements are likely enough, 
there is nothing new in them, and I thought 
it better to interrupt by asking a question. 
So I said : ] 
O. j. L. Does he want to send a message to anyone at 

home ? Or will he give the name of one of his 

instructors ? 

[I admit that it is stupid thus to ask two 
questions at once.] 

He shows me a capital H, and says that is not 
an instructor, it is some one he knows on the earth 
side. He wants them to be sure that he is all right 
and happy. He says, " People think I say I am 
happy in order to make them happier, but I don't. 

[And so on as already reported in Chapter ///.] 

Now the first gentleman with the letter W is 
going over to him and putting his arm round his 
shoulder, and he is putting his arm round the 
gentleman's back. Feda feels like a string round 
her head ; a tight feeling in the head, and also an 
empty sort of feeling in the chest, empty, as if sort 
of something gone. A feeling like a sort of vacant 
feeling there ; also a bursting sensation in the 
head. But he does not know he is giving this. 
He has not done it on purpose, they have tried to 
make him forget all that, but Feda gets it from him. 
There is a noise with it too, an awful noise and a 
rushing noise. 

He has lost all that now, but he does not seem 
to know why Feda feels it now. " I feel splendid," 
he says, " I feel splendid ! But I was worried at 
first. I was worried, for I was wanting to make it 


clear to those left behind that I was all right, and 
that they were not to worry about me." 

You may think it strange, but he felt that you 
would not worry so much as some one else ; two 
others, two ladies, Feda thinks. You would know, 
he says, but two ladies would worry and be un- 
certain ; but now he believes they know more. 
Then, before Mrs. Leonard came out of trance, came the 
description of a falling dark cross which twisted round 
and became bright, as reported in Chapter III. 

After the sitting, and before I went away, I asked Mrs. 
Leonard if she knew who I was. She replied, " Are you 
by chance connected with those two ladies who came on 
Saturday night ? " On my assenting, Mrs. Leonard added, 
" Oh ! then I know, because the French lady gave the 
name away ; she said ' Lady Lodge ' in the middle of a 
French sentence." 

I also spoke to her about not having too many sittings 
and straining her power. She said she " preferred not to 
have more than two or three a day, though sometimes she 
could not avoid it ; and some days she had to take a 
complete rest/ 1 But she admitted that she was going to 
have another one that day at two o'clock. I told her that 
three per day was rather much. She pleaded that there 
are so many people who want help now, that she declined 
all those who came for only commercial or fortune-telling 
motives, but that she felt bound to help those who are 
distressed by the war. I report this to show that she saw 
many people totally disconnected with Raymond or his 
family : so that what she might say to a new unknown 
member of the family could be quite evidential. 


MRS. KENNEDY desired Lady Lodge to try with a 
different arid independent medium, and therefore 
kindly arranged with Mr. A. Vout Peters to come 
to her house on Monday afternoon and give a trance 
sitting to ' a friend of hers ' not specified. Accordingly, 
at or about 3 p.m. on Monday, 27 September 1915, Lady 
Lodge went by herself to Mrs. Kennedy's house, so as not 
to have to give any name, and awaited the arrival of 
Peters, who, when he came, said he would prefer to sit in 
Mrs. Kennedy's own room in which he had sat before, and 
which he associated with her son Paul. No kind of intro- 
duction was made, and Peters was a total stranger to 
Lady Lodge ; though to Mrs. Kennedy he was fairly well 
known, having several times given her first-rate evidence 
about her son, who had proved his identity in several 
striking ways. 

When Peters goes into a trance his personality is 
supposed to change to that of another man, who, we 
understand, is called ' Moonstone ' ; much as Mrs. Piper 
was controlled by apparent personalities calling them- 
selves ' Phinuit ' or ' Rector/ When Peters does not 
go into a trance he has some clairvoyant faculty of his 

The only other person present on this occasion was 
Mrs. Kennedy, who kindly took notes. 

This is an important sitting, as it was held for a 
complete stranger, so I propose to report it practically 
in full. 


M. F. A. L. Sitting with A. Vout Peters, in Mrs. Kennedy's 
House, on 27 September 1915, at 3.30 p.m. 


SITTER .... Lady LODGE (M. F. A. L.). 


The record consists of Mrs. Kennedy's notes. Annotations in square 
brackets have been added subsequently by 0. /. L. 

While only partially under control, Peters said : 
" I feel a lot of force here, Mrs. Kennedy/' 

Peters was controlled quickly by ' Moonstone/ who 
greeted K. K. and reminded her of a prophecy of his. 
(This prophecy related to the Russian place Dvinsk, and 
to the important actions likely to be going on there as 
if the decisive battle of the war was to be fought there.) 
Then he turned to L. L. and said : 

What a useful life you have led, and will lead. 

You have always been the prop of things. 

You have always been associated with men a lot. 

You are the mother and house prop. 

You are not unacquainted with spiritualism. 

You have been associated with it more or less for some 


I sense you as living away from London in the North 

or North- West. 

You are much associated with men, and you are the 

house prop the mother. You have no word in the 

language that quite gives it there are always four 

walls, but something more is needed you are the house 


You have had a tremendous lot of sadness recently, 

from a death that has come suddenly. 

You never thought it was to be like this. (Peters 

went on talking glibly, and there was no need for the 

sitter to say anything.) 

There is a gentleman here who is on the other side he 

went very suddenly. Fairly tall, rather broad, upright 

(here the medium sat up very straight and squared 

his shoulders) rather long face, fairly long nose, lips 

full, moustache, nice teeth, quick and active, strong 


sense of humour he could always laugh, keen sense 

of affection. 

He went over into the spirit world very quickly. 

There is no idea of death because it was so sudden, 

with no illness. 

Do you know anything connected with the letter L ? 

(No answer was given to this.) 

What I am going to say now is from Paul he says : 

"Tell mother it is not one L, it is double L." He 

says: "Tell mother she always loved a riddle " 

he laughs. 

(L. L. and K. K. both said they could not understand. 1 

' Moonstone ' continued : ) 

They don't want to make it too easy for you, and 

funnily enough, the easier it seems to you sometimes 

the more difficult it seems to them. 

This man is a soldier an officer. He went over 

where it is warm. 

You are his mother, aren't you and he does not call 

you ma, or mama, or mater just mother, mother. 


He is reticent and yet he told you a tremendous lot. 

You were not only his mother but his friend. 

Wasn't he clever with books ? He laughs and says : 

" Anyhow I ought to be, I was brought up with them/' 

He was not altogether a booky person. 

He knew of spiritualism before he passed over, but 

he was a little bit sceptical he had an attitude of 

carefulness about it. He tells me to tell you this : 

The attitude of Mr. Stead and some of those people 

turned him aside ; on one side there was too much 

credulity on the other side too much piffling at trifles. 

[See also Appendix to this sitting.] 

He holds up in his hand a little heap of olives, as a 

symbol for you then he laughs. Now he says for a 

test Associated with the olives is the word Roland. 8 

All of this is to give you proof that he is here. 

1 Though K, K.'s record, being made at the time, reads L. L. 
(meaning Lady Lodge) throughout. When she speaks, later on, I 
change the L. L. oi the record to her proper initials to avoid con- 
fusion. O. J. L. 

2 This is clear, though apparently it was not so recognised at the 
time. See later, pp. 135 and 144. 


Before you came you were very down in the dumps. 

Was he ill three weeks after he was hurt ? [More 

like three hours, probably less.] 

(Various other guesses were made for the meaning of 3.) 

I see the figure 3 so plainly can't you find a meaning 

for it ? 

(L. L. suggested 3rd Battalion, and ' Moonstone ' 

continued : ) 

He says " Yes " and wasn't he officially put down on 

another one ? [Perfectly true, he was attached to 

the 2nd Battalion at the Front, to the 3rd or reserve 

Battalion while training.] l 

He says : " Don't forget to tell father all this." 

His home is associated with books both reading and 

writing books. Wait a minute, he wants to give me a 

word, he is a little impatient with me. Manuscripts, 

he says, manuscripts that's the word. 

He sends a message, and he says this is more for 

father " It is no good his attempting to come to the 

medium here, he will simply frighten the medium for 

all he is worth, and he will not get anything. But he 

is not afraid of you, and if *here is communication 

wanted with this man again, vou must come." 

You have several portraits of this boy. Before he 

went away you had got a good portrait of him 2 

no, 3. [Fully as many as that.] 

Two where he is alone and one where he is in a group 

of other men. [This last is not yet verified.] * 

He is particular that I should tell you of this. In one 

you see his walking-stick (' Moonstone ' here put an 

imaginary stick under his arm). [Not known yet.] 

He had particularly strong hands. 

When he was younger, he was very strongly associated 

with football and outdoor sports. You have in your 

house prizes that he won, I can't tell you what. 

[Incorrect ; possibly some confusion in record here ; or 

else wrong.] 

Why should I get two words ' Small ' and ' Heath/ 

1 Let it be understood, once for all, that remarks in square brackets 
represent nothing said at the time, but are comments afterwards by me 
when I read the record. O. J. L. 

* The photograph episode is described above, in Chapter IV, in the 
light of later information. 


[Small Heath is a place near Birmingham with which 

he had some but not close associations, j 

Also I see, but very dimly as in a mist, the letters 

B I R. [Probably Birmingham.] 

You heard of either his death or of his being hurt by 


He didn't die at once. He had three wounds. 

I don't think you have got details yet. [No, not 


If he had lived he would have made a name for him- 
self in his own particular line. 

Was he not associated with chemistry ? If not, 

some one associated with him was, because I see all 

the things in a chemical laboratory. 

[The next portion has already been reported in 
Chapter 111, but I do not omit it from its context 

That chemistry thing takes me away from him to a 

man in the flesh. 

And connected with him a man, a writer of poetry, on 

our side, closely connected with spiritualism. 

He was very clever he too passed away out of 


He has communicated several times. 

This gentleman who wrote poetry I see the letter 

M he is helping your son to communicate. 

He is built up in the chemical conditions. 

If your son didn't know this man, he knew of him. 

At the back of the gentleman beginning with M and 

who wrote poetry is a whole group of people. 

They are very interested. And don't be surprised if 

you get messages from them, even if you don't know 


This is so important that is going to be said now, that I 

want to go slowly, for you to write clearly every word 

(dictates carefully). 
" Not only is the partition so thin that you can hear 

the operators on the other side, but a big hole has 

been made." 

This message is for the gentleman associated with the 

chemical laboratory. 

The boy I call them all boys, because I was over a 


hundred when I lived here and they are all boys to 
me he says, he is here, but he says : " Hitherto it 
has been a thing of the head, now I am come over it 
is a thing of the heart. What is more (here Peters 
jumped up in his chair vigorously, snapped his fingers 
excitedly, and spoke loudly) : 

" Good God 1 how father will be able to speak out ! 
much firmer than he has ever done, because it will 
touch our hearts." 
M. F. A. L. Does he want his father to speak out ? 

Yes, but not yet wait, the evidence will be 
given in such a way that it cannot be contradicted, 
and his name is big enough to sweep all stupid 
opposition on one side. 

I was not conscious of much suffering, and I am 
glad that I settled my affairs before I went. 

[He did ; he made a will just before leaving 
England, and left things in good order. He 
also cleared up things when he joined the 

Have you a sister of his with you, and one on 
our side ? A little child almost, so little that you 
never associated her with him. 

There are two sisters, one on each side of him, 
one in the dark and one in the light. 

[Raymond was the only boy sandwiched in 
between two sisters ; Violet older than he, 
and still living (presumably in the dark), 
and Laura 1 younger than he, died a few 
minutes after birth (in the light). Ray- 
mond was the youngest boy, and had thus a 
sister on either side of him.] 
Your girl is standing on one side, Paul on the 
other, and your boy in the centre. (Here ' Moon- 
stone ' put his arm round K. K.'s shoulder to show 
how the boy was standing.) Now he stoops over 
you and kisses you there (indicating the brow). 

Before he went away he came home for a little 
while. Didn't he come for three days ? 

(There is a little unimportant confusion in the 
record about ' days/) 

1 Now apparently called Lily 9 see latei. 


Then, with evident intention of trying to give a ' test/ 
some trivial but characteristic features were mentioned 
about the interior of three houses the one we are in now. 
the one we had last occupied at Liverpool, and the one he 
called ' Mother's home/ But there is again some con- 
fusion in the record, partly because M. F. A. L. didn't under- 
stand what he was driving at, partly because the recorder 
found it difficult to follow ; and though the confusion was 
subsequently disentangled through another medium next 
day, 28 September, it is hardly worth while to give as 
much explanation as would be needed to make the points 
clear. So this part is omitted. (See p. 145.) 

And he wanted me to tell you of a kiss on the 

M. F. A. L. He did not kiss me on the forehead when he 
said good-bye. 

Well he is taller than you, isn't he ? 

Not very demonstrative before strangers. But 
when alone with you, like a little boy again. 
M. F. A. L. I don't think he was undemonstrative before 

Oh yes, all you English are like that. You lock 
up your affection, and you sometimes lose the key. 
He laughs. He says you didn't understand 
about Rowland. He can get it through now, it's a 
Roland for your Oliver [p. 131]. 

[Excellent. By recent marriages the family 
has gained a Rowland (son-in-law) and lost 
(so to speak) an Oliver (son).J 
He is going. He gives his love to all. 
It has been easy for him to come for two 
reasons : First, because you came to get help for 
Madame. 1 Secondly, because he had the knowledge 
in this life. 
M. F. A. L. I hope it has been a pleasure to him to come ? 

Not a pleasure, a joy. 

M. F. A. L. I hope he will come to me again. 
As much as he can. 
Paul now wants to speak to his mother. 

1 This is curious, because it was with Mrs. Leonard that Madam 
had sat, not with Peters at all. It is a simple cross-correspondence. 


Appendix to First Peters Sitting 


Mrs. Rowland Waterhonse has recently found among her 
papers an old letter from Bedales School which she received 
from her brother Raymond when she was in Paris during the 
winter 1905-1906. The concluding part of it is of some small 
interest in the light of later developments : 

" I should like to hear more about table turning. I don't 
believe in it. The girls here say they have done it at Steephurst, 
and they attribute it to some sense of which we know nothing, 
and which I want to turn to some account, driving a dynamo or 
something, if it is possible, as they make out, to cause a table to 
revolve without any exertion I am your affectionate brother, 



ON 28 September my wife and I together had 
a table sitting with Mrs. Leonard, which may be 
reported nearly in full together with my preliminary 
note written immediately afterwards. This is done not 
because it is a particularly good specimen, but because 
these early sittings have an importance of their own, and 
because it may be instructive to others to see the general 
manner of a table sitting. It was, I 1hink, the first joint- 
sitting of any kind which we had had since the old Piper 


A table sitting is not good for conversation, but it is 
useful for getting definite brief answers such as names 
and incidents, since it seems to be less interfered with by 
the mental activity of an intervening medium, and to be 
rather more direct. But it has difficulties of its own. 
The tilting of the table need not be regarded as a * physical 
phenomenon ' in the technical or supernormal sense, yet 
it does not appear to be done by the muscles of those 
present. The effort required to tilt the table is slight, and 
evidentially it must, no doubt, be assumed that so far as 
mechanical force is concerned, it is exerted by muscular 
action. But my imprassion is that the tilting is an in- 
cipient physical phenomenon, and that though the energy, 
of course, comes from the people present, it does not 
appear to be applied in quite a normal way (XIV, Pt. III). 

As regards evidence, however, the issue must be 
limited to intelligent direction of the energy. All that 
can safely be claimed is that the energy is intelligently 


directed, and the self -stoppage of the table at the right 
letter conveys by touch a sort* of withholding feeling 
a kind of sensation as of inhibition to those whose hands 
lie flat on the top of the table. The light was always 
quite sufficient to see all the hands, and it works quite 
well in full daylight. The usual method is for the alphabet 
to be called over, and for the table to tilt or thump at 
each letter, till it stops at the right one. The table tilts 
three times to indicate " yes," and once to indicate " no " ; 
but as one tilt also represents the letter A of the alphabet, 
an error of interpretation is occasionally made by the 
sitters. So also C might perhaps be mistaken for " yes," 
or vice versa ; but that mistake is not so likely. 

Unconscious guidance can hardly be excluded, i.e. can- 
not be excluded with any certainty when the answer is of 
a kind expected. But first, our desire was rather in the 
direction of avoiding such control ; and second, the 
stoppages were sometimes at unexpected places ; and 
third, a long succession of letters soon becomes meaning- 
less, except to the recorder who is writing them down 
silently, as they are called out to him seriatim, in another 
part of the room. 

It will also be observed that at a table sitting it is 
natural for the sitters to do most of the talking, and that 
their object is to get definite and not verbose replies. 

On this occasion the control of the table seemed to 
improve as the sitting went on, owing presumably to 
increased practice on the part of the communicator, until 
towards the end, when there seemed to be some signs of 
weariness or incipient exhaustion ; and, since the sitting 
lasted an hour and a half, tiredness is in no way surprising. 

No further attempt was made to keep our identity 
from Mrs. Leonard : our name had been given away, as 
reported near the end of Chapter VI. 

Table Sitting with Mrs. Leonard, Tuesday, 28 September 

, at 5-3 p w. 

Present0. J. L., M. F. A. L., K. K., WITH DR. KENNEDY 


A small partly wicker table with a square top was used, about 
1 8 inches square. O. J. L. and M. F. A. L. sat opposite to each 


other ; K. K. and Mrs. Leonard occupied the other positions, 
Mrs. Leonard to the right of O. J . L. After four minutes' interval, 
the table began to tilt. 

Medium. Will you tilt three times to show you understand ? 

(It did.) 
Medium. Will you like to give your name ? 

(It gave three tilts indicating YES.) 
Medium. Very well, then, the alphabet. Spell it, please. 

(Mrs. Leonard here repeated the alphabet fairly quickly, 
while the table tilted slightly at each letter as it 
was said, 

stopping first at the letter P 

then at the letter A 

then U 

then L. 

O. ]. L. Yes, very well, Paul ; we know who you are, and 
you know who we are, and we know that you have brought 
Raymond, and have come to help. 


O. J. L. We that are here know about this, and you have given 
us evidence already, but I am here to get evidence for the 


O. J. L. Would you like to say something first, before I ask a 
question ? 


Then the table moved and shook a little, indicating 
that it wanted the alphabet ; and when the medium 
recited the letters, it spelt out in the same manner 
as before, i.e. by stopping at the one desired by 
whatever intelligence was controlling the table : 


Here M. L. ejaculated : " Dear Raymond," and sighed 


The table spelt it being understood that Raymond 
had now taken control : 

M. F. A. L. Was I sighing ? 

O. J. L. Yes, but you must not be so distressed ; he doesn't 
like it. He is there all right, and I am glad to have some 
one on the other side. 

O. J. L. Raymond, your mother is much happier now. 

O. J. L. Now then, shall I ask you questions ? 


O. J. L. Well now, wait a minute and take your time, and I will 
ask the first question : 

What did the boys call you ? " 


The medium now again repeated the alphabet, the 
table tilting to each idler as before, 
first stopping at P 
then at A 
then at P again ; 

it then shook as if something was wrong. 
O. J. L. Very well, try again, begin once more. 

Again it spelt PAP, but again indicated dissent, and 
tried again : at the third trial it appeared to 


M. F. A. L. Raymond dear, you have given two letters right, 
try and give the third. 

It now stopped at T ; making PAT. 
M. F. A. L. Yes, that is right. 

[This was, of course, well in our knowledge and there- 
fore not strictly evidential, but it would not be in 
the knowledge of the medium.] (Of. p. 148.) 

O. J. L. Well, now, you have done that, shall I ask another ? 

O. J. L. Will you give the name of a brother ? 

The alphabet was repeated as usual by the medium, 
in a monotonous manner, the table tilting as before 
and stopping first at N 
then at O 

then going past E, it stopped at R 
and the next time at M 

then, by a single tilt, it indicated A or else fl No." 
O. J. L., thinking that the letters R and M were wrong, 
because the (to him) meaningless name NORMAN 
was evidently being given, took it as fl No/' and 
said : 
O. J. L, You are confused now, better begin again. 

The name accordingly was begun again, and this time 
it spelt 


O. J. L, That is right. [But see Appended Note, p. 147.] 

A slight pause took place here ; the table then indicated 
that it wanted the alphabet again, and spelt out 
an apparently single meaningless word which Dr. 
Kennedy, as he wrote the letters down, perceived 
to be 


O. J. L. Oh 1 You want another question I Would you like 
to say the name of an officer ? 


O. J. L. Very well then, spell it. 
Table spelt : 


then indicated error. 


CX J. L. Not P ? 


O. J. L. -Well, begin again. / 


O. J. L. Then the officer's name is Mitchell t 

O. J. L. Was he a captain ? 

O. J. L. Was he a lieutenant ? 

O. J. L. Was he a second lieutenant perhaps ? 

(Apparent assent, but nothing forcible ) 

O. J. L. I am now going to give a name away on piu pose ; I am 
going to ask Do you remember Case ? 

O. J. L. Would you like to say anything about him ? 


O. J. L. Very well then, let us have the alphabet. 
Table spelt : 


[Erasures signify errors which were made either by the 
communicator or the interpreter, and are in accord- 
ance with the record. The method was that each 
letter, as understood, was called out, usually by me, 
to the recorder. When a wrong letter was indicated, 
or when there was obviously a duplication, it was 
scratched out as above.] 

(After a short silence the spelling began again, it being 
easy for the table to indicate to the medium, by 
shaking or fidgeting, that she is wanted to repeat 
the alphabet.) 

HE is HERE. 
O. J. L. What, on your side ? 

[Thinking it referred to Lieutenant Case.] 
A loud " No." 


K. K. (interpreting for us). It only means Raymond is here 

and waiting. 
O. J. L. Under what circumstances did you see him last ? 

(The answer was apparently a faint " YES.") 
O. J. L. Have you any special message, or did you give Case a 
special message ? 

O. J. L. -What was it ? 


(Here some confusion was indicated ; and M. F. A. L. 

said, " Try and spell the name " meaning for 

whom the message was, if it was a message that was 

intended, which was very doubtful. 
It seemed to me that he was trying to say, or remember, 

what he had said to Lieutenant Case, who saw him 


after he had been struck ; and that what he thought 
he had said was " So I'm wounded " ; but I thought 
it unadvisable to continue on this tack, and rather 
regretted that I had begun it, since it was liable to 
put him back into a period of reminiscence which 
his friends would prefer that he did not dwell upon. 
Moreover, these last few questions did not seem 
particularly to interest him, and the responses were 
comparatively weak. Accordingly, I decided to 
switch him on to a topic that would be more 
likely to interest him.) 

O. J. L. Would you like your mother to go and see a friend of 
yours ? 

(Some names of friends of his were now correctly given, 
but as we knew them I need not reproduce this 

O. J. L. I say, Kaymond, would you like a Ford ? [motor]. 
(After a moment's apparent surprise : ) 

O. J. L. Aren't you tired now ? 

Loud " No." 
M. F. A. L. Raymond, I don't know Mitchell. 

O. J. L. Well, that will be better evidence. 


O. J. L. Is that why you chose it ? 


MEDIUM (sotto voce], No, that can't be right, 
O J. L. (ditto). 1 don't know , it may be. Go on. 

O. J. L. You mean that Mitchell is an aeroplane ofhcer ? 

YES " (very loud). 

M. F. A. L. (misunderstanding, and thinl%jng that he had sai& 
that he would like an aeroplane in preference to a Ford). 
Still at your jokes, Raymond ! 


(Then again the table indicated, by slight rocking, that 
the alphabet was wanted ; and it spelt : ) 


(The sitters here made a little explanatory comment 
to each other on what they understood this unim- 
portant sentence to mean ; after which O. J. L. 
appears to have said : ) 
O. J. L. I don't like bothering you. 

Table moved, indicating that it was no trouble. 
M. F. A. L. Raymond, can you see us ? 


M. F. A. L. Can you see that I have been writing to you ? 
[See Part I, p. 10.] 


M. F. A. L. Can you read what I am writing ? 


M. F. A. L. How do you read it ? By looking over my shoulder ? 
Table again called for alphabet and spelt : 


M. F. A. L. Shall you ever be able to write through my hand 
do you think ? 

M. F. A. L. Well, anyhow, you would like me to try ? 

O. T. L. Raymond, have you plenty to do over there ? 

Loud '- YES." 
O. J. L. Well, look here, I am going to give another name away. 


O. J. L. Oh ! You prefer not ! Very well, I will ask you in 
this way : Have you met any particular friend of mine ? 


O. J. L. Very well then, spell his name. 
The table spelt :- 


Here O. J. I,, thought that he had got wrong rather 
suspected that the A meant -' No/' and stupidly 
saul : 

O. J. L. Well, it doesn't matter, it won't be evidential, so I 
may as well guess what you mean Is it Gurney ? 

The table assented. But it still went on spelling. It 
again spelt : 


and then 


at which O. J. L. queried : Grand men ? 
The table dissented, and went on and spelt : 


O. J. L. Oh ! You mean Grandfather ! 

M. F. A. L. Is he with Myers and Gurney f 

Emphatic " No." 

M. F. A. L. Which grandfather is it that you mean ? Give 
the first letter of his Christian name. 

M, F. A. L. Dear Grandpapa ! He would be sure to come 

and help you ! 

O. J. L. I say, do you like this table method better than the 
8 Feda ' method ? 


O. J. L. But you remember that you can send anything you 
want specially through Paul always ? 


O. J. L. That was a grand sitting yesterday that your mother 
had 1 [i.e. the one with Peters.] 


M. F. A. L. Do you remember showing olives ? 

M. F. A. L. What did you mean by them ? 

M. F. A. L. Then we now understand A Roland for an Oliver 


O. J. L. You intended no reference to Italy ? [We had been 
doubtful at first of the significance of the olives ; see p. 131.] 

O. J. L. But you were interested in Italy ? 

O. J. L. Do you remember anyone special in Italy ? 

O. J. L. Well, spell the name. 

(A name was spelt correctly.) 
O. J. L. You are clever at this ! 

Loud " YES." 
O. J. L. You always did like mechanical things. 


O. J. L. Can you explain how you do this ? I mean how you 
work the table ? 

The table then spelt with the alphabet for a long time, 
and as the words \\ere not divided up, the sitters lost 
touch, one after the other, with what \vas being 
said. I, for instance, lost touch after the word 
'* magnetism," and, for all I knew, it was nonsense 
that was being said ; but the recorder put all the 
letters down as they came, each letter being called 
out by me according to the stoppages of the table, 
and the record reads thus : 


[The interest of this is due to the fact that the table 
was spelling out coherent words, although the 
sitters could hardly, under the circumstances, be 
exercising any control. Naturally, this does not 
prevent the medium from being supposed to be 
tilting out a message herself, and hence it is quite 
unevidcntial of course ; but, in innumerable other 
cases, the things said were quite outside the know- 
ledge of the medium.] 
O. T. L. It is not what 7 should call " magnetism," is it ? 

O. J. L. But you do not object to the term ? 


O. J. L. Paul's mother offers to take messages from you, and 
if she gets them, she will transmit them to us. 


O. J. L. So when you want to get anything special through, 
just speak to Paul. 



O. J. L.--Arid sometimes I shall be able to get a message back 
to you. 

Loud YES." 

(In answer to a question about which of his sisters were 
at school with a specified person, the names of the 
right two sisters were now spelt out : ) 


[We generally spell the name Rosalynde, but it was 
spelt here Rosalind as shown.] 


M. F. A. L. Isn't it clever of Mm ? 

Loud and amusing - ! YES." 
O. J. L. I never thought you would do it so quickly. 


O. J. L. Can you still make acrostics ? [O. J. L. immediately 
regretted having asked this leading sort of question, but it 
was asked.] 

K. K. You are not going to make one now ? 


M. F. A. L. Can you see me, Raymond, at other times when I 
am not with a medium ? 

Alphabet called for, and spelt : 


M F. A. L. You mean when I think of you ? 

O. J. L. That must be very often. 

Loud " YES." 

[When a j loud ' YES or No is stated, it means that the 
table tilted violently, bumping on the floor and 
making a noise which impressed the recorder, so 
that the words " loud bumps " were added in the 

[I then asked him about the houses (of which he had 
specified some identifying features at a previous sit- 
ting through Peters on 27 September). He seemed 
to regret that there had been some confusion, and 
now correctly spelt out GROVEPARK as the name 
of one house, and NEWCASTLE as the place where 
! Mother's home ' was. But I omit details, as 
before.] (See p. 135.) 

O. J. L. Tell Mr. Myers and Mr. Gurney that I am glad to hear 
from them and that they are helping you. 


M. F. A. L. Give my affectionate regards to Mr. Gurney for a 
message which he got through for me some time ago. 

O. J. L. Now you must rest. 


M. F. A. L. One of your record sleeps. 
Loud YES." 



O. J. L. Good-bye, I will tell the family to-morrow. 

O. J. L. Alec especially. 

M. F. A. L. Noel will love to have his name spelt out. 


O. J. L. Well, good-bye, old man, we shall hear from you again. 
M. F. A. L. Good-bye, Raymond darling. 
O. J. L. Before we stop, does Paul want to say a word ? 

(Paul was then understood to take control, and spelt 
out : ) 


(We then thanked Paul for helping, and said good-bye.) 
(End of sitting.) 

To complete the record I shall append the few annota- 
tions which I made a couple of days afterwards, before I 
supplement them with later information. 

Contemporary Annotations for Table Sitting on 
28 September 

r Very many things were given right at the sitting 
above recorded, and in most cases the Tightness will be 
clear from the comments of the sitters as recorded. But 
two names are given on which further annotation is 
necessary, because the sitters did not understand them ; 
in other words, they were such as, if confirmed, would 
furnish excellent and indeed exceptional evidence. 

The first is ' Norman/ about which a very important 
report could be made at once ; but I think it better not 
to put anything in writing on that subject even now, at the 
present stage, since it is quite distinct, unforgettable, and 
of the first importance. 

The other is the name ' Mitchell/ which at present we 
have had no opportunity for verifying ; hence annotation 
on that must be postponed. Suffice it to say that to-day 
(6 October 1915) it remains unknown. Whether an Army 
List has been published this year seems doubtful, and on 
the whole unlikely ; and no Army List later than 1909 has 
been so far accessible. Such few inquiries as have up to 
now been made have drawn blank. [See, however, three 
pages further on.] 


Later Information 

On 10 October Mrs. Kennedy, alone, had some auto- 
matic writing as follows : 

Mother, Paul is bringing Raymond. I have 
him here ; he will speak to you. , . . 

" Please listen carefully now I want to speak 

to you about NORMAN. There is a special 

meaning to that because we always called 

my brother Alec Norman, the (muddle . . .)." 

(K. K. said that she couldn't get the rest clearly.) 

On 12 October we had a sitting with Mrs. Leonard, 
K. K. also present, and I said to ' Raymond ' : 

Do you want to say anything more about that 
name ' Norman ' ? You gave a message about it 
to Mrs. Kennedy, but I don't know whether she 
got it clearly. Perhaps you want to amplify it ? If 
so, now is your chance. (The reply spelt out was : ) 


On which K. K. said: " I am afraid I often get names 
wrong. I suppose I got the name of the wrong 


It appears that ' Norman ' was a kind of general nick- 
hame ; and especially that when the boys played hockey 
together, which they often did in the field here, by way of 
getting concentrated exercise, Raymond, who was speci- 
ally active at this game, had a habit of shouting out, 
" Now then, Norman/' or other words of encouragement, 
to any of his other brothers whom he wished to stimulate, 
especially apparently Lionel, though sometimes Alec and 
the others. That is what I am now told, and I can 
easily realise the manner of it. But I can testify that I 
was not aware that a name like this was used, nor was 
Lady Lodge, we two being the only members of the family 
present at the Leonard table sitting where the name 
Norman ' was given. (See p. 140.) 
It will be remembered that at that sitting I first asked 


him what name the boys had called him, and, after a few 
partial failures, obviously only due to mismanagement of 
the table, he replied, ' Pat/ which was quite right. I 
then asked if he would like to give the name of a brother, 
and he replied ' Norman,' which I thought was quite 
wrong. I did not even allow him to finish the last letter. 

I said he was confused, and had better begin again ; after 
which he amended it to ' Noel/ which I accepted as 
correct. But it will now be observed that the name 
' Norman ' was the best he could possibly give, as a kind 
of comprehensive nickname applicable to almost any 
brother. And a nickname was an appropriate kind of 
response, because we had already had the nickname ' Pat/ 
Furthermore, on subsequent occasions he explained that it 
was the name by which he had called Lionel ; and, through 
Mrs. Kennedy if she did not make a mistake that it was 
a name he had called Alec by. It is quite possible, how- 
ever, that he had intended to say ' Lionel ' on that 
occasion, and that she got it wrong. I am not sure how 
that may be. Again, at a later stage, in a family sitting 
no medium present one of the boys said, " Pat, do you 
remember ' Norman ' ? " at whHi with some excitement, 
the girls only touching the table, he spelt out ' HOCKEY ' ; 
thus completing the whole incident. 

The most evidential portions, however, are those 
obtained when nobody present understood what was 
being said namely, first, the spelling of the name 
' Norman ' when those present thought that it was all 
a mistake after the first two letters ; and secondly, the 
explanation to Mrs. Kennedy that it was a name by which 
he had called one of his brothers, showing that it was 
originally given by no accident, but with intention. 

As to the name ' Pat ' (p. 140), I extract the following 
from a diary of Noel, as evidence that it was very much 
Raymond's nickname ; but of course we knew it : 


II Sept. 9. Pat goes to L'pool re Commission. 

10. Pat gets commission in 3rd South Lane's. 
14. Pat collecting kit. We inspect revolvers. 
1 8. Pat comes up to Harborne for some rifle practice. 

Does not find it too easy. 

ti 19. I become member of Harborne Rifle Club. 
ft 20. Pat shoots again. 


Sept. 23. Pat leaves for L'pool to start his training at Great 


I give up commission-idea for the present. 
Oct. 17. Pat comes home to welcome Parents back from 

r 2O. Pat returns to L'pool." 

Note on the name ' Mitchell ' (added later) 

It can be remembered that, when asked on 28 Sep- 
tember for the name of an officer, Raymond spelt out 
MITCHELL, and indicated decisively that the word AERO- 
PLANE was connected with him ; he also assented to the 
idea that he was one whom the family didn't know, and 
that so it would be better as evidence (pp. 141, 142). 

After several failures at identification I learnt, on 
10 October, through the kind offices of the Librarian of 
the London Library, that he had ascertained from the War 
Office that there was a 2nd Lieut. E. H. Mitchell now 
attached to the Royal Flying Corps. Accordingly, I 
wrote to the Record Office, Farnborough ; and ultimately, 
on 6 November, received a post card from Captain 
Mitchell, to whom I must apologise for the, I hope, quite 
harmless use of his name : 

41 Many thanks for your kind letter. 1 believe I have met 
your son, though where I forget. My wounds are quite healed, 
and I am posted to Home Establishment for a bit, with rank of 
Captain. Your letter only got here (Dover) from France this 
morning, so please excuse delay in answering. 


In concluding this chapter, I may quote a little bit of 
non-evidential but characteristic writing from ' Paul.' 
It was received on 30 September 1915 by Mrs. Kennedy, 
when alone, and her record runs thus : 

(After writing of other things, I not having asked any- 
thing about Raymond.) 

ft I think it hardly possible for you to believe how 
quickly Raymond learns ; he seems to believe all 
that we have to fight to teach the others. 
" Poor chaps, you see no one has told them before they 
come over, and it is so hard for them when they see 
us and they feel alive, and their people keep on 


" The business for you and me gets harder and harder 
as the days go on, mother ; it needs thousands at 
this work, and you are so small. 

" I feel that God helps us, but I want Him to find 
others, darling ; there is no time to waste either in 
your place or mine, but I know you are trying ever 
so hard." 


I have recently received a letter from Captain Mitchell's 
father, previously quite unknown to me, which, as it adds some- 
thing evidential, I here quote extracts from : 

10 March 1918 

" My reason for intruding upon you is this : Only last night 
I was reading in your book Raymond, and was first astonished 
and then deeply interested when I read on pages 141 to 149 of 
a young officer of the R.F.C., E. H. Mitchell, being mentioned by 
Raymond at the sitting you had on 28 September 1915. For this 
dear boy (Erik Harrison Mitchell) who passed over on the last 
Saturday of the following April was or rather is my only son. 

" I think I can see why Raymond's thoughts were directed 
to him on that day, also why he was silent when questioned as 
to the boy's rank. In the first place, probably your son was 
engaged in tending the wounded as I learn my boy now is ; 
and Erik had been wounded only two days before your sitting, 
viz. on Sunday, 26 September 1915 ; and may not your son 
have tended my boy during some part of those forty-eight hours ? 
And as to rank. When the war began Erik was an apprentice 
at Vickers* at Erith, and was a 2nd Lieut, in the 4th Home 
Counties Howitzer Brigade, consisting of Vickers' boys princi- 
pally, if not entirely. He then became ist Lieut, in this 
territorial brigade and later joined the regulars, being gazetted 2nd 
Lieut, in the R.F.A. When he was wounded, therefore, he was 
2nd Lieut. R.F.^4., seconded to R.F.C. For his exploit on 26 
September 191 5 he was promoted to the post of Flight Commander 
with rank of Captain. Does not all this account for the silence 
and apparent doubt of Raymond when questioned as to rank ? 

" If you will bear with me a little longer I should like to 
refer to the sitting I had a few days ago with Mrs. Brittain. 
It was the first such sitting I had ever had, and my dear boy 
was so grateful to me for taking the step, for he explained that 
he had been trying during all these months to communicate 
with his mother and me without success. And he was so 
glad and happy and so wonderfully affectionate. Without my 
mentioning even that it was he I had come to seek, Mrs. 
Brittain told me she saw an aeroplane with a broken propeller 
and a boy beside it describing him in great detail and most 
faithfully. And when I said she had not given me his name 
she said, * Why, there's a boy calling him now, < Erik." ' 



IN a Table Sitting it is manifest that the hypothesis 
of unconscious muscular guidance must be pressed 
to extremes, as a normal explanation, when the com- 
munications are within the knowledge of any of the people 
sitting at the table. 

Many of the answers obtained were quite outside the 
knowledge of the medium or of Mrs. Kennedy, but many 
were inevitably known to us ; and in so far as they were 
within our knowledge it might be supposed, even by our- 
selves, that we partially controlled the tilting, though of 
course we were careful to try not to do so. And besides, 
the things that came, or the form in which they came, were 
often quite unexpected, and could not consciously have 
been controlled by us. Moreover, when the sentence 
spelt out was a long one, we lost our way in it and could 
not tell whether it was sense or nonsense ; for the words 
ran into each other. The note-taker, who puts each 
letter down as it is called out to him by the sitters at the 
table, has no difficulty in reading a message, although, 
with the words all run together, it hardly looks intelligible 
at first sight, even when written. For instance : 


which was one message, or : 


which was part of another. Neither could be readily 
followed if called out slowly letter by letter. 

Still, the family were naturally and properly sceptical 
about it all. 

Accordingly, my sons devised certain questions in the 


nature of tests, referring to trivial matters which they 
thought would be within Raymond's recollection, but 
which had happened to them alone during summer ex- 
cursions or the like, and so were quite outside my know- 
ledge. They gave me a few written questions, devised in 
conclave in their own room ; and on 12 October I took 
them to London with me in a sealed envelope, which I 
opened in the train when going up for a sitting ; and after 
the sitting had begun I took an early opportunity of 
putting the questions it contained. We had already had 
(on 28 September, reported in last chapter) one incident of 
a kind unknown to us, in the name * Norman/ but they 
wanted more of the same or of a still more marked kind. 
I think it will be well to copy the actual contemporary 
record of this part of the sitting in full : 

Second Table Sitting of 0. /. L. and M. F. A. L. with 
Mrs. Leonard, 12 October 1915, 5.30 p.m. 

Present O. J. L., M. F. A. L., K. K., WITH DR. KENNEDY 

At the beginning of the sitting O. J. L. explained that 
they were now engaged in trying to get distinct and crucial 
evidence ; that preparations had been made accordingly ; 
and that no doubt those on the other side approved, and 
would co-operate. 

A pause of three and a half minutes then ensued, and 
the table gave a slow tilt, 
o. J. L. Is Paul there ? 

o. J. L. Have you brought Raymond ? 

o. J. L. Are you there, Raymond ? 


o. j. L. (after M. F. A. L. had greeted him). Well now, 
look here, my boy, I have got a few questions which 
your brothers think you will know something 
about, whereas to me they are quite meaningless. 
Their object is to make quite sure that we don't 
unconsciously help in getting the answers because 
we know them. In this case that is impossible, 


because nobody here knows the answers at all. Do 
you understand the object ? 

o. j. L. Very well then, shall I begin ? 


o. j. L. Oh! You want to say something yourself 
first ? 

o. j. L. Very well then, the alphabet. 


[Taking these long messages down is rather 
tedious, and it is noteworthy that the 
sitters lose their way sooner or later i had 
no idea what was coming or whether it was 
sense but of course when it is complete 
the recorder can easily interpret, and does 

o. J. L. Is that the end of what you want to say your- 
self ? 


o. j. L. Well then, now I will give you one of the boys' 
questions, but I had better explain that you may 
not in every case understand the reference your- 
self. We can hardly expect you to answer all of 
them, and if you don't do one, I will pass on to 
another. But don't hurry, and we will take down 
whatever you choose to say on each of them. The 
first question is : 

O. J. L. " Do you remember anything about the 
Argonauts ? " 

(Silence for a short time.) 

o. J. L. ' Argonauts ' is the word. Does it mean 
anything to you ? Take your time. 


o. J. L. Well, would you like to say what you re- 
member ? 

Then, by repeating the alphabet, was spelt : 


o. J. L. Is that the end of that answer ? 



o. j. L. Well, now I will go on to the second question 

then. " What do you recollect about Dartmoor ? " 

The time for thought was now much briefer, 

and the table began to spell pretty soon : 


o. j. L. Is that all ? 

o. j. L. Very well then, continue. 


o. j. L. Is that the end of the answer ? 


o. j. L. Very well then, now I will go on to the third 
question, which appears to be a bit complicated. 
" What do the following suggest to you : 
O. B. P. 
Kaiser's sister." 

(No good answers were obtained to these 
questions : they seemed to awaken no 

Asked the name of the man to whom Raymond 
had given his dog, the table spelt out 
STALLARD quite correctly. But this was 
within our knowledge.) 

(End of extract from record.) 


On reporting to my sons the answers given about 
' Argonauts ' and ' Dartmoor ' they were not at all 

I found, however, from the rest of the family that the 
word TELEGRAM had a meaning in connexion with 
' Argonauts ' a meaning quite unknown to me or to my 
wife but it was not the meaning that his brothers had 
expected. It seems that in a previous year, while his 
mother and I were away from home, the boys travelled 
by motor to somewhere in Devonshire, and (as they 
think) at Taunton Raymond had gone into a post office, 
sent a telegram home to say that they were all right, and 
had signed it ' Argonauts/ The girls at home remembered 


the telegram quite well ; the other boys did not specially 
remember it. 

The kind of reference they had wanted, Raymond gave 
ultimately though meagrely, but only after so much time 
had elapsed that the test had lost its value, and only 
after I had been told to switch him on to " Tent Lodge, 
Coniston/' as a clue. 

Now that I know the answer I do not think the ques- 
tion was a particularly good one ; and the word ' tele- 
gram/ which they had not expected and did not want, 
seems to me quite as good an incident as the one which, 
without a clue, they had expected him to recall in connexion 
with 'Argonauts.' Besides, I happened myself to know 
about an Iceland trip in Mr. Alfred Holt's yacht ' Argo ' 
and its poetic description by Mr. Mitchell Banks and Dr. 
Caton in a book in the drawing-room at Tent Lodge, 
Coniston (though the boys were not aware of my know- 
ledge), but it never struck me that this was the thing 
wanted ; and if it had come, the test would have been of 
inferior quality. 

Concerning the answer to ' Dartmoor/ his brothers said 
that COMING DOWN HILL was correct but incomplete ; and 
that they didn't remember any FERRY. I therefore on 
another occasion, namely, on 22 October, during a sitting 
with Feda (that is to say, not a table sitting, but one 
in which Mrs. Leonard's control Feda was speaking and 
reporting messages), said still knowing nothing about the 
matter beyond what I had obtained in the table sitting 
" Raymond, do you remember about ' Dartmoor ' and the 
hill ? " 

The answer is recorded as follows, together with the 
explanatory note added soon afterwards though the 
record is no doubt a little abbreviated, as there was some 
dramatic representation by Feda of sudden swerves and 
holding on : 

From Sitting of 0. J. L. and M. F. A. L. on 

22 October 1915. ' Feda ' speaking 

o. J. L. Raymond, do you remember about Dartmoor 
and the hill ? 

Yes, he said something about that. He says it 


was exciting. What is that he says ? Brake 
something about a brake putting the brake on. 
Then he says, sudden curve a curve he gives 
Feda a jerk like going round a quick curve. 

[I thought at the time that this was only 
padding, but subsequently learnt from Alec 
that it was right. It was on a very long 
night-journey on their motor, when the 
silencer had broken down by bursting, at 
the bottom of an exceptionally steep hill, 
and there was an unnerving noise. The 
one who was driving went down other steep 
hills at a great pace, with sudden applica- 
tions of the brake and sudden quick curves, 
so that those at the back felt it dangerous, 
and ultimately had to stop him and insist on 
going slower. Raymond was in front with 
the one who was driving. The sensations 
of those at the back of the car were strongly 
connected with the brake and with curves ; 
but they had mainly expected a reference 
from Raymond to the noise from the broken 
silencer, which they ultimately repaired 
during the same night with tools obtained 
at the first town they stopped at.] 
o. J. L. Did he say anything about a ferry ? 

No, he doesn't remember that he did. 
o. j. L. Well, I got it down. 

There is one : all the same there is one. But 
he didn't mean to say anything about it. He says 
it was a stray thought that he didn't mean to give 
through the table. He has found one or two things 
come in like that. It was only a stray thought. 
You have got what you wanted, he says. ' Hill,' 
he meant to give, but not ' ferry.' They have 
nothing to do with each other. 

On a later occasion I took an opportunity of cate- 
chising him further about this word FERRY, since none of 
the family remembered a ferry, or could attach any 
significance to the word. He still insisted that his 
mention of a ferry in connexion with a. motor trip was not 


wrong, only he admitted that " some people wouldn't 
call it a ferry." I waited to see if any further light would 
come ; and now, long afterwards, on 18 August 1916 I 
receive from Alec a note rel erring to a recent trip, this 
month, which says : 

" By the way, on the run to Langland Bay 
(which is the motor run we all did the year before 
the i un to Newquay ) we pass through Briton Ferry ; 
and there is precious little ferry about it." 

So even this semi-accidental reminiscence seems to be 
turning out not altogether unmeaning ; though probably 
it ought not to have come in answer to ' Dartmoor.' (See 
more about Dartmoor on p. 211.) 


It will be realised, I think, that a single word, apart 
from the context, thus thrown at a person who may be in 
a totally differen mood at the tjme, is exceedingly diffi- 
cult ; and on the whole T think he must be credited with 
some success, though not with as much as had been hoped 
for. If his brothers had been present, or had had any 
interview with him in the meantime, it would have spoilt 
the test, considered strictly ; nevertheless, it might have 
made the obtaining of the answers they wanted much 
more feasible, inasmuch as in their presence he would 
have been in their atmosphere and be more likely to re- 
member their sort of surroundings. Up to this date they 
had not had any sitting with a medium at all. In 
presence of his mother and myself, and under all the 
circumstances, and what he felt to be the gravity of some 
of his recent experiences, it is not to me surprising that 
the answers were only partially satisfactory; though, 
indeed, to me they seem rather good. Anyhow, they 
had the effect of stimulating his brothers to art ange some 
sittings with a table at home on their own account. 


I MIGHT make many more extracts from this sitting 
of 22 October, ol which a short extract has just been 
quoted, because, though not specially evidential, 
they have instructive and so to speak common-sense 
features, but it is impossible to include everything. I 
will therefore omit most of it, but quote a little, not 
because it is evidential, but because what is said may be 
instructive to inquirers. 


He wants to gather evidence and give something clearly. 
He seems to think that his brother had been coming here 
(looking about). 

O. J. L. Your brother will come to see you to-morrow. [He 
was not coming to Mrs. Leonard.] 

Where is he ? He got the impression that he had either 
been here or should be here now ; he has got the thought 
of him. He has been trying to get into touch with him 
himself ; he has been trying to speak to him. Seems to 
have something to do with Mrs. Kathie, 1 and he has tried 
to write to him. The trouble is, that he can't always see 
distinctly. He feels in the air, but can't see always dis- 
tinctly. (To M. F. A. L.) When you are sitting at the 
table he sees you, and can see what you have got on. 
When he tries to come to you, he can only sense you ; but 
at the table he can see you. 

O. J. L. Has he seen his brothers at a table ? 

No, not at the table. He sensed them, and he thought 
they were trying to speak to him ; but didn't feel as if he 
was going to get near. It has something to do with a 
medium. Medium. [Meaning that they were trying to do 
without a medium.] 

1 Mrs. Kennedy's name is Katherinc, and Feda usually speaks of her 
as Mrs. Kathie. 



M. F. A. L. When did he see me ? 

When a medium is present he sees you quite distinctly. 
He saw you, not here, but at another place. Oh, it was 
in London, another place in London, some time ago. He 
was surprised to see you, and wondered how he could. 
[Presumably the occasion intended was when Mrs. Kennedy, 
who herself has power, was present as well as Peters.] 
He can only think the things he wants to say. 1 [Then 
reverting to his brothers' attempts at Mariemont.] 
-Tell them to go on. I shall never get tired. Never! 
Tell them to have patience. It is more interesting to me 
than to them. " He does not seem sure if he got anything 
through. It is so peculiar. Even here, he is not always 
quite certain that he has said what he wanted to say, 
except sometimes when it is clear and you jump at it. 
Sometimes then he feels, li I've got that home, anyway ! " 
He has got to feel his way. They must go easy with him 
not ask too much all at once. If they have plenty of 
patience, in a while he will be able to come and talk as if 
he were there. 
M. F. A. L. Do you mean with the voice ? 

No, with the table. 

More important than talking is to get things through 
with his own people, and to give absolute evidence. He 
doesn't want them to bother him with test questions till he 
feels at home. It doesn't matter here, where there is a 
medium, but the conditions there are not yet good. Tell 
them to take for granted that it is he, and later on he will 
be able to talk to them and say all he wishes to say. The 
boys are so eager to get tests. When grandpapa comes, it 
is to relieve him a little, while he is not there. He doesn't 
himself want to speak. 

Twice a week, he says. 

He is bringing a girl with him now a young girl, 
growing up in the spirit world. She belongs to Ray- 
mond : long golden hair, pretty tall, slight, brings a 
lily in her hand. There is another spirit too who passed 
out very young a boy ; you wouldn't know him as he is 
now ; he looks about the same age as Raymond, but very 
spiritual in appearance ; he brings a W with him ; he 
doesn't know much of the earth plane, nor the lily either ; 
he passed over too young. They are both with Raymond 
now. They look spiritual and young. Spirit people look 
young if they passed on young. Raymond is in the middle 
between them. He says this is not very scientific. [All 
this is appropriate to a deceased brother and sister ; the 
brother older, the sister younger.] 

Raymond really is happy now. He doesn't say this to 
make you feel satisfied. He is really happy now. He says 

1 This corresponds with an early statement made by " Myers " 
through Mrs. Thompson. See Proceedings, S.P.R., vol. xxiii. p. 221. 


this is most interesting, and is going to be fifty times more 
interesting than on the earth plane. There is such a big 
field to work in. Father and he are going to do such a lot 
together. He says, fi I am going to help for all I am worth." 
(To M. F. A. L.) If you are happy, I will be happier too. 
You used to sigh ; it had an awful effect on him, but he is 
getting lighter with you. Father has been wonderful. 
He is often with Paulie, and has been to see Mrs. Kathie too. 
[Meaning Mrs. Katherine Kennedy. Feda, of course, is 

speaking throughout.] 
M. F. A. L. Which way does he find the easiest to come ? 

He^is able to get to you by impression, and not only by 
writing. He thinks he can make you hear. He is trying 
to make you clair-audient. Let there be no misappre- 
hension about that. He does it in order to help himself. 
He hopes to get something through. 

O. J. L. You might send the same thing through different 

Yes, he says. He need not say much, but is going 
to think it out. He can get Mrs. K. to write it out, and 
then get it through the table with them. He thinks he 
will be able to do a lot with you, Mrs. Kathie. You know 
that Paulie's here ? 

(K. K. spoke to Paul for a short time.) 

O. J. L. Do you think it had better be tried on the same evening, 
or on different evenings ? 

Try it on the same evening at first, and see what suc- 
cess is got ; if only one word came through the same, he 
would be very pleased. He might get one word first, then 
two, then two or three. Tell them to reserve a little time 
for just that, and give him some time specially for it, not 
mix it up with other things in the sittings. 
K. K. Shall I ask him to write some word ? 

He will think of some word no matter if it is meaning- 
less. What you have to do is, not to doubt, but take it 
down. One word might be much more valuable than a 
long oration. One word would do, no matter how silly 
it sounded ; even if it is only a jumble, so long as it is the 
same jumble. He is j umping now. [Meaning, he is pleased 
with the idea.] He says he finds it difficult owing to the 
medium. He is not able to get through all he wants to 
say, but on the whole thinks he got it pretty straight 

[The quickness with which the communicator jumped 
at the idea of a cross-correspondence was notable, 
because I do not think he had known anything about 
them. It sounded rather like the result of rapid 
Myersian instruction. I rather doubt if cross- 
correspondences of this kind can be got through 
Mrs. Kennedy, though she knows we are going to 
try for them. The boys are quite willing to take 


down any jumble, but she herself likes to understand 
what she gets, and automatically rejects gibberish. 
O. J. L.] 

On 13 October, through the kind arrangement of Mrs. 
Kennedy, we had an anonymous sitting with a medium 
new to us, a Mrs. Brittain, of Hanley, Staffordshire, in 
Mrs. Kennedy's house. 

It was not very successful the medium seemed tired 
and worried but there were a few evidential points 
obtained, though little or nothing about the boy ; in the 
waking stage, however, she said that some one was calling 
the name ' Raymond/ 

At an interview next day with Mrs. Kennedy, Mrs. 
Britlain said that a boy named 'Pat* had come with 
Paul to see her on the evening after the sitting (see p. 148 
for the significance of ' Pat ') ; and she described it in 
writing to Mrs. Kennedy thus : 

14 October 1915 

8$ I was just resting, thinking over the events of the day, 
and worrying just a little about my ordeal of next Monday, 
when I became conscious of the presence of such a dear soldier 
boy. He said, ' I am Pat, and oh, I did want to speak to my mother.' 
Then I saw with him your dear boy [Paul] ; he asked me to tell 
you about Pat, and to give the message to his father that he would 
get proof without seeking it." 



Introduction by 0. /. L. 

A WORD may be necessary about the attitude of Raymond's 
family to the whole subject. It may be thought that my 
own known interest in the subject was naturally shared 
by the family, but that is not so. So far as I can judge, it 
had rather the opposite effect ; and not until they had received 
unmistakable proof, devised largely by themselves, was this 
healthy scepticism ultimately broken down. 

My wife nad had experience with Mrs. Piper in 1889, though she 
continued very sceptical till 1906 or thereabouts, when she had 
some extraordinarily good evidence. But none of this experience 
was shared by the family, who read neither my nor anyone else's 
books on the subject, and had no first-hand evidence. For the 
most part they regarded it without interest and with practical 
scepticism. If in saying this I convey the impression of anything 
like friction or disappointment, the impression is totally false. 
Life was full of interest of many kinds, and, until Raymond's 
death, there was no need for them to think twice about survival or 
the possibility of communication. 

The first sitting held by any of his brothers, apart from private 
amateur attempts at home, the first sitting, I may say, held by 
any of them with any medium, took place on 23 October, when 
Alec had a sitting with Peters ; his mother also was present, but 
no names were given. Alec's record of this sitting, together with 
his preliminary Note, I propose to quote practically in full. 

Alec and his mother went in the morning to Mrs. Kennedy's 
house, where the sitting was to take place. M. F. A. L. stopped 
on the way to buy a bunch of violets, which she put on Peters' 
table. When he arrived and saw them, he was very pleased ; 
ejaculated i my flower," and said that he could not have had any- 
thing that gave him more pleasure. 

I may here remark, incidentally, that Peters is a man who 
takes his mediumship seriously, and tries to regulate his life so as 
to get good conditions. Thus, he goes into the country at inter- 
vals, and stops all work for a time to recuperate. He lives, in fact, 
at Westgate-on-Sea, and only has a room in London. He seems 
to lead a simple life altogether, and his * J control " spoke of his 



having been prepared since six o'clock that morning for this 

Alec went up prepared to take notes, and after the sitting 
wrote the following preliminary account : 

A. M. L.'s Remarks on the Sitting 

Mother and I arrived at Mrs. Kennedy's house at 
five minutes to eleven. We saw Mrs. Kennedy, who 
asked us if we would like her to be present. We said 
yes. Then she told us that Peters had come, and that she 
would ask him. Peters wanted her to be present. 

Mrs. Kennedy brought Peters up ; he shook hands, 
without any introduction. We had all gone up to Mrs. 
Kennedy's private room, where Peters likes the sittings to 
take place. We four sat round a table about four feet in 
diameter. A. and M. with backs to one or other of the 
two windows, K. and P. more or less facing them. A. 
was opposite P. ; M. was opposite K. There was plenty of 
light, but the room was partly shaded by pulling down 
blinds. They talked about street noises at first. P. held 
K.'s and M.'s hands for a time. K. and M. talked together 
a little. P. now moved about a little and rubbed his face 
and eyes. Suddenly he jerked himself up and began talk- 
ing in broken English. 

During the trance his eyes were apparently closed all 
the time ; and when speaking to anyone he ' looked ' at 
them with his eyelids screwed up. Sometimes a change 
of control occurred. While that was taking place, he 
sat quiet, and usually held K.'s and M.'s hands until 
another sudden jerk occurred, when he let go and started 

The sitting was rather disjointed, and most of it 
apparently not of much importance, but for a few minutes 
in the middle it was very impressive. It then felt to me 
exactly as if my hand was being held in both Raymond's, 
and as if Raymond himself was speaking in his own voice. 
My right hand was being held, but even if I had had it free 
I could not possibly have taken notes under the circum- 

(M. F. A. L. adds that neither could she nor anyone, 
while that part of the sitting was going on.) 


Peters spoke often very quickly, and sometimes in- 
distinctly, so that the notes are rather incomplete. 

(To this O. J. L. adds that it was Alec's first ex- 
perience of a sitting, and that, even with experience, it is 
difficult to take anything like full notes.) 

Report of Peters Sitting in Mrs. Kennedy's Room, at 
II a.m. on Saturday, 23 October 1915 

(Revised by the Sitters) 

Present MRS. KENNEDY (K. K.), LADY LODGE (M. F. A. L.), 
ALEC M. LODGE, and the Medium Voux PETERS 


In a short time Peters went into trance, and ' Moon- 
stone ' was understood to be taking control. He first 
made some general remarks : 

Good morning! I generally say, "Good even- 
ing/ 1 don't I ? Don't be afraid for Medie ; he has 
been prepared since six o'clock this morning 
Magnetism has to be stored up, and therefore it is 
best to use the same room and the same furniture 
every time. 

Then he spoke to K. K. : 

Will you call on little woman close to ? It will 
mean salvation to two people [Abbreviated.] 

(K. K. understood.) 

Then the medium took M.'s hand. 

Somebody not easy to describe ; old lady ; not 
tall ; grey hair, parted in centre ; grey eyes ; nose 
thin ; mouth fairly large and full. This describes 
her as she was before she passed away. Had 
big influence on your early life. Good character ; 
loving, but perhaps lived in narrow outlook ; not 
only a mother to her own belongings, but she 
mothered every man, woman, or child she came 
into contact with. She is here this morning and 
has been before. Is it not your Mother ? 
M. F. A. L. If it is my Mother, it is a great pleasure to 


She has been with you and comforted you 
through this trial. 

She has been, and will go on, looking after the 
boy. You must not think she is not just as much 
with you because she has no body. She is just as 
much your mother. She has a body, though it is 

(Pointing to A.) She is related to him. She 
puts her hand on his shoulder. She is very proud 
of what he is doing at the present time. He has 
been a great help to you. Since the passing away 
of him who is loved by you both, he has looked 
on spiritualism with much more respect, because 
previously it has not touched his heart. It is not 
only a thing of the head, it is now a thing of the 

She suffered terribly before passing away. She 
bore her suffering patiently. 

She put her linger on her lips and says : " I am 
so proud of O. ! " (Medium puts one finger on 
middle of lips.) 

It has always been what I thought : the 
triumph (?) has been a long time coming, but it will 
come greater than had been anticipated. There 
have been difficulties. I am glad of success. It 
will come greater than before. The book that is to 
be will be written from the heart, and not the head. 
But the book will not be written now. NOT NOW ! 
NOT NOW ! NOT NOW ! (loud). Written later on. 
THE BOOK which is going to help many and con- 
vert many. The work done already is big. But 
what is coming is bigger. 


(Paul, sending a message to K. K. : ) 

I have been drilling her to link up. You don't 
know what it is. It is like teaching people to 
transmit messages by the telegraph. Don't let 
the boy come, let Granny come. (The medium 
here imitated Paul's manner of sitting down and 
pulling up the knees of his trousers.) She laughs 
at the idea of being drilled. 

He says (Paul still communicating) : You know, 


little Mother, you wonder why I was taken ; but 
it is a great deal better like this. Thousands of 
people can be helped like this. You are the link, 
and the means of reaching thousands of mothers. 
(Then ' Moonstone ' was understood to say : ) 
Returning to Madam (i.e. the old lady again, 
and medium turning to M. F. A. L.), she says 
" I am so glad you not only told him what you did 
this is not to you but some one away (finger on 
lips), somebody she will not give and reached out 
as you did/ 1 

This is from Madam. She is going away. 
M. F. A. L. My love to her. 

No, no, no, she does not go away ; she stands 
back, to let some one else come forward like 
actors take turns at a theatre. 

[Then an impersonation of my Uncle Jerry 
was represented, with the statement, " Your 
husband will know who he is " ; but this 
part of the record is omitted as compara- 
tively unimportant. It was unintelligible 
to the sitter. O. J. L.] 

(Then a new control came in, which was by 
K. K. understood to be ' Redfeather/ 
When he arrived, the medium smacked 
his hands and spoke to K. K. : ) 
I come dis little minute to try experiment. If 
we succeed, all right ; if we don't, don't mind. 
There will be some difficulties. 

You know me ? (To K. K.) 
K. K. Yes. It is * Redfeather/ 

Glad to see you better. You used to feel a 
hand on your head. It was a little girl. It was 
your boy who brought her. Now I go. Just 
talk a little. 

(K. K. then thanked the speaker for his help.) 
Who could help better than me ? 
. . . long ago I was killed. 
Who could help better ? 

(Then there was an interval, and evident 
change of control. And speech very in- 
distinct at first.) 


I want to come. 
Call Mother to help me. 
Because you know. 
You understand. 
It wasn't so bad. 
Not so bad. 

I knew you knew the possibility of communicat- 
ing, so when I went out as I did, I was in a 
better condition than others on the other side. 
We had often talked about this subject, father 
understanding it as he did ; and now, coming 
into touch with his strength, makes it easy. 

(Medium here reached out across the table to 
A. and grasped his right hand, so that the 
notes were temporarily interrupted. The 
medium's arms were now both stretched out 
across the table, with his head down on 
them, and he held A/s hand in both his. 
All this time he spoke with great emotion : 
the medium was shaken with sobs ; his 
head and neck were suffused with blood ; 
the whole circumstances were strained, and 
strongly emotional ; and the voice was 
extraordinarily like Raymond's. A., too, 
felt that his hands were being gripped in a 
grasp just like Raymond's. This was the 
central part of the sitting ; and for the 
time no notes could be taken, even by Mrs. 
Kennedy. But after a bit the hand was 
released, the strain rather lightened, and 
notes continue which run thus : ) 

[A. M. L. says, " In time the interval was brief," 
but it was surcharged with emotion, 
strongly felt by all present.] 

But no, wait. 

Because they tell me. 

I am not ashamed. 

I am glad. 

I tell you, I would do it again. 

I realise things differently to what one saw here. 

And oh, thank God, I can speak ! 


But ... 

The boys help me. 

You don't know what he has done. 

Who could help ? 

But I must keep quiet, I promised them to keep 


The time is so short. 

Tell father that I am happy. 

That I am happy that he has not come. 

If he had come here, I couldn't have spoken. 

I find it difficult to express what I want. 

Every time 1 come back it is easier. 

The only thing that was hard was just before. 

The 1 5th, do you understand ? 

And the I2th. 

[We do not clearly understand these dates.] 

But every time I come it is better. 

Grandmama helped or I couldn't. 

Now I must go. 

. . . broken . . . 

But I have done it, thank God ! 

(Then this special control ended ; while the 
medium murmured, as to himself, first the 
word 'John/ and then the word 'God/ 
Then the strain was relieved by a new 
control, understood to be ' Biddy/) 

Surely it's meself that has come to speak. 

Here's another mother. I am helping the boy. 

I said to him to come out. 

(To A, M. L.) Just you go and do your work. 

When the boy comes as he did, it upsets the 

body. I come to help to soothe the nerves of 

the medium. It is a privilege to help. I am 

an old Irishwoman. 

(To K. K.) You don't realise that the world 

is governed by chains, and that you are one of 

the links. I was a washerwoman and lived next 

a church, and they say cleanliness comes next 

to godliness ! One of my chains is to help 

mothers. Well, I am going. But for comfort, 

the boy is glad he is come. (To K. K.) Your 

husband is a fine man. I love him. His 


heart's as big as his body, and it is not only 
medicine, but love that he dispenses. 
(Then an interval ; and another control 
probably ' Moonstone ' again, or else Peters 
himself clairvoyantly : ) 
We succeeded a little in our experiment. 
Now the boy is with . . . 
(Here the medium seized both Alec's hands, and 

K. K. continues the notes.) 
[But they may be abbreviated here, as they 
represent only Peters's ordinary clairvoyance 

You bring with you a tremendous force. You 
don't always say what you think. A quick way 
of making up your mind. Your intuitional force 
is very strong. Your mind is very evenly balanced, 
[and so on] . . . The last three months, things 
have altered. It lias stirred you to the depths 
of your innermost being. You had no idea how 
strong the bond was between you and one who has 
been here to-day. Want to shield and take care of 
your mother. You know her devotion to both you 
and the one gone over. . . . 

The one gone over is a brother. He wants to 
send a message. 

(Some message's omitted.) 
You did not cry, but heart crying inside. 
Help others. You are doing it It you ever 
tried to do what he did, you would physically break 
down. All this is from him. 

(To Mother) So glad about the photograph. 

Something you have had done that is satisfactory. 

[This is good, but it only occurred to me to-day, 

31 October. It evidently relates to two 

photographs in a pocket case, found on his 

body, which Raymond carried with him, and 

which had been returned to the original by 

us. A. M. L.] 

Wants to convey message to father, but it is not 
about himself this time. I get the initials F W M 
not clear about all the letters but F M 
wishes to be remembered. He says : I am still 


very active. Get into touch with Crookes re the 

fO. J, L. was at Muirhead's works in Kent on 
this subject, at this moment. A. M. L.] 

Still active, still at work. 

[Spoken like "I see you are still active, still 
at work/' A. M. L.] 

Then he gives me a curious thing, and laughs. 
One of the things I am most proud of is " St. Paul." 

[This puzzled K. K., the note-taker.] 

(To Alec.) So glad you came, boy ! What a lot 
you think ! 

(Medium came-to, breathing and struggling. 
Said he had been under very deep like 
coming-to after an anaesthetic.) 


Lady Lodge impressed me considerably with the 
genuine and deeply affecting character of the above episode 
of personal control. It was evidently difficult to get over 
for the rest of the day. I doubt if the bare record con- 
veys much : though it may to people of like experience. 



IT may be asked why I report so much of what may be 
called ordinary conversation, instead of abbreviating 
and concentrating on specific instances and definite 
statements of fact. I reply : 

1. That a concentrated version is hard to read, while a 
fuller version is really less tedious in spite of its greater 
length. A record is always a poor substitute for actual 
experience ; and too much abbreviation might destroy 
whatever relic of human interest the records possess. 

2. That abbreviation runs the risk of garbling and 
amending ; it is undesirable in reports of this kind to 
amend style at the expense of accuracy. 

3. That the mannerisms and eccentricities of a 
' control ' (or secondary personality) are interesting, and 
may be instructive ; at any rate they exhibit to a novice 
the kind of thing to be expected. 

4. A number of inquirers want to know and I think 
properly want to knowwhat a sitting is like, what kind 
of subjects are talked about, what the ' communicators ' 
i.e. the hypothetical personalities who send messages 
through the ' control ' have to say about their own 
feelings and interests and state of existence generally. 
Hence, however the record be interpreted, it seems better 
to quote some specimens fully. 

5. I am aware that some of the records may appear 
absurd. Especially absurd will appear the free-and- 
easy statements, quoted later, about the nature of 
things ' on the other side/ the kind of assertions which 
are not only unevidential but unverifiable, and which we 
usually either discourage or suppress. I have stated 


elsewhere my own reasons lor occasionally encouraging 
statements of this kind and quoting them as they stand. 
(See beginning of Chapter XVI.) And though I admit 
that to publish them is probably indiscreet, 1 still think 
that the evidence, such as it is, ought to be presented as 
a whole. 

6. The most evidential class of utterance, what we call 
cross-correspondence, is not overlooked ; and while every 
now and then it occurs naturally and spontaneously, 
sometimes an effort is made to obtain it. 


It will be convenient to explain that by the term " cross- 
correspondence >J is meant the obtaining through two or more 
independent mediums, at about the same time, a message from a 
single communicator on any one definite subject. 

It is usually impossible for the coincidence of time to be exact, 
because both mediums may not be sitting at the same time. But 
in some cases, wherein coincidence of subject is well marked, 
coincidence in time is of little moment ; always provided that the 
subject is really an out-of-the-way or far-fetched one, and not on 
common to every English-speaking person, like Kitchener or 
Roberts or Jellicoe. 

Cross- correspondences are of various grades. The simplest 
kind is when two mediums both use the same exceptional word, or 
both refer to the same non-public event, without any normal reason 
that can be assigned. Another variety is when, say, three 
mediums refer to one and the same idea in different terms, em- 
ploying, for instance, different languages, like ' mors,' 'death,' and 
'thanatos.' (SccProc., S.P.R., xxii. 295-304.) Another is when the 
idea is thoroughly masked and brought' in only by some quota- 
tion perhaps by a quotation the special significance of which is 
unknown to the medium who reproduces it, and is only detected 
and interpreted by a subsequent investigator to whom all the 
records are submitted. Sometimes a quotation is maltreated, 
evidently with intention by the communicator ; the important 
word to which attention is being directed being either omitted 
or changed. 

A large number of examples of this more complex kind of 
cross-correspondence are reported at length in the Proceedings of 
the Society for Psychical Research ; see especially vol. xxi. p. 369 
and xxii. passim, or a briefer statement in Survival of Man, 
chap. xxv. 

Some of these instances as expounded by Mr. Piddington may 
seem extraordinarily complicated and purposely concealed. That 
is admitted. They are specially designed to eliminate the possi- 
bility of unintended and unconscious telep-athy direct from one 
medium to another, and to throw the investigator back on what is 


asserted to be the truth, namely that the mind of one single com- 
municator, or the combined mind of a group of communicators, 
all men of letters, is sending carefully designed messages through 
different channels, in order to prove primarily the reality of the 
operating intelligence, and incidentally the genuineness of the 
mediums who are capable of receiving and transmitting frag- 
ments of messages so worded as to appear to each of them 
separately mere meaningless jargon ; though ultimately when all 
the messages are put together by a skilled person the meaning is 
luminous enough. Moreover, we are assured that the puzzles and 
hidden allusions contained in these messages are not more difficult 
than literary scholars are accustomed to ; that, indeed, they are 
precisely of similar order 

This explanation is unnecessary for the simple cross-corre- 
spondences (c.c.) sometimes obtained and reported here ; but the 
subject itself is an important one, and is not always understood 
even by investigators, so I take this opportunity of referring to it 
in order to direct the attention of those who need stucter evidence 
to more profitable records. 


Returning to the kind of family records here given, in 
which evidence is sporadic rather than systematic though 
none the less effective, one of the minor points, which 
yet is of interest, is the appropriate way in which different 
youths greet their relatives. Thus, while Paul calls his 
father * Daddy ' and his mother by pet names, as he 
used to ; and while Raymond calls us simply ' Father ' 
and ' Mother/ as he used to ; another youth named Ralph 
an athlete who had fallen after splendid service in the 
war greeted his father, when at length that gentleman 
was induced to attend a sitting, with the extraordinary 
salutation " Ullo 'Erb ! ", spelt out as one word through 
the table ; though, to the astonishment of the medium, 
it was admitted to be consistent and evidential. The 
ease and freedom with which this Ralph managed to 
communicate are astonishing, and I am tempted to 
add as an appendix some records which his family have 
kindly allowed me to see, but I refrain, as they have 
nothing to do with Raymond. 


ON the 29th of October I had a sitting with Peters 
alone, unknown to the family, who I felt sure were 
still sceptical concerning the whole subject. It 
was arranged for, as an anonymous sitting, by my friend 
Mr. J. Arthur Hill of Bradford. The things said were 
remarkable, and distinctly pointed to clairvoyance. I 
am doubtful about reporting more than a few lines, how- 
ever. There was a great deal that might be taken as 
encouraging and stimulating, intermixed with the more 
evidential portions. A small part of this sitting is already 
reported in Chapter III, and might now be read by 
anyone interested in the historical sequence. 

A few unimportant opening lines I think it necessary to 
report, because of their connexion with another sitting : 

Anonymous 0. J. L. Sitting with A. Vout Peters at 15 
Devereux Court, Fleet Street, on Friday, 29 October 
1915, from 10.30 to 11.45 a.m. 

(Sitter only spoken of as a friend of Mr. Hill) * 

PETERS. Before we begin, I must say something : 1 feel 
that I have a certain fear of you, I don't know what 
it is, but you affect me in a most curious way. I 
must tell you the honest truth before I am con- 
trolled. . . . 

[Whatever this may mean it corresponds with 
what was said at the previous M. F. A. L. 
Sitting, p. 132, though M. F. A. L. had sat 
as a friend of Mrs. Kennedy in her house, 

1 Whether it be assumed that I was known or not, does not much 
matter ; but I have no reason to suppose that I was. Rather the 
contrary. Peters seems barely to look at his sitters, and to be anxious 
to receive no normal information. 



and I sat as a friend of Mr. Hill in Peters's 
room, and no sort of connexion was indicated 
between us.] 

(Soon afterwards the medium twitched, snapped 
his fingers, and began to speak as ' Moon- 
stone ' : ) 

" I come to speak to you, but I must get my 
Medie deep ; we get superficial control first, and 
then go deeper and deeper ; with your strong 
personality you frighten him a little ; I find a little 
fear in the medium. . . . You bring with you a 
tremendous amount of work and business/' etc. 

Now I get a new influence : an old lady, 
medium height, rounded face ; light eyes ; grey 
hair ; small nose ; lips somewhat thin, or held 
together as suppressed ; a lady with very strong 
will ; tremendously forcible she is. She passed 
away after leading a very active life. . . . 

She's a very good woman. It is not the first 
time she has come back. She tells me to tell you 
that they are all here. ALL. Because they are 
trying to reach out to you their love and sympathy 
at the present occasion, and they are thanking 
you both for the opportunity of getting back to 
you. " We are trying all we can also to bring him 
back to you, to let you realise that your faith, 
which you have held as a theory " it is curious, 
but she wants me to say her message word for 
word " as a theory for years, shall be justified/' 
Then she rejoices . . . (and refers to religious 
matters, etc.). [This clearly suggested the relative 
whose first utterance of this kind is reported so 
long ago as 1889 in Proc., S.P.R., vi. 468 and 470.] 
Now she brings up a young man from the back. 
I must explain what we mean by ' the back ' some 
o. j. L. But I understand. 

He is of medium height ; somewhat light eyes ; 
the face browned somewhat ; fairly long nose ; the 
lips a little full ; nice teeth. He is standing pretty 

Look here, I know this man ! And it is not 


the first time he has been to us. Now he smiles, 
'cos 1 recsonise him [so pronounced], but he comes 
back very, very strongly. He tells me that he is 
pushing the door open wider. Now he wants me 
to give you a message. He is going to try to come 
down with you ; because it looks to me as though 
you are travelling to-day. " Down/' he says. 
" I come down with you. We will try" (he says 
' we/ not * I '), " we will try to bring our united 
power to prove to you that I am here ; I and the 
other young man who helped me, and who will 
help me." 

[The association of Raymond with ' another 
young man/ and his intention to come ' down * 
with me when I travelled back home on the 
same day to meet Mrs. Kennedy there, are 
entirely appropriate. O. J. L.] 
Look here, it is your boy ! Because he calls 
3 7 ou ' Father ' ; not ' Pa/ nor anything, but 
' Father/ [True.] 
O. j. L. Yes, my son. 

Wait a minute ; now he wants to tell me one 
thing : " I am so glad that you took such a 
common-sense view of the subject, and that you 
didn't force it on mother. Bui you spoke of it as 
an actuality. She treated it like she treats all your 
things that she couldn't understand ; giving you, 
as she always has done, the credit of being more 
clever than herself. But when I came over as I 
did, and in her despair, she came to you for help ; 
but she wanted to get away from anything that 
you should influence/ 1 

[Unfortunately, some one knocked at the door 
a servant probably, wanting to come in 
and clear the room. The medium jerked 
and said, " Tell thorn to go away/' I called 
out, " Can't come in now, private, engaged/' 
Some talking continued outside for a little 
time very likely it was some one wanting 
an interview with Peters. After a time the 
disturbance ceased. It was not very loud ; 
the medium ignored it, except for the rather 


loud and strong knock, which certainly 
perturbed him.] 
Tell me where 1 was. 
(I repeated : " She wanted to get away from 

anything that you should influence/') 
Oh yes. He wants to say that you were quite 
right in staying away and letting her work alto- 
gether by herself. She was able to do better than 
if you had been there. You would have spoilt it. 
Your common-sense method of approaching the 
subject in the family has been the means of help- 
ing him to come back as he has been able to do ; 
and had he not known what you had told him, 
then it would have been far more difficult for him 
to come back. He is very deliberate in what he 
says. He is a young man that knows what he is 

Do you know F. W. M. ? 
o. j. L. Yes, I do. 

[The next portion, relating to Myers, has 
been already reported in Chapter III ; and 
the concluding portion, which is rather 
puzzling, shall be suppressed, as it relates 
to other people.] 

Towards the end * Moonstone ' began talking about 
himself, which he does in an interesting manner, and I 
shall perhaps give him an opportunity of saying more 
about the assumption of ' control ' from his point of view. 
Meanwhile I quote this further extract : 


Have you been suffering inside ? 

O. J. L.- No, not that I kx ovv of. 

Your heart's been bleeding. You never thought you 
could love so deep. There must be more or less suffering. 
Even though you are crucified, you will arise the stronger, 
bigger, better man. But out of this suffering and cruci- 
fixion, oh, how you are going to help humanity I This is a 
big work. It has been prophesied. It is through the 
sufferings of humanity that humanity is reached. It 
must be through pain. Let me tell you something about 
myself. I was Yogi do you understand ? 

O. J. L. Yes ; a kind of hermit. 



I lived a selfish life : a good life, but a selfish one, 
though I didn't know it then. I isolated myself and did 
not mix with people, not even with family life. When I go 
over, I find it was a negative goodness, so then I wanted 
to help humanity, because I hadn't helped it. I had not 
taken on the sufferings even of a family man. It was use- 
less. And so that is why I came back to my Medie, and try 
to bear through him the sorrows of the world. It is through 
suffering that humanity is helped. That is one great thing 
in your beautiful religion ; you know what I mean the 
sacrifice of Jesus. He demonstrated eternity, but to do it 
He must be sacrificed and taste death. So all who teach the 
high . . . must tread the same path ; there's no escaping 
the crucifixion, it comes in one way or another. And you 
must remember, back in the past, when the good things 
came to you, how you began to realise (?) that there was a 
spirit world and a possibility of coming back. Though you 
speak cautiously, yet possibly in your prayers to God you 
say, " Let me suffer, let me know my cross, so that I can 
benefit humanity " ; and when you make a compact with 
the unseen world, it is kept. You have told no one this, 
but it belongs to you and to your son. Out of it will come 
much joy, much happiness to others. 

Mr. Stead was, I understand, a friend to Peters, and 
how much of the above is tinged by Mr. Stead's influence, 
I cannot say : but immediately afterwards his name was 
mentioned, in the following way : 

Flashing down the line comes a message from Mr. 
Stead. I can't help it, I must give it. He says : " We 
did not see eye to eye ; you thought I was too impetuous 
and too rash, but our conclusions are about the same now. 
We are pretty well on a level, and I have realised, even 
through mistakes, that I have reached and influenced a 
world that is suffering and sorrowing. But you have a 
world bigger and wider than mine, and your message will 
be bigger and will reach farther." 


As far as evidence is concerned, Peters has done well 
at each of the three sittings any member of my family has 
had with him since Raymond's death. On the whole, I 
think he has done as well as any medium ; especially as 
the abstention from supplying him normally with any 
identifying information has been strict. 

It is true that I have not, through Peters, asked test 
questions of which the answers were unknown to me, as I 


did at one sitting with Mrs . Leonard (Chapter IX) . But the 
answers there given, though fairly good, and in my view 
beyond chance, were not perfect. Under the circumstances 
I think they could hardly have been expected to be perfect. 
It was little more than a month since the death, and new 
experiences and serious surroundings must have been 
crowding in upon the youth, so that old semi-frivolous 
reminiscences were difficult to recall. There was, however, 
with Peters no single incident so striking as the name 
' Norman/ to me unknown and meaningless, which was 
given in perfectly appropriate connexion through the 
table at Mrs. Leonard's. 


AT length, on 17 November 1915, Raymond's 
brother Lionel (L. L.) went to London to see if he 
could get an anonymous sitting with Mrs. Leonard, 
without the intervention of Mrs. Kennedy or anybody. 
He was aware that by that time the medium must have 
sat with dozens of strangers and people not in any way 
connected with our family, and fortunately he succeeded 
in getting admitted as a complete stranger. This there- 
fore is worth reporting, and the contemporary record 
follows. A few portions are omitted, partly for brevity, 
partly because private, but some non-evidential and what 
may seem rather absurd statements are reproduced, for 
what they are worth. It must be understood that Feda 
is speaking throughout, and that she is sometimes report- 
ing in the third person, sometimes in the first, and some- 
times speaking for herself. It is unlikely that lucidity 
is constant all the time, and Feda may have to do some 
padding. She is quite good and fairly careful, but of 
course, like all controls, she is responsible for certain 
mannerisms, and in her case for childishly modified 
names like ' Paulie/ etc. The dramatic circumstances 
of a sitting will be familiar to people of experience. The 
record tries to reproduce them probably with but poor 
success. And it is always possible that the attempt, 
however conscientious, may furnish opportunity for 
ridicule, if any hostile critic thinks ridicule appropriate. 

L. L.'s Sitting with Mrs. Leonard at her house, as a 
stranger, no one else being present, 12 o'clock, Wednes- 
day, 17 November 1915 


Lionel wrote to Mrs. Leonard at her old address in Warwick 
Avenue, for I had forgotten that she had moved, and I had not 

1 80 


told him her new address. He wrote on plain paper from West- 
minster without signing it, saying that he would be coming at a 
certain time. But she did not get the letter ; so that, when he 
arrived about noon on Wednesday, 17 November, he arrived as a 
complete stranger without an appointment. He had at first 
gone to the wrong house and been redirected. Mrs. Leonard 
answered the door. She took him in at once when he said he 
wanted a sitting. She drew the blind down, and lit a red lamp as 
usual. She told him that she was controlled by ' Feda.' Very 
quickly in about two minutes the trance began, and Feda 

Here follows his record : 

Subsequent annotations, in square brackets, are by 0. J. L. 

Good morning ! 

Why, you are psychic yourself ! 
L. L. I didn't know I was. 

It will come out later. 

There are two spirits standing by you ; the elder 
is fully built up, but the younger is not clear yet. 

The elder is on the tall side, and well built ; he 
has a beard round his chin, but no moustache. 

(This seemed to worry Feda, and she repeated 
it several times, as if trying to make it clear.) 

A beard round chin, and hair at the sides, but 
upper lip shaved. A good forehead, eyebrows heavy 
and rather straight not arched eyes greyish ; 
hair thin on top, and grey at the sides and back. 
It looks as if it had been brown before it went grey. 
A fine-looking face. He is building up something. 
He suffered here before he passed out (medium 
indicating chest or stomach). Letter W is held 
up. (See photograph facing p. 258.) 

[This is the one that to other members of the 
family had been called Grandfather W., 

P- I43-] 

There is another spirit. 
Somebody is laughing. 
Don't joke it is serious. 
(This was whispered, and sounded as if said to 

some one else, not to me.) 
It's a young man, about twenty-three, or 


might he twenty-five, judging only by appearance. 
Tall ; well-built ; not stout, well-built ; brown hair, 
short at the sides and back ; clean shaven ; face 
more oval than round ; nose not quite straight, 
rather rounded, and broader at the nostrils. 
(Whispering.) Feda can't see his face. 
(Then clearly.) He won't let Feda see his face ; 
he is laughing. 

(Whispered several times.) L, L, L. 
(Then said out loud.) L. This is not his name ; 
he puts it by you. 

(Whispering again.) Feda knows him Ray- 

Oh, it's Raymond ! 

(The medium here jumps about, and fidgets with 
her hands, just as a child would when pleased.) 
That is why he would not show his face, 
because Feda would know him. 

He is patting you on the shoulder hard. You 
can't feel it, but he thinks he is hitting you hard,. 
[It seems to have been a trick of his to pat a 
brother on the shoulder gradually harder and 
harder till humorous retaliation set in.] 
He is very bright. 

This is the way it is given it's an impression. 
He has been trying to come to you at home, but 
there has been some horrible mix-ups ; not really 
horrible, but a muddle. He really got through 
to you, but other conditions get through there, 
and mixes him up. 

[This evidently refers to some private ' Marie- 
mont' sittings, without a medium, with 
which neither Feda nor Mrs. Leonard had 
had anything to do. It therefore shows 
specific knowledge and is of the nature 
of a mild cross-correspondence ; cf . p. 217.] 
L. L. How can we improve it ? 

He does not understand it sufficiently himself 
yet. Other spirits get in, not bad spirits, but 
ones that like to feel they are helping. The 
peculiar manifestations are not him, and it only 
confuses him terribly. Part of it was him, but 


when the table was careering about, it was not 
him at all. He started it, but something comes 
along stronger than himself, and he loses the 

(Whispered.) Feda, can't you suggest some- 
thing ? " 

[This seemed to be a reported part of conversa- 
tion on the other side.] 

Be very firm when it starts to move about. 

Prayer helps when things are not relevant. 

He is anxious about F. 
L. L. I don't know who F. is. Is it some friend ? 

(Medium here fidgets.) 

Letter F. all right ; it's some one he is interested 

He says he is sorry he worried his mother 
about [an incident mentioned at some previous 
L. L. Was it a mistake ? 

Yes, tell her, because (etc. etc.). When I 
thought it over I knew it was a mistake. If 
it had been now, and I had a little more ex- 
perience in control, I should not have said so; 
but it was at the beginning everything seemed 
such a rush and I was not quite sure of what 
I did get through. He did not look at things 

in the right pers perpec 

L. L. Perspective ? 

Yes, that's what he said. 

Do you follow me, old chap ? 
L. L. Perfectly. 

L. L. Do you remember a sitting at home when you 
told me you had a lot to tell me ? 

Yes. What he principally wanted to say was 
about the place he is in. He could not spell it all 
out too laborious. He felt rather upset at first. 
You do not feel so real as people do where he is, and 
walls appear transparent to him now. The great 
thing that made him reconciled to his new surround- 
ings was that things appear so solid and sub- 
stantial. The first idea upon waking up was, I 
suppose, of what they call ' passing over/ It was 


only for a second or two, as you count time, [that 
it seemed a] shadowy vague place, everything 
vapoury and vague. He had that feeling about it. 

The first person to meet him was Grandfather. 

(This was said very carefully, as if trying to get 
it right with difficulty.) 

And others then, some of whom he had only 
heard about. They all appeared to be so solid, that 
he could scarcely believe that he had passed over. 

He lives in a house a house built of bricks and 
there are trees and flowers, and the ground is solid. 
And if you kneel down in the mud, apparently you 
get your clothes soiled. The thing I don't under- 
stand yet is that the night doesn't follow the day 
here, as it did on the earth plane. It seems to get 
dark sometimes, when he would like it to be dark, 
but the time in between light and dark is not always 
the same. I don't know if you think all this is a 

(I was here thinking whether my pencils would 
last out ; I had two, and was starting on the 
second one.) 

What I am worrying round about is, how it's 
made, of what it is composed. I have not found 
out yet, but I've got a theory. It is not an original 
idea of my own ; I was helped to it by words let 
drop here and there. 

People who think everything is created by 
thought are wrong. I thought that for a little time, 
that one's thoughts formed the buildings and the 
flowers and trees and solid ground ; but there is more 
than that. 

He says something of this sort : 

[This means that Feda is going to report in the 
third person again, or else to speak for 
herself. O. J. L.] 

There is something always rising from the earth 
plane something chemical in form. As it rises to 
ours, it goes through various changes and solidifies 
on our plane. Of course I am only speaking of 
where I am now. 

He feels sure that it is something given off 


from the earth, that makes the solid trees and 
flowers, etc. 

He does not know any more. He is making 
a study of this, but it takes a good long time. 
L. L. I should like to know whether he can get into 
touch with anybody on earth ? 

Not always. 

Only those wishing to see him, and who it 
would be right for him to see. Then he sees them 
before he has thought. 

I don't seem to wish for anything. 

He does not wish to see anybody unless they 
are going to be brought to him. 

I am told that I can meet anyone at any time 
that I want to ; there is no difficulty in the way of 
it. That is what makes it such a jolly fine place 
to live in. 
L. L. Can he help people here ? 

That is part of his work, but there are others 
doing that ; the greatest amount of his work is 
still at the war. 

I've been home only likely I've been home 
but my actual work is at the war. 

He has something to do with father, though 
his work still lies at the war, helping on poor 
chaps literally shot into the spirit world. 
L. L. Can you see ahead at all ? 

He thinks sometimes that he can, but it's not 
easy to predict. 

I don't think that I really know any more 
than when on earth. 

L. L. Can you tell anything about how the war is going 
on ? 

There are better prospects for the war. On 
all sides now more satisfactory than it has been 

This is not apparent on the earth plane, but 
I feel more . . . the surface, and more satisfied 
than before. 

I can't help feeling intensely interested. I 
believe we have lost Greece, and am not sure 
that it was not due to our own fault. We have 


only done now what should have been done 
months ago. 

He does not agree about Serbia. Having left 
them so long has had a bad effect upon Roumania. 
Roumania thinks will she be in the same boat, if 
she joins in. 

All agree that Russia will do well right through 
the winter. They are going to show what they 
can do. They are used to their ground and winter 
conditions, and Germany is not. There will be 
steady progress right through the winter. 

I think there is something looming now. 

Some of the piffling things I used to be inter- 
ested in, I have forgotten all about. There is such 
a lot to be interested in here. I realise the 
seriousness sometimes of this war. ... It is like 
watching a most interesting race or game gradually 
developing before you. I am doing v ork in it, 
which is not so interesting as watchmg. 
L. L. Have you any message for home ? 

Of course love to his mother, and to all, speci- 
ally to mother. H. is doing very well. [Meaning 
his sister Honor.] 
L. L. In what way ? 

H. is helping him in a psychic way ; she makes it 
easy for him. He doesn't think he need tell father 
anything, he is so certain in himself meaning 
Raymond, in spite of silly mistakes. It disappoints 
him. We must separate out the good from the 
bad, and not try more than one form; not the 

L. L. I know ; jigger. [A kind of Ouija.] 

No. He didn't like the jigger. He thinks he 
can work the table. [See Chapter XIX.] 

L. L. Would you tell me how I could help in any way? 

Just go very easily, only let one person speak, 
as he has said before. It can be H. or L. L. Settle 
on one person to put the questions, the different 
sound of voices confuses him, and he mixes it up 
with questions from another's thoughts. In time 
he hopes it will be not so difficult. He wouldn't 
give it up, he loves it. Don't try more than twice 


a week, perhaps only once a week. Try to keep the 
same times always, and to the same day if possible. 

He is going. 

Give my love to them all. Tell them I am very 
happy. Very well, and plenty to do, and intensely 
interested. I did suffer from shock at first, but I'm 
extremely happy now. 

I'm off. He won't say good-bye. 

A lady comes too : A girl, about medium 
height ; on the slender side, not thin, but slender ; 
face, oval shape ; blue eyes ; lightish brown hair, 
not golden. 

L. L. Can she give a name I cannot guess who she is 
from the description ? 

She builds up an L. 

Not like the description when she was on earth. 
Very little earth life. She is related to you. She 
has grown up in the spirit life. 

Oh, she is your sister ! 

She is fair ; not so tall as you ; a nice face ; blue 

L. L. I know her name now. [See at a previous sitting 
where this deceased sister is described, p. 159.] 

Give her love to them at home, but also princi- 
pally to mother. And say that she and her brother, 
not Raymond, have been also to the sittings at 

She is giving his name. She gives it in such a 

funny way, as if she was writing, so She 

wrote an N, then quickly changed it into a W. 
[See also pp. 134, 159, and 190.] 

She brings lilies with her ; she is singing it's 
like humming ; Feda can't hear the words. 

She is going too power is going. 
T-. L. Give my love to her. 

Feda sends her love also. 

Raymond was having a joke by not showing his 
face to Feda. 


(Sitting ended at 1.30 p.m.) 


Friday, November 26, 1915 

A FEW things may be reported from a sitting which 
Lady Lodge had with Mrs. Leonard on 26 November, 
however absurd they may seem. They are of course 
repeated by the childish control Feda, but I do not by that 
statement of bare fact intend to stigmatise them in any 
way. Criticism of unverifiablo utterances seems to me 

The sitting began without preliminaries as usual. It 
is not a particularly good one, and the notes are rather 
incomplete, especially near the end of the time, when Feda 
seemed to wander from the point, and when rather tedious 
descriptions of people began. These arc omitted. 

Sitting of M. F. A. L. with Mrs. Leonard at her house on 

Friday, 26 November 1915, from 3 to 4.30 p.m. 

(No one else present.) 

(The sitting began with a statement from Feda that she 
liked Lionel, and that Raymond had taken her down 
to his home. Then she reported that Raymond 
said : ) 

" Mother darling, I am so happy, and so much 
more so because you are." 

M. F. A. L. Yes, we are ; and as your father says, we can 
face Christmas now. 

Raymond says he will be there. 
M. F. A. L. We will put a chair for him. 
Yes, he will come and sit in it. 
He wants to strike a bargain with you. He 



says, " If I come there, there must be no sadness. 
I don't want to be a ghost at the feast. There 
mustn't be one sigh. Please, darling, keep them 
in order, rally them up. Don't let them. If they 
do, I shall have the hump/* (Feda, sotto voce. 
' hump,' what he say.) 

M. F. A. L. We will all drink his health and happiness. 
Yes, you can think I am wishing you health too. 

M. F. A. L. We were interested in hearing about his 
clothes and things ; we can't think how he gets 
them ! [The reference is to a second sitting of 
Lionel, not available for publication.] 

They are all man-u-fac-tured. [Feda stumbling 
over long words.] 

Can you fancy you see me in white robes ? 
Mind, I didn't care for them at first, and I wouldn't 
wear them. Just like a fellow gone to a country 
where there is a hot climate an ignorant fellow, 
not knowing what he is going to ; it's just like that. 
He may make u-p his mind to wear his own clothes 
a little while, but he will soon be dressing like the 
natives. He was allowed to have earth clothes 
here until he got acclimatised ; they let him ; they 
didn't force him. I don't think I will ever be able 
to make the boys see me in white robes. 
Mother, don't go doing too much. 

M. F. A. L. I am very strong. 

You think you are, but you tire yourself out 
too much. It troubles me. 

M. F. A. L. Yes, but I should be quite glad to come over 
there, if I could come quickly, even though I am 
so happy here, and I don't want to leave people. 

Don't you think I would be glad to have you 
here ! If you do what he says, you will come over 
when the time comes quick, sharp. 

He says he comes and sees you in bed. The 
reason for that is the air is so quiet then. You 
often go up there in the spirit-land while your body 
is asleep. 

M. F. A. L. Would you like us to sit on the same night 
as Mrs. Kennedy sits, or on different nights ? 
[Meaning in trials for cross-correspondences.] 


On the same night, as it wastes less time. Be- 
sides, he forgets, if there is too long an interval. He 
wants to get something of the same sort to each 

William and Lily come to play with Raymond. 
Lily had gone on, but came back to be with 
Raymond. [These mean his long-deceased infant 
brother and sister.] 

(More family talk omitted.) 

Get some sittings soon, so as to get into full 
swing by Christmas. Tell them when they get him 
through, and he says, " Raymond/' tell them to go 
very easily, and not to ask too many questions. 
Questions want thinking out beforehand. They are 
not to talk among themselves, because then they get 
part of one thing and part of another. And n<3 
say, " No, don't ask him that," or he gets 

Do you know we sometimes have to prej 
answers a little before we transmit them ; it Is 
sort of mental effort to give answers through the 
table. When they say, do you ask, we begin to 
get ready to speak through the table. Write dowr 
a few questions and keep to them. 



AT a sitting which I had with Mrs. Leonard on 
3 December 1915, information was given about 
the photograph as already reported, Chapter IV. 
lA all these ' Feda ' sittings, the remarks styled sotto 
voce repiesent conversation between Feda and the 
communicator, not addressed to the sitter at all. I 
always try to record these scraps when I can overhear 
them ; for they are often interesting, and sometimes 
better than what is subsequently reported as the result 
of the brief conversation. For she appears to be uttering 
under her breath not only her own question or comment, 
but also what she is being told ; and sometimes names 
are in that way mentioned correctly, when afterwards 
she muddles them. For instance, on one occasion she 
said sotto voce, " What you say ? Rowland ? " (in a 
clear whisper) ; and then, aloud, " He says something 
like Ronald/' Whereas in this case 'Rowland' proved 
to be correct. The dramatically childlike character of 
Feda seems to carry with it a certain amount of childish 
irresponsibility. Raymond says that he " has to talk to 
her seriously about it sometimes." 

A few other portions, not about the photograph, 
are included in the record of this sitting, some of a 
very non-evidential and perhaps ridiculous kind, but I 
do not feel inclined to suppress them. (For reasons, see 
Chapter XII.) Some of them are rather amusing. Un- 
verifiable statements have hitherto been generally sup- 
pressed, in reporting Piper and other sittings ; but here, 
in deference partly to the opinion of Professor Bergson 


who when he was in England urged that statements 
about life on the other side, properly studied, like 
travellers' tales, might ultimately furnish proof more 
logically cogent than was possible from mere access 
to earth memories they are for the most part repro- 
duced. I should think, myself, that they are of very 
varying degrees of value, and peculiarly liable to un- 
intentional sophistication by the medium. They 
cannot be really satisfactory, as we have no means of 
bringing them to book. The difficulty is that Feda 
encounters many sitters, and though the majority are 
just inquirers, taking what comes and saying very 
little, one or two may be themselves full of theories, 
and may either intentionally or unconsciously convey 
them to the ' control ' ; who may thereafter retail them 
as actual information, without perhaps being sure whence 
they were derived. Some books, moreover, have been 
published of late, purporting to give information about 
ill-understood things in a positive and assured manner, 
and it is possible that the medium has read these and 
may be influenced by them. It will be regrettable 
if these books are taken as authoritative by people 
unable to judge of the scientific errors which are con- 
spicuous in their more normal portions; and the books 
themselves seem likely to retard the development of the 
subject in the minds of critical persons. 

Sitting with Mrs. Leonard at her House on Friday, 
3 December 1915, from 6.10 p.m. to 8.20 p.m. 

(O. J. L. alone.) 

This is a long record, because I took verbatim notes, but 1 
propose to inflict it M upon the reader, in accordance with 
Promise to report unverifiable and possibly absurd matter, 
just as it comes, and even to encourage it. 

Feda soon arrived, said good evening, jerked about 
on the chair, and squeaked or chuckled, after her manner 
when indicating pleasure. Then, without preliminaries, 
she spoke : 

He is waiting ; he's looking very pleased. He's 
awful anxious to tell you about the place where 


he lives ; he doesn't understand yet how it looks 
so solid. (Cf . p. 184.) 

(Feda, sotto voce. What you say ? Yes, Feda 
knows.) He's been watching lately different kinds 
of people what come over, and the different kinds 
of effect it has on them. 

Oh, it is interesting, he says much more than 
on the old earth plane. I didn't want to 
leave you and mother and all of them, but it 
is interesting. I wish you could come over for 
one day, and be with me here. There are times 
you do go there, but you won't remember. They 
have all been over with him at night-time, and so 
have you, but he thought it very hard you couldn't 
remember. If you did, he is told (he doesn't 
know it himself, but he is told this), the brain 
would scarcely bear the burden of the double 
existence, and would be unfitted for its daily 
duties ; so the memory is shut out. That is 
the explanation given to him. 

(Feda, sotto voce. What, Raymond ? Al lee, 
he says, Al lee, Al lee.) 

He keeps on saying something about Alec. 
He has been trying to get to Alec, to communicate 
with him ; and he couldn't see if he made himself 
felt whether he really got through. 

(The medium hitherto had been holding 
O. J. L.'s left hand ; here she let go, Feda 
saying : He will let you have your own 
hand back.) 

He thought he had got into a bedroom, and 
that he knocked ; but there wasn't much notice 
o. j. L. Alec must come here sometime. 1 

Yes, he wanted to see him. 

And he also hopes to be able to talk to Lionel 
with the direct voice ; not here, he says, but 
somewhere else. He is very anxious to speak 
to him. Through a chap, he says, a direct voice 
o. J. L. Very well, I will take the message. 

1 Alec had had a sitting with Peters, not with Mrs. Leonard. 



Well, he says, he wants to try once or twice. 
He wants to be able to say what he says to Feda 
in another way. He thinks he could get through 
in his own home sometime. He would much rather 
have it there. And he thinks that if he got through 
once or twice with direct voice, he might be able 
to do better in his own home. H. is psychic, he 
says, but he is afraid of hurting her ; he doesn't 
want to take too much from her. But he really is 
going to get through. He really has got through 
at home ; but silly spirits wanted to have a game. 
There wa? a strange feeling there ; he didn't seem 
to know how much he was doing himself, so he stood 
aside part of the time. [Mariemont sittings are 
reported later. Chapter XIX.] 
Then the photograph episode came, as reported in 

Chapter IV. 

Then it went on (Feda talking, of course, all the 

time) : 

He says he has been trying to go to somebody, 
and see somebody he used to know. He's not 
related to them, and the name begins with S. It's 
a gentleman, he says, and he can't remember, or 
can't tell Feda the name, but it begins with S. He 
was trying to get to them, but is not sure that he 

o. j. L. Did he want to ? 

He says it was only curiosity ; but he likes to 
feel that he can look up anybody. But he says, if 
they take no notice, I shall give up soon, only I just 
like to see what it feels like to be looking at them 
from where 1 I am. 

o. j. L. Does he want to say anything more about his 
house or his clothes or his body 7 

Oh yes. He is bursting to tell you. 
He says, my body's very similar to the one I 
had before. I pinch myself sometimes to see if it's 
real, and it is, but it doesn't seem to hurt as much 
as when I pinched the flesh body. The internal 
organs don't seem constituted on the same lines as 
before. They can't be quite the same. But to all 
appearances, and outwardly, they are the same as 


before. I can move somewhat more freely, he 

Oh, there's one thing, he says, I have never 
seen anybody bleed. 

o. j. L. Wouldn't he bleed if he pricked himself ? 

He never tried it. But as yet he has seen no 
blood at all. 

o. j. L. Has he got ears and eyes ? 

Yes, yes, and eyelashes, and eyebrows, exactly 
the same, and a tongue and teeth. He has got a 
new tooth now in place of another one he had one 
that wasn't quite right then. He has got it right, 
and a good tooth has come in place of the one 
that had gone. 

He knew a man that had lost his arm, but he 
has got another one. Yes, he has got two arms 
now. He seemed as if without a limb when first he 
entered the astral, seemed incomplete, but after a 
while it got more and more complete, until he got 
a new one. He is talking of people who have lost 
a limb for some years. 

o. J. L. What about a limb lost in battle ? 

Oh, if they have only just lost it, it makes 
no difference, it doesn't matter ; they are quite all 
right when they get here. But I am told he 
doesn't know this himself, but he has been told 
that when anybody's blown to pieces, it takes some 
time for the spirit-body to complete itself, to gather 
itself all in, and to be complete. It dissipated a 
certain amount of substance which is undoubtedly 
theric, theric etheric, and it has to be concen- 
trated again. The spirit isn't blown apart, of 
course, he doesn't mean that, but it has an effect 
upon it. He hasn't seen all this, but he has been 
inquiring because he is interested. 

o. j. L. What about bodies that are burnt ? 

Oh, if they get burnt by accident, if they know 
about it on this side, they detach the spirit first. 
What we call a spirit-doctor comes round and helps. 
But bodies should not be burnt on purpose. We 
have terrible trouble sometimes over people who 
are cremated too soon ; they shouldn't be. It's a 


terrible thing ; it has worried me. People are so 
careless. The idea seems to be " hurry up and 
get them out of the way now that they are dead." 
Not until seven days, he says. They shouldn't be 
cremated for seven days. 

o. j. L. But what if the body goes bad ? 

When it goes bad, the spirit is already out. If 
that much (indicating a trifle) of spirit is left in the 
body, it doesn't start mortifying. It is the action 
of the spirit on the body that keeps it from mortify- 
ing. When you speak about a person ' dying up- 
wards/ it means that the spirit is getting ready and 
gradually getting out of the body. He saw the 
other day a man going to be cremated two days 
after the doctor said he was dead. When his rela- 
tions on this side heard about it, they brought a 
certain doctor on our side, and when they saw that 
the spirit hadn't got really out of the body, they 
magnetised it, and helped it out. But there was 
still a cord, and it had to be severed rather quickly, 
and it gave a little shock to the spirit, like as if you 
had something amputated ; but it had to be done. 
He believes it has to be done in every case. If the 
body is to be consumed by fire, it is helped out by 
spirit-doctors. He doesn't mean that a spirit-body 
comes out of its own body, but an essence comes 
out of the body oozes out, he bays, and goes into 
the other body which is being prepared. Oozes, 
he says, like in a string. String, that's what he say. 
Then it seems to shape itself, or something meets it 
and shapes round it. Like as if they met and went 
together, and formed a duplicate of the body left 
behind. It's all very interesting. 1 

He told Lionel about his wanting a suit at first 
[atanunreportedsecond sitting]. He never thought 
that they would be able to provide him with one. 

o. J. L. Yes, I know, Lionel cold us ; that you wanted 

1 1 confess that I think that Feda may have got a great deal of this, 
perhaps all of it, from people who have read or written some of the 
books referred to in my introductory remarks. But inasmuch as her 
other utterances are often evidential, I feel that I have no right 
to pick and choose ; especially as / know nothing about it, one way or 
the other. 


something more like your old clothes at first, 
an^l that they didn't force you into new ones, 
but let you begin with the old kind, until you 
got accustomed to the place (p. 189). 

Yes, he says, they didn't force me, but most of 
the people here wear white robes. 

o. j. L. Then, can you tell any difference between men 
and women ? 

There are men here, and there are women here. 
I don't think that they stand to each other quite 
the same as they did on the earth plane, but they 
seem to have the same feeling to each other, with a 
different expression of it. There don't seem to be 
any children born here. People are sent into the 
physical body to have children on the earth plane ; 
they don't have them here. But there's a feeling 
of love between men and women here which is of a 
different quality to that between two men or two 
women ; and husband and wife seem to meet 
differently from mother and son, or father and 
daughter. He says he doesn't want to eat now. 
But he sees some who do ; he says they have to be 
given something which has all the appearance of an 
earth food. People here try to provide everything 
that is wanted. A chap came over the other day, 
who would have a ci[<ar. " That's finished them," 
he thought. He means he thought they would 
never be able to provide that. But there are 
laboratories over here, and they manufacture all 
sorts of things in them. Not like you do, out of 
solid matter, but out of essences, and ethers, 
and gases. It's not the same as on the earth 
plane, but they were able to manufacture what 
looked like a cigar. He didn't try one himself, 
because he didn't care to ; you know he wouldn't 
want to. But the other chap jumped at it. 
But when he began to smoke it, he didn't think 
so much of it ; he had four altogether, and now 
he doesn't look at one. 1 They don't seem to get 
the same satisfaction out of it, so gradually it 
seems to drop from them. But when they first 

1 Some of this Feda talk is at least humorous. 


come they do want things. Some want meat, 
and some strong drink ; they call for whisky sodas. 
Don't think I'm stretching it, when I tell you that 
they can manufacture even that. But when they 
have had one or two, they don't seem to want it 
so much not those that are near here. He has 
heard of drunkards who want it for months and 
years over here, but he hasn't seen any. Those 
I have seen, he says, don't want it any more 
like himself with his suit, he could dispense with it 
under the new conditions. 

He wants people to realise that it's just as 
natural as on the earth plane. 

o. J. L. Raymond, you said your house was made of 
bricks. How can that be ? What are the bricks 
made of ? 

That's what he hasn't found out yet. He is 
told by some, who he doesn't think would lead him 
astray, that they are made from sort of emana- 
tions from the earth. He says there's something 
rising, like atoms rising, and consolidating after 
they come ; they are not solid whei\ they come, 
but we can collect and concentrate them I 
mean those that are with me. They appear to 
be bricks, and when I touch them, they feel like 
bricks ; and I have seen granite too. 

There's something perpetually rising from 
your plane ; practically invisible in atoms when 
it leaves your plane but when it comes to the 
ether, it gains certain other qualities round each 
atom, and by the time it reaches us, certain people 
take it in hand, and manufacture solid things from 
it. Just as you can manufacture solid things. 

All the decay that goes on on the earth plane 
is not lost. It doesn't just form manure or dust. 
Certain vegetable and decayed tissue does form 
manure for a time, but it gives off an essence or 
a gas, which ascends, and which becomes what 
you call a ' smell.' Everything dead has a smell, 
if you notice ; and I know now that the smell is 
of actual use, because it is from that smell that 
we are able to produce duplicates of whatever 


form it had before it became a smell. Even old 
wood has a smell diiferent from new wood ; you 
may have to have a keen nose to detect these 
things on the earth plane. 

Old rags, he says (sotto voce. Yes, all right, 
Feda will go back), cloth decaying and going 
rotten. Different kinds of cloth give off different 
smells rotting linen smells different to rotting 
wool. You can understand how all this interests 
me. Apparently, as far as I can gather, the 
rotting wool appears to be used for making things 
like tweeds on our side. But I know I am jump- 
ing, I'm guessing at it. My suit I expect was made 
from decayed worsted on your side. 1 

Some people here won't take this in even yet 
about the material cause of all these things. They 
go talking about spiritual robes made of light, 
built by the thoughts on the earth plane. I 
don't believe it. They go about thinking that it is 
a thought robe that they're wearing, resulting 
from the spiritual life they led ; and when we try 
to tell them that it is manufactured out of 
materials, they don't believe it. They say, 
" No, no, it's a robe of light and brightness which 
I manufactured by thought/' So we just leave it. 
But I don't say that they won't get robes quicker 
when they have led spiritual lives down there ; 
I think they do, and that's what makes them 
think that they made the robes by their lives. 

You know ilowers, how they decay. We have 
got flowers here ; your decayed ilowers (lower again 
with us beautiful flowers. Lily has helped me a 
lot with flowers. 
o. j. L. Do you like her ? 

Yes, but he didn't expect to see her. 

(Feda, sotto voce. No, Raymond, you don't 
mean that.) 

Yes, he does. He says he's afraid he wasn't very 

polite to her when he met her at lirst ; he didn't 

expect a grown-up sister there. Am I a little 

brother, he said, or is she my little sister ? She 

I have not yet traced the source of all this supposed information. 


calls me her little brother, but I have a decided 
impression that she should be my little sister. 

He feels a bit of a mystery : he has got a 
brother there he knows, but he says two. 

(Sotto voce. No, Yaymond, you can't have 
two. No, Feda doesn't understand.) Is it 
possible, he says, that he has got another brother 
one that didn't live at all ? 
o. J. L. Yes, it is possible. 

But he says, no earth life at all ! That's 
what's strange. I've seen some one that I am told 
is a brother, but I can't be expected to recognise 
him, can I ? I feel somehow closer to Lily than 
I do to that one. By and by I will get to know 
him, I dare say. 

I'm told that I am doing very well in the short 
time I have been here. Taking to it what he 
say ? duck to water, he say. 

o. J. L. You know the earth is rolling along through 
space. How do you keep up with it ? 

It doesn't seem like that to him. 
o. J. L. No, I suppose not. Do you see the stars ? 

Yes, he sees the stars. The stars seem like 
what they did, only he feels closer to them. Not 
really closer, but they look clearer ; not appreciably 
closer, he says. 

O. J. L. Are they grouped the same ? Do you see the 
Great Bear, for instance ? 

Oh yes, he sees the Great Bear. And he sees 
the ch, ch, chariot, he says. 
O. J. L. Do you mean Cassiopeia ? 

Yes. [But I don't suppose he did.] 

There's one more mystery to him yet, it doesn't 
seem day and night quite by regular turns, like 
it did on the earth. 
o. J. L. But I suppose you see the sun ? 

Yes, he sees the sun ; but it seems always about 
the same degree of warmth, he doesn't feel heat or 
cold where he is. The sun doesn't make him 
uncomfortably hot. That is not because the 
sun has lost its heat, but because he hasn't got 
the same body that sensed the heat. When he 


comes into contact with the earth plane, and is 
manifesting, then he feels a little cold or warm 
at least he does when a medium is present 
not when he comes in the ordinary way just to 
look round. When he sang last night, he felt 
cold for a minute or two. 
o. j. L. Did he sing ? 

Yes, he and Paulie had a scuffle. Paulie was 
singing first, and Yaymond thought he would 
like to sing too, so he chipped in at the end. He 
sang about three verses. It wasn't difficult, 
because there was a good deal of power there. 
Also nobody except Mrs. Kathie knew who he 
was, and so all eyes were not on him, and they 
were not expecting it, and that made it easier for 
him. He says it wasn't so difficult as keeping 
up a conversation ; he just took the organs there, 
and materialised his own voice in her throat. He 
didn't find it very difficult, he hadn't got to 
think of anything, or collect his ideas ; there 
was an easy flow of words, and he just sang. And 
I did sing, he says ; I thought I'd nearly killed the 
medium. She hadn't any voice at all after. When 
he heard himself that he had really got it, he had 
to let go. Raised the roof, he says, and he did 
enjoy it ! 

(Here Feda gave an amused chuckle with a 
jump and a squeak.) 

He was just practising there, Yaymond says. 
At first he thought it wouldn't be easy. 

[This relates to what I am told was a real 
occurrence at a private gathering ; but 
it is not evidential.] 

o. j. L.- -Raymond, you know you want to give me some 
proofs. What kind of proofs do you think are 
best ? Have you talked it over with Mr. Myers, 
and have you decided on the kind of proof that 
will be most evidential ? 

I don't know yet. I feel divided between 
two ways : One is to give you objective proof, 
such as simple materialisations and direct voice, 
which you can set down and have attested. Or 


else I should have to give you information 
about my different experiences here, either 
something like what I am doing now, or through 
the table, or some other way. But he doesn't 
know whether he will be able to do the two things 

o. j. L. No, not likely, not at the same time. But you 
can take opportunities of saying more about your 
life there. 

Yes, that's why he has been collecting in- 
formation. He does so want to encourage people 
to look forward to a life they will certainly have 
to enter upon, and realise that it is a rational life. 
All this that he has been giving you now, and 
that I gave to Lionel, you must sort out, and 
put in order, because I can only give it 
scrappily. I want to study things here a lot. 
Would you think it selfish if I say I wouldn't 
like to be back now ? I wouldn't give this up 
for anything. Don't think it selfish, or that I 
want to be away from you all. I have still 
got you, because I feel you so close, closer even. 
I wouldn't come back, I wouldn't for anything 
that anyone could give me. 

He hardly liked to put it that way to his mother. 

Is Alec here ? (Feda looking round.) 
o. J. L. No, but I hope he will be coming. 

Tell him not to say who he is. I did enjoy my- 
self that first time that Lionel came I could talk 
for hours. 

(O. J. L. had here looked at his watch quietly.) 

I could talk for hours ; don't go yet. 

He says he thinks he was lucky when he passed 
on, because he had so many to meet him. That 
came, he knows now, through your having been in 
with this thing for so long. He wants to impress 
this on those that you will be writing for : that it 
makes it so much easier for them if they and their 
friends know about it beforehand. It's awful when 
they have passed over and won't believe it for 
weeks, they just think they're dreaming. And 
they won't realise things at all sometimes. He 


doesn't mind telling you now that, just at first, 
when he woke up, he felt a little depression. But 
it didn' t last 1( >ng. He cast his eyes round, and soon 
he didn't mind. But it was like finding yourself in a 
strange place, like a strange city ; with people you 
hadn't seen, or not seen for a long time, round you. 
Grandfather was with me straight away ; and 
presently Robert. I got mixed up between two 
Roberts. And there's some one called Jane comes 
to him, who calls herself an aunt, he says. Jane. 
He's uncertain about her. Jane Jennie. She 
calls herself an aunt ; he is told to call her ' Aunt 
Jennie.' Is she my Aunt Jennie ? he says. 
o. J. L. No, but your mother used to call her that. 

[And so on, simple talk about family and friends.] 

He has brought that doggie again, nice doggie. 
A doggie that goes like this, and twists about 
(Feda indicating a wriggle). He has got a nice tail, 
not a little stumpy tail, nice tail with nice hair on it. 
He sits up like that sometimes, and comes down 
again, and puts his tongue out of his mouth. He's 
got a cat too, plenty of animals, he says. He 
hasn't seen any lions and tigers, but he sees horses, 
cats, dogs, and birds. He says you know this 
doggie ; he has nice hair, a little wavy, which sticks 
up all over him, and has twists at the end. Now 
he's jumping round. He hasn't got a very pointed 
face, but it isn't like a little pug-dog either ; it's 
rather a long shape. And he has nice ears what 
flaps, not standing up ; nice long hairs on them 
too. A darkish colour he looks, darkish, as near 
as Fcda can see him. [See photograph, p. 278.] 
o. j. L. Does he call him by any name ? 

He says, ' Not him.' 

(Sotto voce. What you mean ' not him ' ? It 
is a ' him ' ; you don't call him ' it.') 

No, he won't explain. No, he didn't give it a 
name. It can jump. 

[All this about a she-dog called Curly, whose 
death had been specially mentioned by 
' Myers ' through another medium some 
years ago, an incident reported privately 


to the S.P.R. at the time, is quite good as 
far as it goes ~| 

He has met a spirit here, he says, who knows 
you G. Nothing t< do with the other G. Some 
one that's a very fine sort indeed. His name begins 
with G Gal, Gals, Got, Got, he doesn't know 
him very well, but it sounds like that. It isn't 
who you feel, though it might have been, nothing 
to do with that at all. Some one called Golt 
he didn't know him, but he is interested in you, 
and had met you. 

It's surprising how many people come up to 
me, he says, and shake me by the hand, and speak 
to me. I don't know them from Adam. (Sotto 
voce. Adam, he say.) But they are doing me 
honour here, and some of them are such fine men. 
He doesn't know them, but they all seem to be in- 
terested in you, and they say, " Oh, are you his son? 
how-do-you-do ? " 

Feda is losing control. 

o. J. L. Well, good-bye, Raymond, then, and God bless 

God bless you. I do so want you to know that I 
am very happy. And bless them all. My love to 
you. I can't tell what I feel, but you can guess. 
It's difficult to put into words. My love to all. 
God bless you and everybody. Good-bye, lather, 
o. J. L. Good-bye, Raymond. Good-bye, Feda. 

(Feda here gave a jerk, and a ' good-bye.') 

Love to her what 'longs to you and to Lionel 
Feda knows what your name is, ' Soliver/ yes. 
(Another squeak.) 

(Sitting ended 8.20 p.m.) 

The conclusion of sittings is seldom of an evidential 
character, and by mos< people would not be recorded ; 
but occasionally it may be best to quote one completely, 
just as a specimen of what may be called the ' manner ' 
of a sitting. 



N 17 December 1915, I was talking to Mrs. Ken- 
nedy when her hand began to write, and I had a 
\hort conversation which may be worth reporting : 

I have been here such a long time, please tell 
father I am here Raymond, 
o. J. L. My boy ! 

Dear father ! 

Father, it was difficult to say all one felt, but 
now I don't care. I love you. I love you intensely. 
Father, please speak to me. 

o. j. L. I recognise it, Raymond. Have you anything 
to say for the folk at home ? 

I have been there to-day ; I spoke to mother. I 
don't know if she heard me, but I rather think so. 
Please tell her this, and kiss her from me-, 
o. J. L. She had a rather vivid dream or vision of you 
one morning lately. I don't know if it was a 

I feel sure she will see me, but I don't know, 
because I am so often near her that I can't say yes 
or no to any particular time. 

o. j. L. Raymond, you know it is getting near Christmas 
now ? 

I know. I shall be there ; keep jolly or it hurts 
me horribly. Truly, I know it is difficult, but 
you must know by now that I am so splendid. I 
shall never be one instant out of the house oh 
Christmas Day. (Pause.) 

He has gone to fetch some one. Paul. 

(This is the sort of interpolation which fre- 


quently happens. Paul signs his explanatory 
sentence ) 

(K. K. presently said that Raymond had re- 
turned, and expected me to be aware of it.) 
I have brought Mr. Myers. He says he doesn't 
often come to use this means, but he wants to speak 
for a moment. 

" Get free and go on, "he says. " Don't let them 
trammel you. Get at it, Lodge." Myers. 

He has gone, tell my father, 
(o. j. L., sotto voce. What does that mean ?) 
(K. K. I haven't an idea.) 
o. J. L. Has Myers gone right away ? 

" I have; spoken, but I will speak again, if you 
keep quiet (meaning K. K.). Do cease to think, or 
you are useless. Tell Lodge I can't explain half 
his boy is to me. I feel as if I had my own dearly 
loved son here, yet I know he is only lent to me. 

" Pardon me if I rarely use you (to K. K.) ; I 
can't stand the way you bother." Myers. 
K. K. Do you mean the way I get nervous if I am taking 
a message from you ? 
"Yes I do." 
This interpolated episode was commented on 

by O. J. L. as very characteristic.] 
O. J. L. Is Raymond still there ? 


O. J. L. Raymond, do you know we've got that photo- 
graph you spoke of ? Mrs. Cheves sent us it, the 
mother of Cheves Captain Cheves, you remember 
him ? 

Yes, I know you have the photograph. 
o. J. L. Yes, and your description of it was very good. 
And we have seen the man leaning on you. Was 
there another one taken of you ? 

K. K. ' Four,' he says ' four.' Did you say ' four,' 
Raymond ? 

Yes, I did. 

o. J. L. Yes, we have those taken of you by yourself, but 
was another taken of you with other officers ? 

I hear, f ather ; I shall look, but I think you 
have had the one I want you to have ; I have seen 


you looking at it. I have heard all that father has 
said. It is ripping to come like this. Tell my 
father I have enjoyed it. Raymond. 

o. j. L. Before you go, Raymond, I want to ask a 
serious question. Have you been let to see 
Christ ? 

Father, I shall see him presently. It is not 
time yet. I am not ready. But I know he lives, 
and I know he comes here. All the sad ones see him 
if no one else can help them. Paul has seen him : 
you see he had such a lot of pain, poor chap. I am 
not expecting to see him yet, father. I shall love 
to when it's the time. Raymond. 

o. j. L. Well, we shall be very happy this Christmas I 

Father, tell mother she has her son with her all 
day on Christmas Day. There will be thousands 
and thousands of us back in the homes on that day, 
but the horrid part is that so many of the fellows 
don't get welcomed. Please keep a place for me. 
I must go now. Bless you again, father. Ray- 

(Paul then wrote a few words to his mother.) 



ON 21 December 1915 Alec had his first sitting with 
Mrs. Leonard ; but he did not manage to go quite 
anonymously the medium knew that he was my 
son. Again there is a good deal of unverifiable matter, 
which whether absurd or not I prefer not to suppress ; my 
reasons are indicated in Chapters XII and XVI, Part II, 
and Chapter XI, Part III. 

Alec's (A. M. L/s) Sitting with Mrs. Leonard at her House 
on Tuesday Afternoon, 21 December 1915, 3.15 to 4.30 p.m. 

(Medium knows I am Sir Oliver Lodge's son.) 

Front room ; curtains drawn ; dark ; small red lamp. 
No one else present. 

Mrs. Leonard shook hands saying, " Mr. Lodge ? " 
(Medium begins by rubbing her own hands vigorously.) 

Good morning ! This is Feda. 

Raymond's here. He would have liked A 
and B. 

(Feda, sotto voce. What you mean, A and B ?) 

Oh, he would have like to talk to A and B. 
[See Note A.] He says : "I wish you could see 
me, I am so pleased ; but you know I am pleased." 

He has been trying hard to get to you at home. 
He thinks he is getting closer, and better able 
to understand the conditions which govern this 
way of communicating. He thinks that in a 
little while he will be able to give actual tests 


at home. He knows lie has got through, but not 
satisfactorily. He gets so far, and then ilounders. 

(Feda, sotto voce. That's what fishes do !) 

He says he is feeling splendid. He did not 
think it was possible to feel so well. 

He was waiting here ; he knew you were 
coming, but thought you might not be able to 
come to-day. [Train half an hour late.] 

Did you take notice of what he said about 
the place he is in ? 
A. M. L. Yes. But I find it very difficult to understand. 

He says, it is such a solid place, I have not 
got over it yet. It is so wonderfully real. 

He spoke about a river to his father ; he has 
not seen the sea yet. He has found water, but 
doesn't know whether he will find a sea. He is 
making new discoveries every day. So much 
is new, although of course not to people who 
have been here some time 

He went into the library with his grand- 
father Grandfather William and also some- 
body called Richaid, and he says the books 
there seem to be the same as you read. 

Now this is extraordinary : There are books 
there not yet published on the earth plane. He 
is told only told, he does not know if it is correct 
that those books will be produced, books like 
those that are there now; that the matter in them 
will be impressed on the brain of some man, he 
supposes an author. 

He says that not everybody on his plane is 
allowed to read those books ; they might hurt 
them that is, the books not published yet. Father 
is going to write one not the one on now, but a 
fresh one. 

Has his father found out who it was, be- 
ginning with G, who said he was going to help 
(meaning help Raymond) for his father's sake ? 
It was not the person he thought it was at the 
time (p. 204). 

It is very difficult to get things through. He 
wants to keep saying how pleased he is to come. 


There are hundreds of things he will think of after 
he is gone. 

He has brought Lily, and William the young 

(Feda, sotto voce. I don't know whether it is 
right, but he appears to have two brothers.) 

[Two brothers as well as a sister died in ex- 
treme infancy. He would hardly know that, 
normally. O. J. L.] 

A. M. L. Feda, will you ask Raymond if he- would like 
me to ask some questions ? 

Yes, with pleasure, he says. 

A. M. L. A little time ago, Raymond said he was with 
mother. Mother would like to know if he can say 
what she was doing when he came ? Ask Raymond 
to think it over, and see if he can remember ? 

Yes, yes. She'd got some wool and scissors. 
She had a square piece of stuff he is showing 
me this she was working on the square piece 
of stuff. He shows me that she was cutting 
the wool with the scissors. 

Another time, she was in bed. 

She was in a big chair dark covered 

This refers to the time mentioned lirst. [Note B.] 
A. M. L. Ask Raymond if he can remember which 
room she was in ? 


He can't remember. He can't always see 
more than a corner of the room it appears 
vapourish and shadowy. 

He often comes when you're in bed. 

He tried to call out loudly : he shouted, 
' Alec, ^ Alec !' but he didn't get any answer. 
That is what puzzles him. He thinks he has 
shouted, but apparently he has not even manu- 
factured a whisper. 

A. M. L. Feda, will you ask Raymond if he can re- 
member trivial things that happened, as these 
things often make the best tests ? 

He says he can now and again. 

A. M. L. The questions that father asked about ' Evin- 
rude/ ' Dartmoor/ and ' Argonauts, 1 are all trivial, 


but make good tests, as father knows nothing 
about them. 

Yes, Raymond quite understands. He is just 
as keen as you are to give those tests. 
A. M. L. Ask Raymond if the word ' Evinrude ' in con- 
nexion with a holiday trip reminds him of any- 
thing ? 

Yes. (Definitely.) 
A. M. L. And ' Argonauts ' ? 

Yes. (Definitely.) 
A. M. L. And ' Dartmoor * ? 

Yes. (Definitely.) 

A. M. L. Well, don't answer the questions now, but if 
lather asks them again, see if you can remember 

(While Alec was speaking, Feda was getting a 
message simultaneously : ) 

He says something burst. 

[This is excellent for Dartmoor, but I knew it. 

A. M.L.] [NoleC.] 

A. M. L. Tell Raymond I am quite sure he gets things 
through occasionally, but that I think often the 
meaning comes through altered, and very often 
appears to be affected by the sitter. It appears 
to me that they usually get what they expect. 

Raymond says, " I only wish they did ! " But 
in a way you are right. He is never able to give 
all he wishes. Sometimes only a word, which 
often must appear quite disconnected. Often the 
word does not come from his mind ; he has no trace 
of it. Raymond says, for this reason it is a good 
thing to try, more, to come and give something 
definite at home. When you sit at the table, he 
feels sure that what he wants to say is influenced 
by some one at the table. Some one is helping 
him, some one at the table is guessing at the words. 
He often starts a word, but somebody finishes it. 

He asked father to let you come and not say who 
you were ; he says it would have been a bit of fun. 
A. M. L. Ask Raymond if he can remember any charac- 
teristic things we used to talk about among our- 
selves ? 


Yes. He says you used to talk about cars. 
(Feda, sotto voce. What you mean ? Every- 
body talks about cars !) 

And singing. He used to fancy he could sing. 
He didn't sing hymns. On Thursday nights he has 
to sing hymns, but they are not in his line. 

[On Thursday nights I am told that a circle 
holds sitting^ for developing the direct voice 
at Mrs. Leonard's, and that they sing hymns. 
Paul and Raymond have been said to join in. 
Cf . near end of Chapter XVI, p. 201.] 
A. M. L. What used he to sing ? 

Hello Hullalo sounds like Hullulu Hullulo. 
Something about ' Hottentot ' ; but he is going bad: 
a long way, he thinks. [See note in Appendix 
about this statement.] 

(Feda, sotto voce. An orange lady ?) 
He says something about an orange lady, 
(Feda, sotto vocc. Not what sold oranges ?) 
No, of course not. He says a song extolling the 
virtues and beauties of an orange lady. 

[Song : " My Orang Girl. Excellent. The 

last songh^ boiu',iit. A. M. L.] 
And a funny song which starts ' MA/ but Feda 
can't see any more like somebody's name. Also 
something about ' Irish eyes.' [See Note D.] 
(Feda, sotto voce. Are they really songs ?) 
Very much so. 
(A number of unimportant incidents were now 

He says it is somebody's birthday in January. 

A. M. L. It is. 

(Feda, soito voce. What's a beano ? Whose 
birthday ?) 

He won't say whose birthday. He says, He 
knows (meaning A.). 

[Raymond's own birthday, 25 Jan., was understood.] 
(More family talk.) 

Yes, he says he is going now. He says the 
power is getting thin. 
A. M. L. Wish him good luck from me, Feda. 

Love to all of them. 


My love to you, old chap. 

Just before I go : Don't ever any of you regret 
my going. I believe I have got more to do than 
I could have ever done on the earth plane. It is 
only a case of waiting, and just meeting every one 
of you as you come across to him. He is going 
now. He says Willie too young Willie. [His 
deceased brother.] 

(Feda, sotto voce. Yes, what ? Proclivities ?) 

Oh, he is only joking. 

He says : Not Willie of the weary proplic pro- 
pensities that's it. 

He is joking. Just as many jokes here as ever 
before. Even when singing hymns. When he 
and Paul are singing, they do a funny dance with 
their arms. (Showing a sort of cake-walk 
moving arms up and down.) 

(Ffda. It's a silly dance, anyway.) 

Good-bye, and good luck. 

[Characteristic ; see, for instance, a letter of his 
on page 41 above. I happen to have just 
seen another letter, to Brodie, which con- 
cludes : "Well good-b\e, Brodie, and good 

i uc k."_q. j. L.] 

Yes, he is going. Yes. He is gone now, yes. 

Do you want to say anything to Feda ? 
A. M. L. Yes, thank you very much for all your help. 
The messages are sometimes difficult, but it is most 
important to try and give exactly what you hear, 
and nothing more, whether you understand it 
or not. 

Feda understands. She only say exactly what 
she hear, even though it is double-Dutch. Don't 
forget to give my love to them all. 
A. M. L. Good-bye, Feda. (Shakes hands.) 

Medium comes-to in about two to three minutes. 

(Signed) A. M. L. 
21 December 1915 

[All written out fair same evening. Part on 
way home, and part after arriving, without 
disturbance from seeing anybody.] 



This seems to have been a good average sitting ; it 
contains a few sufficiently characteristic remarks, but not 
much evidential. What is said about songs in it, how- 
ever, is rather specially good. In further explanation, a 
few notes, embodying more particular information ob- 
tained by me from the family when reading the sitting 
over to them, may now be added : 


The ' A and B ' manifestly mean his brothers Alec and Brodie ; 
and there was a natural reason for bracketing them together, 
inasmuch as they constitute the firm Lodge Brothers, with which 
Raymond was already to a large extent, and hoped to be. still 
more closely, associated. But there may have been a minor 
point in it, since between Alec and Brodie long ago, at their 
joint preparatory school, there was a sort of joke, of which 
Raymond was aware, about problems given in algebra and 
arithmetic books : where, for instance, A buys so many dozen 
at some price, and B buys some at anoi her price ; the question 
being to compare their profits. Or where A does a piece of work 
in so many days, and B does something else. It is usually not 
at all obvious, without working out, which gets the better of it, 
A or B ; and Alec seems to have recognised, in the manner of 
saying A and B, some reference to old family chad on this 


The reference to a square piece of stuff, cut with scissors, 
suggests to his mother, not the wool-work which she is doing like 
everybody else for soldiers, but the cutting of a circular piece out 
of a Raymond blanket that came back with his kit, for the purpose 
of covering a round four-legged table which was subsequently used 
for sittings, in order to keep it clean without its having to be 
dusted or otherwise touched by servants. It is not distinct 
enough to be evidential, however. 


About Dartmoor, "he says something burst." Incidents 
referred to in a previous sitting, when I was there alone, were the 
running downhill, clapping on brake, and swirling round corners 
(p. 156) ; but all this was associated with, and partly caused by, 
the bursting of the silencer in the night after the hilly country 
had been reached. And it was the fearful noise subsequent to 
the bursting of the silencer that the boys had expected him to 



The best evidential thing, however, Is on p. 212 a reference 
to a song of his called " My Orange Girl." If the name of the 
song merely had been given, though good enough, it would not 
have been quite so good, because the name of a song is common 
property. But the particular mode of describing it, in such a 
way as to puzzle Feda, namely, " an orange lady/' making her 
think rather of a market woman, is characteristic of Raymond 
especially the sentence about " extolling her virtues and beauties," 
which is not at all appropriate to Feda, and is exactly like 
Raymond. So is " Willie of the weary proclivities." 

The song !! Irish Eyes " was also, I find, quite correct. It 
seems to have been a comparatively recent song, which he had 
sung several times. 

Again, the song described thus by Feda : 

" A funny song which starts MA. But Feda can't see any 
more like somebody's name." 

I find that the letters M A were pronounced separately not 
as a word. To me the MA had suggested one of those nigger 
songs about Ma Honey ' the kind of song which may have 
been indicated by the word ' Hottentot ' above. But, at a later 
table sitting at Mariemont, he was asked what song he meant by 
the letters M A, and then he spelt out clearly the name * Maggie.' 
This song was apparently unknown to those at the table, but 
was recognised by Norah, who was in the room, though not at 
the table, as a still more recent song of Raymond's, about i Maggie 
Magee." (See Appendix also.) 


(Dictated by O. J. L., 12 April 1916.) 

Last night the family were singing over some songs, 
and came across one which is obviously the one referred 
to in the above sitting of A. M. L. with Mrs. Leonard, 
held nearly four months ago, of which a portion ran thus 
(just before the reference to Orange Girl) : 

" A. M. L. What used he to sing ? 

Hello Hullalo sounds like Hullulu, Hullulo. 
Something about ' Hottentot ' ; but he is 
going back a long way, he thinks." 

References to other songs known to the family 
followed, but this reference to an unknown song was 
vaguely remembered by the family as a puzzle ; 


and it existed in A. M. L.'s mind as " a song about 
' Honolulu/ " this being apparently the residual im- 
pression produced by the ' Hullulu ' in combination 
with ' Hottentot ' ; but no Honolulu song was known. 

A forgotten and overlooked song has now (n April 
1916) turned up, which is marked in pencil " R. L. 3.3.4.," 
i.e. 3 March 1904, which corresponds to his " going back a 
long way " to a time, in fact, when he was only fifteen. 
It is called, " My Southern Maid " ; and although no word 
about ' Honolulu ' occurs in the printed version, one of the 
verses has been altered in Raymond's writing in pencil ; 
and that alteration is the following absurd introduction 
to a noisy chorus : 

" Any little flower from a tulip to a rose, 
If you'll be Mrs. John James Brown 
Of Hon-o-lu-la-lu-la town." 

Until these words were sung last night, nobody seems 
to have remembered the song " My Southern Maid/' and 
there appears to be no reason for associating it with the 
word ' Honolulu ' or any similar sound, so far as public 
knowledge was concerned, or apart from Raymond's 

Alec calls attention to the fact that, in answer to his 
question about songs, no songs were mentioned which were 
not actually Raymond's songs ; and that those which 
were mentioned were not those he was expecting. Further- 
more, that if he had thought of these songs he would have 
thought of them by their ordinary titles, such as " My 
Orange Girl " and " My Southern Maid " ; though the 
latter he had forgotten altogether. 

(A sort of disconnected sequel to this song episode 
occurred some months later, as reported in Chapter 


IT had been several times indicated that Raymond 
wanted to come into the family circle at home, and 
that Honor, whom he often refers to as H., would be 
able to help him. Attempted private sittings of this kind 
were referred to by Raymond through London mediums, 
and he gave instruction as to procedure, as already 
reported (pp. 160 and 190). 

After a time some messages were received, and family 
communications without any outside medium have 
gradually become easy. 

Records were at first carefully kept, but I do not report 
them, because clearly it is difficult to regard anything 
thus got as evidential. At the same time, the naturalness 
of the whole, and the ready way in which family jokes 
were entered into and each new-comer recognised and 
welcomed appropriately, were very striking. A few 
incidents, moreover, were really of an evidential character, 
and these must be reported in due course. 

But occasionally the table got rather rampageous and 
had to be quieted down. Sometimes, indeed, both the 
table and things like flower-pots got broken. After these 
more violent occasions, Raymond volunteered the explana- 
tion, through mediums in London, that he couldn't always 
control it, and that there was a certain amount of sky- 
larking, not on our side, which he tried to prevent (see 
pp. 182, 194, and 273) ; though in certain of the surprising 
mechanical demonstrations, and, so to speak, tricks, which 
certainly seemed beyond the normal power of anyone 
touching the table, he appeared to be decidedly interested, 
and was represented as desirous of repeating a few of the 
more remarkable ones for my edification. 


I do not, however, propose to report in this book con- 
cerning any purely physical phenomena. They require a 
more thorough treatment. Suffice it to say that the move- 
ments were not only intelligent, but were sometimes, 
though very seldom, such as apparently could not be 
accomplished by any normal application of muscular force, 
however unconsciously such force might be exerted by 
anyone it might only be a single person left in contact 
with the table. 

A family sitting with no medium present is quite 
different from one held with a professional or indeed any 
outside medium. Information is freely given about the 
doings of the family ; and the general air is that of a family 
conversation ; because, of course, in fact, no one but the 
family is present. 

At any kind of sitting the conversation is rather 6ne- 
sided, but whereas with a medium the sitter is reticent, and 
the communicator is left to do nearly all the talking, in a 
family group the sitters are sometimes voluble ; while the 
ostensible control only occasionally takes the trouble to 
spell out a sentence, most of his activity consisting in 
affirmation and negation and rather effective dumb show. 

I am reluctant to print a specimen of these domestic 
chats, though it seems necessary to give some account of 

On Christmas Day, 1915, the family had a long table 
sitting. It was a friendly and jovial meeting, with plenty 
of old songs interspersed, which he seemed thoroughly to 
enjoy and, as it were, ' conduct ' ; but for publication I 
think it will be better to select something shorter, and I 
find a description written by one to whom such things 
were quite new except by report a lady who had been 
governess in the family for many years, when even the 
elder children were small, and long before Raymond was 
born. This lady, Miss F. A. Wood, commonly called 
' Woodie ' from old times, happened to be staying on a 
visit to Mariemont in March 1916, and was present at two 
or three of the family sittings. She was much interested 
in her first experience, and wrote an account immediately 
afterwards, which, as realistically giving the impression of 
a witness, I have obtained her permission to copy here. 

At this date the room was usually considerably dark- 


ened for a sitting ; but even partial darkness was unneces- 
sary, and was soon afterwards dispensed with, especially as 
it interfered with easy reading of music at the piano. 

Table Sitting in the Drawing-room at Mariemont, 
Thursday, 2 March 1916, about 6 p.m. 

Sitters LADY LODGE, NORAH, and WOODIE ; later, HONOR 
Report by Miss P. A. Wood 

As it was the first time that I had ever been at a sitting of any 
kind, I shall put down the details as fully as I can remember 

The only light in the room was from the gas-fire, a large one, 
so that we could sec each other and things in the room fairly 
distinctly ; the table used at this time was a rather small octagonal 
one, though weighty for its size, with strong centre stem, supported 
on three short legs, top like a chess-board. Lady Lodge sat with 
her back to window looking on to drive, Norah with back to 
windows looking on to tennis-lawn, and I, Woodie, had my back 
to the sofa. 

As we were about to sit down, Lady Lodge said : " We 
always say a little prayer first." 

I had hoped that she intended to pray aloud for us all, but 
she did it silently, so I did the same, having been upstairs before 
and done this also. 

For some time nothing whatever happened. I only felt that 
the table was keeping my hands extremely cold. 

After about half an hour, Lady Lodge said : *' I don't think 
that anyone is coming to-night ; we will wait just a little longer, 
and then go." 

LADY LODGE. Is anyone here to-night to speak to us ? Do 
come if you can, because we want to show Woodie what a 
sitting is like. Raymond, dear, do you think you could 
come to us ? 

(No answer.) 

During the half-hour before Lady Lodge asked any 
questions I had felt every now and then a curious tingling 
in my hands and fingers, and then a much stronger drawing 
sort of feeling tl rough my hands and arms, which caused 
the table to have a strange intermittent trembling sort of 
feeling, though it was not a movement of the whole table. 
Another ' feeling ' was as if a * bubble ' of the table came 
up, and tapped gently on the palm of my left hand. At 
first I only felt it once ; after a short interval three times ; 
then a little later about twelve times. And once (I shall 
not be able to explain this) I felt rather than heard a faint 
tap in the centre of the table (away from people's hands). 


Nearly every time I felt these queer movements Lady 
Lodge asked, *' Did you move, Woodie ? " I had cer- 
tainly not done so consciously, and said so, and while I 
was feeling that ! drawing ' feeling through hands and 
arms, I said nothing myself, till Lady Lodge and Norah 
both said, " What is the table doing ? It has never done 
like this before." Then I told of my strange feelings in 
hands and arms, etc. Lady Lodge said it must be due to 
nerves, or muscles, or something of the sort. These strange 
feelings did not last long at a time, and generally, but not 
always, they came after Lady Lodge had asked questions 
(to some one on the other side). 

After a bit, when the ' feelings ' had gone from me 
at least, Lady Lodge suggested Norah's going for Honor, 
who came, but said on first sitting down that the 
table felt dead, and she did not think that anyone was 

LADY L. Is anyone coming ? We should be so pleased if any- 
one could; we have been sitting here some time very 

Nothing happened for a bit, and Lady Lodge said, ** I 
don't think it is any good." 

But I said, ! Oh, do wait a little longer, that tingling 
feeling is coming back again." 

And Honor said, " Yes, I think there is something." 
And then the table began to move, and Lady Lodge 
asked : 
LADY L. Raymond, darling, is that you ? 

(The table rocked three times.) 

LADY L. That is good of you, because Woodie did so want 
you to come. 

(The table rocked to and fro with a pleased motion, 
most difficult to express on paper.) 
WOODIE. Do you think that I have any power ? 


[Personally, I do not feel so sure of this. After the 
sitting and during it, I felt there might be a possi- 
bility. Woodie.] 

LADY L. Lorna has gone to nurse the soldiers, night duty. 
They are typhoid patients, and I do not like it. Do you 
think it will do her any harm ? 

LADY L. Do you like her doing this P 

LADY L. You are rocking like a rocking-horse. Do you 
remember the rocking-horse at Newcastle ? 


LADY L. Can you give its name ? (They went through the 
alphabet, and it spelt out : ) 
[It used to be called Archer Prince.] 


(Soon after this the table began to show signs of 
restlessness, and Honor said : "I expect he wants to send 
a message." So Lady Lodge said : ) 
LADY L. Do you want to send a message ? 

HONOR. Well, we're all ready ; start away. 


HONOR. Raymond, that is wrong, isn't it ? Was " Your love 
to my " right ? 


HONOR. Very well, we will start from there. 
(The message then ran : ) 


(Before the whole of ' sister ' was made out, he showed 
great delight ; and when the message was repeated to him 
in full to see if it was right, he was so pleased, and showed 
it so vigorously, that he, and we, all laughed together. 

I could never have believed how real the feeling would 
be of his presence amongst us.) 
LADY L. Do you mean Lily ? 

LADY L. Is she here ? 

LADY L. Are you here in the room ? 

LADY L. Can Lily see us ? 


LADY L. Lily, darling, your mother does love you so dearly. 
I have wanted to send you my love. I shall come to see 
you some time, and then we shall be so happy, my dear, 
dear little girl. Thank you very much for coming to help 
Raymond, and coming to the table sometimes, till he can 
come himself. My love to you, darling, and to Brother 
Bill too. 

(Raymond seemed very pleased when Brother Bill 
was mentioned.) 

(The table now seemed to wish to get into Lady Lodge's 
lap, and made most caressing movements to and fro, and 
seemed as if it could not get close enough to her. 

Soon we realised that he was wanting to go, so we asked 
him if this was so, and he said : ) 


(So we said ! good night ' to him, and after giving two 
rather slight movements, which I gather is what he gener- 
ally does just as he is going, we said 'good night* once 
more, and came away.) 

(Signed) WOODIB 


One other family sitting, a still shorter one, may be 
quoted as a specimen also ; though out of place. A 
question asked was suggested by something reported on 
page 230. It appears that Miss Wood was still here, but 
that on this occasion she was not one of those that 
touched the table. 

At this date the table generally used happened to be 
a chess-table with centre pillar and three claw feet. After 
this table and another one had got broken during the 
more exuberant period of these domestic sittings, before 
the power had got under control, a stronger and heavier 
round table with four legs was obtained, and employed 
only for this purpose. 

Table Sitting in the Drawing-Room at Mariemont, < 
9 p.m., Monday, 17 April 1916 


Music going on in the drawing-room at Marie- 

The girls (four of them) and Alec singing at the 
piano. Woodie and Honor and I sitting at the other 
end of the room. Lionel in the large chair. 

The Shakespeare Society was meeting in the 
house, and at that time having coffee in the dining- 
room, so O. J. L. was not with us. 

Woodie thought Raymond was in the room 
and would like to hear the singing, but Honor 
thought it too late to begin with the table, as we 
should shortly be going into the dining-room. 

However, I got the table ready near the piano, 
and Honor came to it, and the instant she placed 
her hands on it, it began to rock. I put my 
hands on too. 

We asked if it was Raymond, and if he had 
been waiting, and he said : 

He seemed to wish to listen to the music, and 
kept time with it gently. And after a song was 
over that he liked, he very distinctly and decidedly 


Lionel came (I think at Raymond's request) 
and sat at the table with us. It was determined to 
edge itself close to the piano, though we said we 
must pull it back, and did so. But it would go 
there, and thumped Barbie, who was playing the 
piano, in time to the music. Alec took one of the 
black satin cushions and held it against her as a 
buffer. The table continued to bang, and made a 
little hole in the cushion. 

It then edged itself along the floor, where for 
a minute or two it could make a sound on the 
boards beyond the carpet. Then it seemed to 
be feeling about with one foot (it has three). 

It found a corner of the skirting board, where 
it could lodge one foot about 6 inches from the 
ground. It then raised the other two level 
with it, in the air ; and this it did many times, 
seeming delighted with its new trick. 

It then laid itself down on the ground, and we 
asked if we should help it and lift it up, but it 
banged a 


on the floor, and raised itself a little several 
times without having the strength to get up. It 
lifted itself quite a foot from the ground, and was 
again asked if we might not lift it, but it again 
banged once for 


But Lionel then said : 

.IONEL. Well, Pat, my hand is in a most uncomfortable 
position ; won't you let me put the table up? 
It at once banged three times for 


So we raised it. 
I then said : 

vi. F. A. L. Raymond, I want to ask you a question as a 
test : What is the name of the sphere on which 
you are living ? 

[I did this, because others beside Raymond 
have said, through Mrs. Leonard, that they 
were living on the third sphere, and that it 
was called ' Summerland,' so I thought it 


might be an idea of the medium's. 1 I don't 
much like these ' sphere ' messages, and 
don't know whether they mean anything ; 
but I assume that ' sphere ' may mean 
condition, or state of development.] 
We took the alphabet, and the answer came at 
once : 


We asked, after the second R, if there was not 
some mistake ; and again when O came, instead of 
the A we had expected for ' Summerland.' 
But he said No. 

So we went on, though I thought it was hope- 
lessly wrong, and ceased to follow. I felt sure it 
was mere muddle. 

So my surprise was the greater when the n6te- 
taker read out, ' Summer R. Lodge/ and I found 
he had signed his name to it, to show, I suppose, 
that it was his own statement, and not Feda's. 
[Lorna reports that the impression made upon 
them was that Raymond knew they had 
been expecting one ending, and that he was 
amused at having succeeded in giving them 
another. They enjoyed the joke together, 
and the table shook as if laughing.] 
We talked to him a little after this, and Alec 
and Noel put their hands on the table, and we 
said good night. 

It is only necessary to add that the mechanical 
movements here described are not among those which, 
on page 218, 1 referred to as physically unable to be done 
by muscular effort on the part of anyone whose hands 
are only on the table top. I am not in this book describ- 
ing any cases of that sort. Whatever was the cause of 
the above mechanical trick movements, which were 
repeated on a subsequent occasion for my observation, 
the circumstances were not strictly evidential. I ought 
to say, however, that most certainly I am sure that no 
conscious effort was employed by anyone present. 

1 The statement will be found on page 230, in the record of a sitting 
preceding this in date. 





It maybe well to give a word of warning to those who 
find that they possess any unusual power in the psychic 
direction, and to counsel regulated moderation in its use. 
Every power can be abused, and even the simple faculty 
of automatic writing can with the best intentions be mis- 
applied. Self-control is more important than any other, 
form of control, and whoever possesses the power of 
receiving communications in any form should see to it that 
he remains master of the situation. To give up your own 
judgement and depend solely on adventitious aid is a grave 
blunder, and may in the long run have disastrous conse- 
quences. Moderation and common sense are Required in 
those who try to utilise powers which neither they nor any 
fully understand, and a dominating occupation in mundane 
affairs is a wholesome safeguard. 



AFTER Christmas I had proposed to drop the 
historical order and make selections as convenient, 
but I find that sequence must to some extent be 
maintained, because of the interlocking of sittings with 
different mediums and development generally. 1 shall, 
however, only preserve historical order so far as it turns 
out useful or relevant, and will content myself with re- 
porting that on 3 January 1916 Raymond's eldest sister, 
Violet (the one married to the ' Rowland ' that he men- 
tioned through Feda), had a good sitting with him, and 
was not only recognised easily, but knowledge was shown 
of much that she had been doing, and of what she was 
immediately planning to do. Reference was also made 
by Raymond to what he called his special room in her 
house (p. 45) ; and, later, he said that that room was 
bare of furniture, which it was. 

And at some of the sittings now, deceased friends, not 
relatives, were brought by Raymond, and gave notable 
evidence both to us and to other people ; especially to 
parents in some cases, to widows in others ; some of which 
may perhaps be partially reported hereafter. 

I propose now to pass on to some unverifiable matter 
(see Chapters XII and XVI), and especially to a strange 
and striking sitting which Lady Lodge had with Mrs. 
Leonard on 4 February 1916. 

This may as well be reported almost in full, in spite 
of unimportant and introductory portions, since it seems 
fairer to give the context, especially of unverifiable matter. 
But I feel bound to say that there is divergence of opinion 
as to whether this particular record ought to be pub- 


lished or not . I can only say that I recognise the responsi- 
bility, and hope that I am right in partially accepting it. 

Non-Evidential Sitting of M. F. A. L. with Mrs. Leonard 
at her House on Friday, 4 February 1916, from 8.30 
p.m. to ii. 10 p.m. 

(M. F. A. L. alone.) 

Feda. Oh, its Miss Olive ! 
M. F. A. L. So glad to meet you, Feda ! 

Feda love you and Soliver best of all. SLionel 
and SAlec too she love very much. 

Yaymond is here. He has been all over the place 
with Paulie, to all sorts of places to the mediums, to 
try and get poor boys into touch with their mothers. 
Some are very jealous of those who succeed. They 
try to get to their mothers, and they can't they 
are shut out. They make me feel as though I 
could cry to see them. We explain that their 
mothers and fathers don't know about communica- 
ting. They say, why don't they all go to mediums ? 

Yaymond say, it makes me wonder too. 

He say, he was telling Feda, it was awful funny 
the things some of them did it has a funny side, 
going to see the mediums. You see, Paul and he 
couldn't help having a joke ; they are boys them- 
selves, laughing over funny things. 

He says he was listening to Paul, and he was 
describing the drawing-room at home. (A good 
description was now given of the drawing-room at 
Mariemont, which the medium had never seen.) 

Feda sees flowers ; they're Feda's, not Gladys's. 

[M. F. A. L. had brought flowers for Mrs. 

M. F. A. L. Don't you have flowers, then ? 

Yes, lots of flowers. But Feda like to have 
them in Gladys's room. [Apparently this must be 
Mrs. Leonard's name.] 

There's a lot in prayer. Prayer keeps out evil 
things, and keeps nice clean conditions. Raymond 
says, keeps out devils. 

Mother, I don't want to talk about material 


things, but to satisfy anxiety. I was very uneasy 
on Monday night. I tried to come near, but there 
was a band round me. We were all there. 
M. F. A. L. The Zeppelins did come on Monday night, 
but they did not touch us. [We went to bed and 
didn't worry about them.] 

He says, they worked in a circular way, east and 
south of you. Awful ! He hoped it wouldn't up- 
set you ; he didn't want them to come too close. I 
know you're not nervous, but I fear for you. If 
he'd been on the earth plane, he'd have been flying 
home. He says New Street was the mark. 

Some one called ' M.' sent you a message through 
Mrs. F. (?), and wanted her dearest love given. 
She's had to be away rather from the earth plane 
for some time, but he actually has seen M. several 
times. Conditions of war have brought her back. 
She had progressed a good way. She wondered if 
you realised it was not her will to leave you so long, 
but progression. She belongs to a higher plane. 

M. knew something about this before she passed 
on, though perhaps it makes it easier to be always 

[Some friends will know for whom this is in- 
tended a great friend of our and many 
other children. She had had one sitting with 
Mrs. Piper at Mariemont, not a good one. 

Her life on the earth plane made it easier for 
her to go on quickly after she passed out. 
(Feda, sotto voce. What you say ?) 
M. says, it will be a test, that she was with 
his father at a medium's, where she saw a con- 
trol named Alice Anne, a little girl control ; she 
didn't speak to Soliver, but was with him at the 
medium's. "The old Scotch lady" what Paulie 
calls her. 

[This is correct about a sitting with Miss 
McCreadie, when this ' M/ had unmistak- 
ably sent messages through Miss McC/s 
usual control. O. J. L.] 


(Added later.) 

Some friends will be interested in this lady, a really beautiful 
character, with initials M. N. W., so I record something that came 
through from Feda on a much later occasion in July 1916 : 

Raymond's got rather a young lady with him. Not the sister 
who passed away a little baby. But she's young she looks 
twenty-four or twenty-five. She's rather slender, rather pretty. 
Brown hah", oval face. Not awful handsome, but got a nice ex- 
pression. She's very nice, and comes from a high sphere. She's 
able to come close to-night, but can't always come. Name 
begins with an M. And she says, fl Don't think that because she 
didn't come, she didn't want to come. She had to keep away for 
so long. It was necessary for her to stay away from the earth for 
a while, because she had work in high spheres for three years, and 
it's difficult for her to come through. 

Good, good something about the lady, lady two people, she 
says. Lady and good man. Feda ought to remember it a lady 
and good man. 

Between them Soliver and her, Soliver and Miss Olive, and her. 
Lady and good man and M. She must have been very good on 
the earth plane, she wasn't ordinary at all. Quite unusual and 
very very good. You can tell that by what she looks like now. 

She brings a lot of flowers pansies, not quite pansies, flower 
like a pansy, and not quite a pansy. Heartsease, that's what it is. 
She brings lots of those to you. She brought a lot of them when 
Raymond wented over there. But not for very long, she didn't 
they wasn't wanted very long. 

M. F. A. L. Record of February 4 continued 

He said about some one, that she'd gone right 
on to a very high sphere indeed, as near celestial 
as could possibly be. His sister, he says can't get 
her name. [He means Lily, presumably.] He says 
William had gone on too, a good way, but not too 
far to come to him. [His brother.] 

Those who are fond of you never go too far to 
come back to you sometimes too lar to com- 
municate, never too far to meet you when you pass 

M. F. A. L. That's so comforting, darling. I don't want 
to hold you back. 

You gravitate here to the ones you're fond of. 
Those you're not fond of, if you meet them in the 


street, you don't bother yourself to say ' how-do- 
M. F. A. L. There are streets, then ? 

Yes. He was pleased to see streets and 

At one time, I thought it might be created by 
one's own thoughts. You gravitate to a place you 
are fitted for. Mother, there's no judge and jury, 
you just gravitate, like to like. 

I've seen some boys pass on who had nasty 
ideas and vices. They go to a place I'm very glad 
I didn't have to go to, but it's not hell exactly. 
More like a reformatory it's a place where you're 
given a chance, and when you want to look for 
something better, you're given a chance to have it. 
They gravitate together, but get so bored. Learn 
to help yourself, and immediately you'll be helped. 
Very like your world ; only no unfairness, no in- 
justice a common law operating for each and 
every one. 
M. F. A. L. Are all of the same rank and grade ? 

Rank doesn't count as a virtue. High rank 
comes by being virtuous. Those who have been 
virtuous have to pass through lower rank to under- 
stand things. All go on to the astral first, just 
for a little. 

He doesn't remember being on the astral him- 
self. He thinks where he is now, he's about third. 
Summerland Homeland, some call it. It is a 
very happy medium. The very highest can come 
to visit you. It is just sufficiently near the earth 
plane to be able to get to those on earth. He 
thinks you have the best of it there, so far as he 
can see. 

Mother, I went to a gorgeous place the other 
M. F. A. L. Where was it ? 

Goodness knows ! 

I was permitted, so that I might see what was 
going on in the Highest Sphere. Generally the 
High Spirits come to us. 

I wonder if I can tell you what it looked like ! 


[Until the case for survival is considered 
established, it is thought improper and un- 
wise to relate an experience of a kind which 
may be imagined, in a book dealing for the 
most part with evidential matter. So I 
have omitted the description here, and the 
brief reported utterance which followed. 
I think it fair, however, to quote the record 
so far as it refers to the youth's own feel- 
ings, because otherwise trie picture would 
be incomplete and one-sided, and he might 
appear occupied only with comparatively 
frivolous concerns.] 

I felt exalted, purified, lifted up. I was 
kneeling. I couldn't stand up, I wanted to kneel. 

Mother, I thrilled from head to foot. He 
didn't come near me, and I didn't feel I wanted to 
go near him. Didn't feel I ought. The Voice was 
like a bell. I can't tell you what he was dressed or 
robed in. All seemed a mixture of shining colours. 


No good ; can you imagine what I felt like when 
he put those beautiful rays on to me ? I don't 
know what I've ever done that I should have been 
given that wonderful experience. I never thought 
of such a thing being possible, not at any rate for 
years, and years, and years. No one could tell 
what I felt, I can't explain it. 

Will they understand it ? 

I know father and you will, but I want the 
others to try. I can't put it into words. 

I didn't walk, I had to be taken back to Summer- 
land, I don't know what happened to me. If you 
could faint with delight 1 Weren't those beautiful 
words ? 

I've asked if Christ will go and be seen by 
everybody ; but was told, " Not quite in the same 
sense as you saw Him." I was told Christ was 
always in spirit on earth a sort of projection, 
something like those rays, something of him in 
every one. 

People think he is a Spirit, walking about in a 
particular place. Christ is everywhere, not as a 
personality. There is a Christ, and He lives on 
the higher plane, and that is the one I was per- 
mitted to see. 

There was more given me in that beautiful 
message ; I can't remember it all. He said the 
whole of it, nearly and word for word, of what I've 
given you. You see from that I'm given a mission 
to do, helping near the earth plane. . . . 

Shall I tell you why I'm so glad that is my 
work, given me by the Highest Authority of all 1 

First of all, I'm proud to do His work, no matter 
what it is ; but the great thing is, I can be near 
you and father. 
M. F. A. L. If we can only be worthy ! 

You are both doing it, every bit you can. 
M. F. A. L. Well, I'm getting to love people more than 
I used to do. 

I have learnt over here, that every one is not 
for you. If not in affinity, let them go, and be 
with those you do like. 


Mother, will they think I'm kind of puffing 
myself up or humbugging ? It's so wonderful, 
will they be able to understand that it's just 
Raymond that's been through this ? No Sunday 

I treasured it up to give you to-night. I put 
it off because I didn't know if I could give it in the 
right words that would make them feel like I feel 
or something like. Isn't it a comfort ? You 
and father think it well over. I didn't ask for 
work to be near the earth plane ! I thought that 
things would be made right. But think of it 
being given me, the work I should have prayed 
M. F. A. L. Then you're nearer ? 

Much nearer ! I was bound to be drawn (?). 
So beautiful to think, now I can honestly stay near 
the earth plane. Eventually, instead of going up 
by degrees, I shall take, as Feda has been promised, 
a jump. And when you and father come, you 
will be on one side, and father on the other. We 
shall be a while in Summerland, just to get used to 
conditions. He says very likely we shall be wanted 
to keep an eye on the others. He means brothers 
and sisters. I can't tell you how pleased I feel 
' pleased ' is a poor word ! 
M. F. A. L. About what, my dear ? 

About being very near the earth plane. 

I've pressed on, getting used to conditions here, 
and yet when I went into the Presence I was over- 

How can people . . . 

It made me wish, in the few seconds I was able 
to think of anything, that I had led one of the 
purest lives imaginable. If there's any little tiny 
thing I've ever done, it would stand out like a 
mountain. I didn't have much time to think, but 
I did feel in that few seconds . . . 

I felt when I found myself back in Summerland 
that I was charged with something some wonder- 
ful power. As if I could stop rivers, move 
mountains ; and so wonderfully glad. 


He says, don't bother yourself about trying to 
like people you've got an antipathy for, it's waste 
of you. Keep love for those who want it, don't 
throw it away on those who don't ; it's like giving 
things to over-fed people when hungry chaps 
are standing by. 

Do you know that I can feel my ideas altering, 

I feel more naturally in tune with conditions 
very far removed from the earth plane ; yet I 
like to go round with Paul, and have fun, and 
enjoy myself. 

After that wonderful experience, I asked some 
one if it wasn't stupid to like to have fun and go 
with the others. But they said that if you'\e got 
a work to do on the earth plane, you're not to 
have all the black side, you are allowed to have the 
lighter side too, sunshine and, shadow. One throws 
the other up, and makes you better able to judge 
the value of each. There are places on my 
sphere where they can listen to beautiful music 
when they choose. Everybody, even here, 
doesn't care for music, so it's not in my sphere 

He likes music and singing, but wouldn't like 
to live in the middle of it always, he can go and 
hear it if he wants to, he is getting more fond of it 
than he was. 

Mr. Myers was very pleased. He says, you 
know it isn't always the parsons, not always the 
parsons, that go highest first. It isn't what you 
professed, it's what you've done. If you have 
not believed definitely in life after death, but 
have tried to do as much as you could, and 
led a decent life, and have left alone things you 
don't understand, that's all that's required of 
you. Considering how simple it is, you'd 
think everybody would have done it, but very 
few do. 

On our side, we expect a few years will make a 
great difference in the conditions of people on the 
earth plane. 


In five years, ever so many more will be wanting 
to know about the life to come, and how they shall 
live on the earth plane so that they shall have a' 
pretty good life when they pass on. They'll do it, 
if only as a wise precaution. But the more they 
know, the higher lines people will be going on. 
M. F. A. L. Did you see me reading the sitting to your 
father ? 

I'm going to stop father from feeling tired. 
Chap with red feather helping. Isn't it wonderful 
that I can be near you and father ? 

Some people ask me, are you pleased with 
where your body lies ? I tell them I don't care a 
bit, I've no curiosity about my body now. It's 
like an old coat that I've done with, and hope 
some one will dispose of it. I don't want flowers 
on my body. Flowers in house, in Raymond's 

M. F. A. L. Can he tell the kind of flowers I put for him 
on his birthday ? 

(Feda, sotto voce. Try and tell Feda.) 

Doesn't seem able to get it. 

Don't think he knew. I can't get it through. 
Don't think I don't appreciate them. Sees some 
yellow and some white. 

He thinks it is some power he takes from the 
medium which makes for him a certain amount of 
physical sight. He can't see properly. 
M. F. A. i. Can he tell me where I got the flowers from 
for his birthday ? 

(Feda, sotto voce. Flowers doesn't grow now. 
Winter here !) 

Yes, they do. Thinks they came from home. 

(Feda, sotto voce. Try and tell me any little 

He means they came from .bis ow& garden. 

[Yes, they did, It was yellow jasmine, cut 
from the garden at Mariemont. M. F. A. L.] 

Paul's worried 'cos medium talk like book. 
Paul calls Feda ' Imp.' Raymond sometimes calls 
Feda ' Illustrious One.' I think Yaymond laugh- 
ing ! Always pretending Feda very little, and that 


they've lost Feda, afraid of walking on her, but 
Feda pinches them sometimes, pretend they've 
trodden on Feda. But Feda just as tall as lots of 
M. F. A. L. Isn't Feda tired now ? 

M. F. A. L. I think Raymond must be. 

Well, power is going. 

M. F. A. L. Anyhow, I must go. Some one perhaps of 
your brothers will come soon. 

I want no heralds or flourish of trumpets, let 
them come and see if I can get through to them. 
M. F. A. L. (I here said something about myself , I forget ; 
I think it was about being proud.) 

If I see any signs, I'll take you in hand at once ; 
it shall be nipped in the bud ! 

Good night. 
M. F. A. L. Do you sleep ? 

Well, I doze. 
M. F. A. L. Do you have rain ? 

Well, you can go to a place where rain is. 
M. F. A. L. Do you know that your father is having all 
the sittings bound together in a book ? 

It will be very interesting to see how I change as 
I go on. 

Good night. 


It must be remembered that all this, though reported in the 
first person, really comes through Feda ; and though her style 
and grammar improve in the more serious portions, due allow- 
ance must be made for this fact. 


O. J. L. ON MARCH 3, 1916 

ON the morning of 3 March I had a sitting in 
Mrs. Kennedy's house with a Mrs. Clegg, a fairly 
elderly dame whose peculiarity is that she allows 
direct control by the communicator more readily than 
most mediums do. 

Mrs. Kennedy has had Mrs. Clegg two or three times to 
her house, and Paul has learnt how to control her pretty 
easily, and is able to make very affectionate demonstra- 
tions and to talk through the organs of the medium, 
though in rather a jerky and broken way. She accord- 
ingly kindly arranged an anonymous sitting for me. 

The sitting began with sudden clairvoyance, which was 
unexpected. It was a genuine though not a specially suc- 
cessful sitting, and it is worth partially reporting because 
of the reference to it which came afterwards through 
another medium, on the evening of the same day ; 
making a simple but exceptionally clear and natural cross 

Anonymous Sitting of 0. /. L. with Mrs. Clegg 

At 11.15 a.m. on Friday, 3 March 1916, I arrived at 
Mrs. Kennedy's, went up and talked to her in the drawing- 
room till nearly 11.30, when Mrs. Clegg arrived. 

She came into the room while I was seeing to the fire, 
spoke to Mrs. Kennedy, and said, " Oh, is this the gentle- 
man that I am to sit with ? " She was then given a 
seat in front of the fire, being asked to get quiet after her 
omnibus journey. But she had hardly seated herself 
before she said : 



" Oh, this room is so full of people ; oh, some one so 
eager to come ! I hear some one say ' Sir Oliver Lodge.' 
Do you know anyone of that name ? " 

I said, yes, I know him. 

Mrs. Kennedy got up to darken the room slightly, and 
Mrs. Clegg ejaculated : 

" Who is Raymond, Raymond, Raymond ? He is 
standing close to me." 

She was evidently going off into a trance, so we moved 
her chair back farther from the fire, and without more 
preparation she went off. 

For some time, however, nothing further happened, 
except contortions, struggling to get speech, rubbings of 
the back as if in some pain or discomfort there, and a 
certain amount of gasping for breath. 

Mrs. Kennedy came to try and help, and to give power. 
She knelt by her side and soothed her. I sat and waited. 

Presently the utterance was distinguished as, " Help 
me, where's the doctor ? " 

After a time, with K. K.'s help, the control seemed 
to get a little clearer, and the words, " So glad ; father; 
love to mother; so glad," frequently repeated in an 
indistinct and muffled tone of voice, were heard, followed 
by, "Love to all of them." 

Nothing was put down at the time, for there seemed 
nothing to record it seemed only preliminary effort ; and 
in so far as anything was said, it consisted merely of simple 
messages of affection, and indications of joy at being able 
to come through, and of disappointment at not being able 
to do better. The medium, however, went through a 
good deal of pantomime, embracing me, stroking my arm, 
patting my knees, and sometimes stroking my head, 
sometimes also throwing her arms round me and giving 
the impression of being overjoyed, but unable to speak 

Then other dumb show was begun. He seemed to be 
thinking of the things in his kit, or things which had been 
in his possession, and trying to enumerate them. He in- 
dicated that his revolver had not come back, and that in 
his diary the last page was not written up. I promised to 
complete it. 

After a time, utterance being so difficult, I gave the 


medium a pad and pencil, and asked for writing. The 
writing was large and sprawly, single words : Captain ' 
among them. 

While Raymond was speaking, and at intervals, the 
medium kept flopping over to one side or the other, 
hanging on the arm of her chair with head down, or else 
drooping forward, or with head thrown back assuming 
various limp and wounded attitudes. Though every now 
and then she seemed to make an effort to hold herself up, 
and once or twice crossed knees and sat up firm, with arms 
more or less folded. But the greater part of the time she 
was flopping about. 

Presently Raymond said ' Good-bye,' and a Captain 
was supposed to control. She now spoke in a vigorous 
martial voice, as if ordering things, but saying nothing of 
any moment. 

Then he too went away, and ' Hope ' appeared, who, 
I am told, is Mrs. Clegg's normal control. Hope was able 
to talk reasonably well, and what she said I recorded for 
what it might be worth, but I omit the record, because 
though it contained references to people and things outside 
the knowledge of the medium or Mrs. Kennedy, and was 
therefore evidential as regards the genuineness and honesty 
of the medium, it was not otherwise worth reporting, unless 
much else of what was said on the same subjects by other 
mediums were reported too. 

On the evening of this same 3rd of March i.e. later in 
the same day that I had sat with Mrs. Clegg I went alone 
to Mrs. Leonard's house and had rather a remarkable 
sitting, at which full knowledge of the Clegg performance 
was shown. It is worthy therefore of some careful 

After reading this part, the above very abbreviated 
record of the Clegg sitting, held some hours before in 
another house and other conditions, should again be 
read. I wish to call attention to the following 3rd of 
March sitting as one of the best ; other members of the 
family have probably had equally good ones, but my 
notes are fuller. I hope it is fully understood that the 
mannerisms are Feda's throughout. 


Sitting oj 0. J. L. with Mrs. Leonard at her House on Friday, 

3 March 1916, Jrom 9.15 p.m. to 11.15 P- m - 

(O. J. L. alone.) 

No preliminaries to report. Feda came through 
quickly, jerked in the chair, and seemed very pleased 
to find me. 

(I asked if she had seen Raymond lately.) 
Oh yes, Yaymond's here. 

He came to help Feda with the lady and gentle- 
man on Monday, Feda thinks it was. Not quite 
sure when. But there was a lady and gentleman, 
and he came to help ; and Feda said, " Go away, 
Yaymond ! " He said, " No, I've come to stay." 
He wouldn't go away, and he did help them through 
with their boy. 

[The reference here is to a sitting which a col- 
league of mine, Professor and Mrs. Sonnen- 
schein, had had, unknown to me, with Mrs. 
Leonard. I learnt afterwards that the ar- 
rangements had been made by them in a 
carefully anonymous manner, the corre- 
spondence being conducted via a friend in 
Darlington ; so that they were only known 
to Mrs. Leonard as " a lady and gentle- 
man from Darlington." They had re- 
ported to me that their son Christopher 
had sent good and evidential messages, and 
that Raymond had turned up to help. It 
was quite appropriate for Raymond to take 
an interest in them and bring their son, 
since Christopher Sonnenschein had been an 
engineering fellow-student with Raymond 
at Birmingham. But there was no earthly 
reason, so far as Mrs. Leonard's knowledge 
was concerned, for him to put in an appear- 
ance ; and indeed Feda at first told him to 
' Go away/ until he explained that he 
had come to help. Hence the mention of 
Raymond, under the circumstances, was 


He's only been once to help beside this, and 
then he said, Don't tell the lady he was helping. 
[See below.] 

He's been with Paulie to-day, to Paulie's 
mother's. He says he's been at Paulie's house, 
but not with Mrs. Kathie, with another lady, a 
medie, Feda thinks. She was older than this one ; a 
new one to him. 1 He wanted to speak through her, 
but he found it was difficult Paul manages it all 
right, he says, but he finds it difficult. He says he 
started to get through, and then he didn't feel like 
himself. It's awful strange when one tries to 
control anybody. He wanted to very bad ; he 
almost had them. (Sotto voce. What you mean, 
Yaymond ?) He says he thought he almost had 
them. He means he nearly got through. Oh, he 
says, he's not given it up ; he's going to try again. 
What worries him is that he doesn't feel like him- 
self. You know, father, I might be anybody. He 
says, Do you believe that in that way, practice 
makes perfect ? 

o. J. L. Yes, I'm sure it gets easier with practice. 

Oh, then he'll practise dozens of times, if he 
thinks it will be any good. 

o. J. L. Did he like the old woman ? 

Oh yes ; she's a very good sort. 

o. J. L. Who Wets there sitting ? 

[This question itself indicates, what was the 
fact, that I had so far given no recognition 
to the statement that Raymond had been 
trying to control a medium on the morning 
of that same day. I wanted to take what 
came through, without any assistance.] 

He's not sure, because he didn't seem to get all 
properly into the conditions ; it was like being in 
a kind of mist, in a fog. He felt he was getting 
hold of the lady, but he didn't quite know where 
he was. He'd got something ready to say, and he 

1 This shows clear and independent knowledge of the sitting which 
I had held with Mrs. Clegg that same morning (see early parts of this 



started to try and say it, and it seemed as if he 
didn't know where he was. 

[Feda reports sometimes in the third person, 
sometimes in the first.] 

What does she flop about for, father ? / don't 
want to do that ; it bothered me rather, I didn't 
know if I was making her ill or something. Paulie 
said she thought it was the correct thing to do ! 
But I wish she wouldn't. If she would only 
keep quiet, and let me come calmly, it would be 
much easier. Mrs. Kathie [Feda's name for Mrs. 
Katherine Kennedy] tries to help all she can, but 
it makes such a muddled condition. I might not 
be able to get a test through, even when I con- 
trolled better ; I should have to get quite at home 
there, before I could give tests through her. He 
and Paulie used to joke about the old lady, but 
they don't now. Paul manages to control ; he 
used to see Paulie doing it. I will try again, he 
says, and I will try again. It's worth trying a 
few times, then I can get my bearings, and I feel 
that what I wanted to say beforehand I will be 
able to get through. 

Feda has an idea that what he had saved up to 
say was only just the usual messages. He had got 
them ready in his head ; he had learnt it up just a 
few words. Paulie told him he had better do that, 
and then (oh, you had bettpr not tell Mrs. Kathie 
this, for it isn't polite !) and then Paulie told him 
to spit it out . And that 's what he tried to do j ust 
to say the few words that he had learnt up. He 
just wanted to say how pleased he was to see you. 
.He wanted also to speak about his mother, and 
to bring in, if he could, about having talked to you 
through Feda. Just simple things like that. He 
had to think of simple things, because Paulie had 
told him that it was no good trying to think of 
anything in-tri-cate. 

[Feda always pronounces what she no doubt 
considers long words in a careful and drawn- 
out manner.] 

He didn't see clearly, but he felt. He had a 


good idea that you were there, and that Mrs. 
Kathie was there, but he wasn't sure ; he was all 
muddled up. Poor Mrs. Kathie was doing her best. 
He says, Don't change the conditions, if you try it 
again. He never quite knows whether he is going 
to have good conditions or not. He wanted to 
speak about all this. That's all about that. 

[This is a completely accurate reference to what 
had happened with Mrs. Clegg in the morn- 
ing of the same day. Everything is properly 
and accurately represented. It is the best 
thing about the sitting perhaps, though there 
are many good things in it.] 
[The next incident concerns other people and 
I usually omit these but I propose to in- 
clude this one.] 

About the lady he tried to help the one that he 
didn't want Feda to tell who he was (p. 241). 

He was helping through a man who had got 
drownded. This lady had had no belief nor nothing 
in spiritual things before. The guides brought her 
to Feda, that she might speak with a dear friend of 
hers. I helped him, he says, and got both of his 
initials through to her E. A. 
o. J. L. Do I know these people ? 

Yes, you write a lot to the lady. 
[I remembered afterwards that I had had some 
correspondence with a lady who was told at 
a sitting, apparently by Raymond, that I 
knew a Dr. A. She was and is a stranger, 
but for this curious introduction.] 
o. j. L Is A the surname ? 

Yes, the spirit's, not the lady's. The lady 
doesn't know that he [Raymond] is telling you this. 
And she doesn't know that he helped her. He says, 
It's for your own use, father. It's given her a new 
outlook on life. 

o. j. L. I have no idea who she is. Can you get her 
name ? 

Oh yes, she's a lady called Mrs. D. [Full name 
given easily, but no doubt got from the sitter 
in ordinary course.] And before, you see, she 


was living a worldly life. She was interested in a 
way, but not much. She never tried to come into 
it. When she came, she thought she would have 
her fortune told. Raymond was waiting for her to 
come, and brought up the right conditions at once. 
The man was a nice man, he liked him, and he wanted 
to bring her into it . The man was fond of her. Ray- 
mond has been helping him a lot. He says, I can 
only help in a small way, but if you could go round 
and see the people just on the verge of learning 
something ! I can't help them in a big way, but 
still, it's something important even what I can do. 
For every one I bring in like that lady, there will be 
a dozen coming from that. 

o. j. L. (still remembering nothing about these people). 
Did the man drown himself ? 

Oh no, he wented down in a boat ; they nearly 
all wented down together. 

The lady wasn't expecting him she nearly 
flopped over when he came. 
o. J. L. Was he related to the lady ? 

No, but he had been the biggest thing in her life. 
He says it seemed as though she must have felt 
something, to make her write to you. 
o. j. L. However did Raymond know that she had 
written to me ? 

Feda doesn't know. (Sotto voce. Tell Feda, 

Do you believe me, father, I really can't tell you 
how I know some things. It's not through inquiry, 
but sometimes I get it just like a Marconi apparatus 
receives a message from somewhere, and doesn't 
know where it comes from at first. Sometimes I 
try to find out things, and I can't. 

[I perceived gradually that this episode related 
to some one named E. A. (unknown to me), 
about whom I had been told at a Feda sit- 
ting on Friday, 28 January 1916, Raymond 
seeming to want me to speak to E. A.'s 
father about him. And in a note to that 
sitting it is explained how I received a letter 
shortly afterwards from a stranger, a Mrs. D.; 


who consulted me about informing Dr. A. 
of the appearance of his son. The whole 
episode is an excellent one, but it concerns 
other people, and if narrated at all must be 
narrated more fully and in another place. 
Suffice it to say that the son had been lost in 
tragic circumstances, and that the father is 
impressed by the singular nature of the evi- 
dence that has now been given through the 
lady a special visit to Scotland having been 
made by her for that express purpose. She 
had not known the father before, but she 
found him and his house as described ; 
and he admits the details as surprisingly 

Here is the extract from my sitting of 28 January 1916 
relating to this affair : 


He has met somebody called E., Raymond has. He 
doesn't know who it is, but wonders if you do. 
O. J. L. Is she an old lady ? 

It's a man, he says. He was drownded. I have helped 
him a bit, at least I tried, he says. He passed on before 
Raymond did. 
O. J. L. Did he drown himself ? 

Raymond doesn't say that. His name was E. He was 
from Scotland. You will know his father. 

Raymond says, I have got a motive in this, father ; 
I don't want to say too much, and I don't want to say too 
little. You have met E.'s father, and you will meet him 
again ; he comes from Scotland. Raymond is not quite 
certain, but he thinks he is in Scotland now. His father's 
name begins with an A, so the other man is E. A. He 
was fighting his ship. Raymond thinks they was all 
drownded. He's older than Raymond. Raymond says 
he's a pretty dark chap. You know his father best, I 
don't know whether you knew the other chap at all. You 
have known his father for some years, but you don't often 
get a chance of meeting. I have got an idea that you will 
be hearing from him soon. Then you will be able to un- 
load this on to him. They are trying to bring it about, 
that meeting with the father of E. 


O. J. L. I could make a guess at the surname, but perhaps I had 

better not. 

/ No, don't. You know I'm not always sure of my facts. 

^' I I know pretty well how things are, and I think I am pretty 

safe in saying that it is Scotland. He gives D. also, 

That's not a person, it's a place. Some place not far from 

it, called D., he says. It's near, not the place, where he 

lives. ' Flanked/ he calls it, * flanked ' on the other 

side by L. They never knew how E. passed on really. 

They know he was drowned, but not how it happened. 

On receiving this message I felt that the case was a genuine 

one, and that I did know a Dr. A. precisely as described. And I 

also gradually remembered that he had lost a son at sea, though I 

did not know the son. But I felt that I must wait for further 

particulars before broaching what might be an unpalatable 

subject to Dr. A. 

(End of extract from 28 January 1916.) 

Ultimately I did receive further particulars as narrated 
above, and so a month later I did go to call on the old 
Doctor, after the ice had been broken by Mrs. D., who in 
some trepidation had made a special journey for the pur- 
pose, and then nearly came away without opening the 
subject, and I verified the trance description of his 
house which Mrs. D. had received and sent me. Indeed, 
all the facts stated turned out to be true. 

The sitting of 3 March, now being reported, and inter- 
rupted by this quotation from a previous sitting, went 
on thus : 

He took his mother some red roses, and he wants 
you to tell her. He took them to her from the spirit 
world, they won't materialise, but I gathered some 
and took them to her. This isn't a test, father, 
o. j. L. No. Very well, you just want her to know. I 
will tell her. 

(A little talk omitted.) 

o. j. L. Do you want to say anything about the other 
two people that you helped last Monday, I think 
it was ? [The Sonnenscheins ; still only known 
to Mrs. Leonard as a lady and gentleman from 

No, there's nothing much to tell you about 
that, or about them. But he brought a son to 


them. He stood on one side so as not to take 
any of the power. He just came at first to show 
Feda it was all right, and he just came in at the 
end to send his love, 
o. j. L. Why did he help those particular people? 

[I knew why, but I thought proper to ask, since 
from the medium's point of 'view there was 
no reason at all.] 

He says he had to. They have been worrying 
about whether their son had suffered much pain 
before he passed on. There seems to have been 
some uncertainty about as to whether he had or 
not. His body wasn't recovered as soon as it 
ought to have been. But he didn't suffer much. 
He was numbed, and didn't as a matter of fact 
feel much. He throwed up his arms, and rolled 
down a bank place. 

[Christopher Sonnenschein was killed by falling 
down a snow mountain, and his body was 
not recovered for five days.] 
o. j. L. Did you know these people before ? 

Yes. He says, yes. But he won't tell Feda 
who they is. 
o. j. L. Does he want to send them any message ? 

He says nothing further has come out, except 
that he is getting on very well, and that he was 
pleased. You might tell them that he is happier 
now. Yes, he is, since he seed them. 

[The sitting referred to here, as having been 
held by a lady and gentleman last Monday, 
refers to my colleague and his wife and their 
deceased son Christopher. Their identity 
had been completely masked by the 
arrangements they had made, without my 
knowledge. The letters making arrange- 
ments were sent round by Darlington to be 
posted, in order to cover up tracks and re- 
move all chance of a discoverable connexion 
with me. (See p. 240.) Hence it is in- 
teresting that Raymond turned up to help, 
for in their normal life the two youths had 
known each other.] 


He has been trying to help you since he saw 
you here last time. He thought that you knew 
that he was. He did try hard. He says, I helped 
you in such a funny way. I got near you and felt 
such a desire to help you and prevent you from 
getting tired. He was concentrating on the 
back of your head, and sort of saying to him- 
self, and impressing the thought towards you : 
" It's coming easy, you shan't get tired, the brain 
is going to be very receptive, everything is going 
to flow through it easily in order." I feel myself 
saying it all the time, and I get so close I nearly 
lean on you. To my great delight, I saw you sit 
up once, and you said : " Ah, that's good/' It was 
some little time back, 
o, j. L. I speak to your photograph sometimes. 

Yes. I can speak to you without a photo- 
graph ! I am often with you, very often. 

He's taking Feda into a room with a desk in it ; 
too big for a desk, it must be a table. A sort of a 
desk, a pretty big one. A chair is in front of it, 
not a chair like that, a high up chair, more wooden, 
not woolly stuff ; and the light is falling on to the 
desk ; and you are sitting there with a pen or 
pencil in your hand ; you aren't writing much, 
but you are looking through writing, and making 
bits of writing on it ; you are not doing all the 
writing yourself, but only bits on it. Raymond is 
standing at the back of you ; he isn't looking at 
what you are doing. [The description is correct.] 

He thought you were tired out last time you 
came here. He knows you are sometimes. He's 
been wanting to say to you, " Leave some of it." 
O. J. L. But there's so much to be done. 

Yes, he knows it isn't easy to leave, it. But it 
would be better in the end if you can leave a bit, 
father. You are doing too much. 

You know that I am longing and dying for the 
day when you come over to me. It will be a 
splendid day for me. But I mustn't be selfish. 
I have got to work to keep you away from us, and 
that's not easy for me. 


He says that lots over here talk, and say that 
you will be doing the most wonderful work of 
your life through the war. People are ready to, 
listen now. They had too many things before to 
let them think about them ; but now it's the great 
thing to think about the after-life. 

I want you to know that when first I came over 
here, I thought it a bit unfair that such a lot of 
fellows were coming over in the prime of life, 
coming over here. But now he sees that for every 
one that came over, dozens of people open their 
eyes, and want to know where he has gone to. 
Directly they want to know, they begin to learn 
something. Some of them never stopped to think 
seriously before. " He must be somewhere/' they 
say, " he was so full of life ; can we find out ? " 
Then I see that through this, people are going to 
find out, and find out not only for themselves, but 
will pass it on to many others, and so it will grow. 

He wants to tell you that Mr. Myers says that 
in ten years from now the world will be a different 
place. He says that about fifty per cent, of the 
civilised portion of the globe will be either 
spiritualists, or coming into it. 
O. j. L. Fifteen per cent. ? 

Fifty, he said. 

Raymond says, I am no judge of that, but he 
isn't the only one that thinks it. He says, I've 
got a kind of theory, in a crude sort of way, that 
man has made the earth plane into such a hotbed 
of materialism and selfishness, that man again has 
to atone by sacrifices of mankind in the prime of 
their physical life. So that by that prime self- 
effacement, they will bringmore spiritual conditions 
on to the earth, which will crush the spirit of 
materialism. He says that isn't how I meant to 
put it, but I've forgotten how I meant to say it. 
o. j. L. Well now, Raymond, Mr. Myers sent me a 
message to say that you had got some tests ready 
to get through, and that I was to give you an 
opportunity of giving them. 

Oh yes, he says. But I can't get anything 


through about the Argonauts : that seems worst of 

He's showing Feda a thing that looks like a 
canvas house. Yes, it must be a canvas house. 
And it looks to Feda as though it's on a place that 
seems to be open a wide place. Yes, no, there's 
not much green showing where Feda can see. 
There's a kind of a door in it, like that. (Feda 
made some sign I didn't catch.) The canvas is 
sort of grey, quite a light colour, but not quite 
white. Oh yes, Feda feels the sound of water 
not far from it ripple, ripple. Feda sees a boy 
not Raymond half lying, half sitting at the door of 
the tent place, and he hasn't got a proper coat on ; 
he's got a shirt thing on here, and he's like spreaded 
out. It's a browny-coloured earth, not nice green, 
but sandy-coloured ground. As Feda looks at the 
land, the ground rises sharp at the back. Must 
have been made to rise, it sticks up in the air. 
He's showing it as though it should be in some 
photograph or picture. Feda got wondering 
about it, what it was for. It's a funny-shaped 
tent, not round, sort of lop-sided. The door 
isn't a proper door, it flops. You ought to be 
able to see a picture of this. [See photographs 
o. j. L. Has it got to do with the Argonauts ? 

o. j. L. Oh, it's not Coniston then ? 

o. j. L. Is it by the sea ? 

Near the water, he says ; he doesn't say the sea. 
No, he won't say that ; he says, near water. It 
looks hot there. 
o. j. L. Will the boys know ? 

You will know soon about it, he says. 

Feda gets a feeling that there are two or three 
moving about inside that tent. 
o. j. L. Is it all one chamber in the tent ? 

He didn't say that. He was going to say, no, 
and then he stopped to think. No, I don't think 
it was, it was divided off. 




[See photographs of two forms of this tent.] 

Now he is showing something right on top of 
that. Now he is showing Feda a yacht, a boat 
with white sails. Now he is going back to the 
tent again. The raised up land is at the back of 
the tent, well set back. It doesn't give an even 
sticking up, but it goes right along, with bits up 
and bits lower down. 

[The description could not be completely taken 
down, but it gave the impression of a raised 
bank of varying height, behind an open 
space, and a tent in front of it. It quite 
suggested that sort of picture.] 
[See photograph facing p. 252.] 

Maps, what's that ? Maps, maps, he says. 
He's saying something about maps. This is 
something that the boys will know. Poring, he 
says. Not pouring anything out, but poring 
over maps. Ask the boys. [See note after 
further reference to maps later in the sitting.] 
o. j. L. What about that yacht with sails ; did it run on 
the water ? 

No. (Feda, sotto voce. Oh, Raymond, don't be 
silly !) He says, no. (Feda. It must have done !) 
He's showing Feda like a thing on land, yes, a 
land thing. It's standing up, like edgeways. A 
narrow thing. No, it isn't water, but it has got 
nice white sails. 
o. j. L. Did it go along ? 

He says it DIDN'T ! He's laughing ! When 
he said ' didn't ' he shouted it. Feda should have 
said, ' He laid peculiar emphasis on it/ This is for 
the boys, 
o. j. L. Had they got to do with that thing ? 

Yes, they will know, they will understand. 
Yes, he keeps on showing like a boat a yacht, he 
calls it, a yacht. 

[See note below and photographs.] 

Now he is showing Feda some figures. Some- 
thing flat, like a wall. Rods and things, long rods. 
Some have got little round things shaking on them, 


like that. And he's got strings, some have got 
strings. * Strings ' isn't the right word, but it will 
do. Smooth, strong, string-like. In the corner, 
where it's a little bit dark, some one is standing 
up and leaning against something, and a piece of 
stuff is flapping round them. 

Now he is saying again something about maps. 
He's going to the maps again. It isn't a little 
map, but it's one you can unfold and fold up small. 
And they used to go with their fingers along it, like 
that not he only, but the boys. And it wasn't at 
home, but when they were going somewhere 
some distance from home. And Feda gets the 
impression as though they must be looking at the 
map when it was moving. They seem to be moving 
smoothly along, like in one of those horrible trains. 
Feda has never been in a train. 

[The mention of folded-up maps cannot be 
considered important, but it is appropriate, 
because many of the boys' common remin- 
iscences group round long motor drives in 
Devonshire and Corjiwall, when they must 
frequently have been consulting the kind 
of map described.] \ , 

[Note by 0. J. L. on Tent and Boat. All this 
about the tent and boat is excellent, though 
not outside my knowledge. The descrip- 
tion of the scenery showed plainly that it 
was Woolacombe sands that was meant 
whither the family had gone in the summer 
for several years a wide open stretch of 
sand, with ground rising at the back, as de- 
scribed, and with tents along under the bank, 
one of which a big one had been made 
by the boys. It was on wheels, it had 
two chambers with a double door, and was 
used for bathing by both the boys and girls. 
Quite a large affair, oblong in shape, like a 
small cottage. One night a gale carried it 
up to the top of the sand-hills and wrecked it . 
We saw it from the windows in the morning. 





The boys pulled it to pieces, and made a 
smaller tent of the remains, this time with 
only one chamber, and its shape was now a 
bit lop-sided. I felt in listening to the de- 
scription that there was some hesitation in 
Raymond's mind as to whether he was 
speaking of the first or the second stage of 
this tent. 

As for the sand-boat, it was a thing they like- 
wise made at Mariemont, and carted down 
to Woolacombe. A kind of long narrow 
platform or plank on wheels, with a rudder 
and sails. At first, when it had small sails, 
it only went with a light passenger and a 
strong wind behind. But in a second season 
they were more ambitious, and made bigger 
sails to it, and that season I believe it went 
along the sands very fast occasionally ; but 
it still wouldn't sail at right angles to the 
wind as they wanted. They finally smashed 
the mast by sailing in a gale with three 
passengers. There had been ingenuity in 
making it, and Raymond had been particu- 
larly active over it, as he was over all con- 
structions. On the whole it was regarded 
as a failure, the wheels were too small ; and 
Raymond's ' DIDN'T ' is quite accepted. 

References to these things were evidently some 
of the tests (p. 249) which he had got together 
for transmission to me. [See photographs.] 

The rod and rings and strings, mentioned after 
the ' boat,' I don't at present understand. 
So far as I have ascertained, the boys don't 
understand either, at present.] 

I don't know whether I have got anything 

more that I can really call a test. You will have 

to take, he says (he's laughing now) take the 

information about the old lady as a test. 

o. j. L. You mean what he began with ? [i.e. about Mrs. 



o. j. L. Well, it's a very good one. 

He's been trying to find somebody whose name 
begins with K. But it isn't Mrs. Kathie, it's a 
gentleman. He's been trying to find him. 
o. j. L. What for ? 

He thought his mother would be interested. 
There's something funny about this. One is in the 
spirit world, but one they believe is still on the 
earth plane. He hasn't come over yet. [One of 
the two referred to is certainly dead ; the other 
may possibly, but very improbably, be a prisoner.] 
There's a good deal of mystery about this, but 
I'm sure he isn't actually come over yet. Some 
people think that because we are here, we have 
only to go anywhere we choose, and find out any- 
thing we like. But that's Tommy-rot. They are 
limited, but they send messages to each other, and 
what he sincerely believes is, that that man has 
not passed on. 
o. j. L. Mother thinks he has, and so do his people. 

Yes, yes. I don't know whether it would be 
advisable to tell them anything, but I have a 
feeling that he isn't here. I have been looking for 
him everywhere. 

He keeps on building up a J. He doesn't 
answer when Feda asks what that is. He says 
there will be a few surprises for people later on. 
o. j. L. Well, I take it that he wants me to understand 
that J. K. is on our side ? 

Yes, he keeps nodding his head. Yes, in the 
body. Mind, he says, I've got a feeling I can 
only call it a feeling that he has been hurt, 
practically unconscious. Anyway, time will prove 
if I am right. 
o. j. L. I hope he will continue to live, and come back. 

I hope so too. Except for the possible doubt 
about it, I would say tell them at once. But after 
all they are happier in thinking that he has gone 
over, than that he's in some place undergoing 
terrible privations. 

Now he's saying something carefully to Feda. 
He says they should not go by finding a stick. He 


wants you to put that down they ought not to 
go by finding a stick. 

o. j. L. Oh, they found a stick, did they ? 
Yes, that's how, yes. 

[I clearly understood that this statement re- 
ferred to a certain Colonel, about whom 
there was uncertainty for months. But 
a funeral service has now been held 
an impressive one, which M. F. A. L. 
attended. On inquiry from her, I find 
(what I didn't know at the time of the 
sitting) that the evidence of his death is a 
riding- whip, which they found in the hands 
of an unrecognisable corpse. From some 
initials on this riding-whip, they thought it 
belonged to him ; and on this evidence'have 
concluded him dead. So far as I know, 
they entertain no doubt about it. At any 
rate, we have heard none expressed, either 
publicly or privately. Hence, the informa- 
tion now given may possibly turn out of 
interest, though there is always the possi- 
bility that, if he is a prisoner in Germany, 
he may not survive the treatment. He was 
leading an attack on the Hohenzollern Re- 
doubt when he fell ; he was seen to fall, 
wounded ; there was great slaughter, and 
when at night his man returned to try and 
find him, he could not be found. This is 
my recollection of the details, but of course 
they can be more accurately given. At 
what period the whip was found, I don't 
know, but can ascertain.] (See also p. 266.) 

[No further news yet September 1916. But 
I must confess that I think the information 
extremely unlikely. O. J. L.] 

o. j. L. Does he remember William, our gardener ? 

Feda doesn't know what he means, but he says 
something about coming over. (Feda, sotto voce. 
Tell Feda what you mean.) 


He doesn't give it very clearly. Feda gets an 
idea that he means coming over there. Yes, he 
does mean into the spirit world. Feda asks him, 
did he mean soon ; but he shakes his head. 
o. j. L. Does he mean that he has come already ? 

He doesn't get that very clearly. He keeps 
saying, coming over, coming over, and when Feda 
asked ' Soon ? ' he shook his head, as if getting cross. 
O. J. L. If he sees him, perhaps he will help him. 

Of course he will. He hasn't seen him yet. 
No, he hasn't seen him. 

[I may here record that William, the gardener, 
died within a week before the sitting, and that 
Raymond here clearly indicates a knowledge, 
either of his death or of its imminence.] 
It's difficult when people approach you, and 
say they knew your father or your mother ; you 
don't quite know what to say to them ! 
o. j. L. Yes, it must be a bother. Do you remember a 
bird in our garden ? 

(Feda, sotto voce. Yes, hopping about?) 
O. J. L. No, Feda, a big bird. 

Of course, not sparrows, he says ! Yes, he does. 
(Feda, sotto voce. Did he hop, Yaymond ?) No, 
he says you couldn't call it a hop. 

o. j. L. Well, we will go on to something else now ; I 
don't want to bother him about birds. Ask him 
does he remember Mr. Jackson ? 

Yes. Going away, going away, he says. He 
used to come to the door. (Feda, sotto voce. Do you 
know what he means ? Anyone can come to the 
door !) He used to see him every day, he says, every 
day. (Sotto voce. What did he do, Yaymond ?) 

He says, nothing. (I can't make out what he 
says.) He's thinking. It's Feda's fault, he says. 
o. J. L. Well, never mind. Report anything he says, 
whether it makes sense or not. 

He says he fell down. He's sure of that. He 
hurt himself. He builds up a letter T, and he 
shows a gate, a small gate looks like a foot-path ; 
not one in the middle of a town. Pain in hands 
and arms. 


o. j. L. Was he a friend of the family ? 

No. No, he says, no. He gives Feda a feeling 
of tumbling, again he gives a feeling as though 
(Feda thinks Y ay mond's joking) he laughed. He 
was well known among us, he says ; and yet, he 
says, not a friend of the family. Scarcely a day 
passed without his name being mentioned. He's 
joking, Feda feels sure. He's making fun of Feda. 
o. j. L. No, tell me all he says. 

He says, put him on a pedestal. No, that they 
put him on a pedestal, lie was considered very 
wonderiul. And he 'specs that he wouldn't have 
appreciated it, if he had known; but he didn't 
know, he says. Not sure if he ever will, he says. 
It sounds nonsense, what he says. Feda has got 
an impression that he's mixing him up with the 
bird, because he said something about ' bird ' in 
the middle of it just while he said something 
about Mr. Jackson, and then he pulled himself up, 
and changed it again. Just before he said ' pedestal \ 
he said ' line bird/ and then he stopped. In trying 
to answer the one, he got both mixed up, Mr. 
Jackson and the bird. 
o. J. L. How absurd ! Perhaps he's getting tired. 

He won't say he got this mixed up ! But he 
did ! Because he said ' fine bird/ and then he 
started off about Mr. Jackson. 
o. j. L. What about the pedestal ? 

On a pedestal, he said. 

o. j. L. Would he like him put on a pedestal? 
No, he doesn't say nothing. 
[Contemporary Note by 0. /. L. The episode of 
Mr. Jackson and the bird is a good one. 
' Mr. Jackson ' is the comic name of our 
peacock. Within the last week he has died, 
partly, I fear, by the severe weather. But 
his legs have been rheumatic and trouble- 
some for some time ; and in trying to walk 
he of late has tumbled down on them. He 
was found dead in a yard on a cold morning 
with his neck broken. One of the last 
people I saw before leaving home for this 



sitting was a man whom Lady Lodge had 
sent to take the bird's body and have it 
stuffed. She showed him a wooden pedestal 
on which she thought it might be placed, and 
tail feathers were being sent with it. Hence, 
the reference to the pedestal, if not tele- 
pathic from me, shows a curious knowledge 
of what was going on. And the jocular 
withholding from Feda of the real meaning 
of Mr. Jackson, and the appropriate remarks 
made concerning him which puzzled Feda, 
were quite in Raymond's vein of humour. 
Perhaps it was unfortunate that I had mentioned 
a bird first, but I tried afterwards, by my 
manner and remarks, completely to dis- 
sociate the name Jackson from what I had 
asked before about the bird ; and Raymond 
played up to it. 

It may be that he acquires some of these con- 
temporary items of family information 
through sittings which are held in Marie- 
mont, where of course all family gossip is 
told him freely, no outsider or medium being 
present. But the death of Mr. Jackson, and 
the idea of having him stuffed and put on a 
pedestal, were very recent, and I was sur- 
prised that he had knowledge of them. I 
emphasise the episode as exceptionally 

He's trying to show Feda the side of a house ; 
not a wall, it has got glass. He's taking Feda 
round to it ; it has got glass stuff. Yes, and when 
you look in, it's like flowers inside and green stuff. 
He used to go there a lot be there, he says. Red- 
coloured pots. 
o. j. L. Is that anything to do with Mr. Jackson ? 

He's shaking his head now. That's where 
mother got the flowers from. Tell her, she will 

[There is more than one greenhouse that might 
be referred to. M. F. A. L. got the yellow 
jasmine, which she thinks is the flower re- 

* W." 



fcrred to, from the neighbourhood of one of 
them. And it is one on which the peacock 
used commonly to roost ; though whether 
the reference to it followed on, or had any 
connexion with, the peacock is uncertain, 
and seems to be denied.] 

Yes, he's not so clear now, Soliver. He has 
enjoyed himself. Sometimes he enjoys himself 
so much, he forgets to do the good things he pre- 
pared. I could stay for hours and hours, he says. 
But he's just as keen as you are in getting tests 
through. I think I have got some. When I go 
away, I pat myself on the back and think, That's 
something for them to say, " Old Raymond does 
remember something." What does aggravate him 
sometimes is that when he can't get things through, 
people think it's because he has forgotten. It isn't 
a case of forgetting. He doesn't forget anything. 
Father, do you remember what I told mother 
about the place I had been to, and whom I had been 
allowed to see ? What did they think of it ? 

[See M. F. A. L. sitting with Mrs. Leonard, 

4 February 1916, Chapter XX.] 

o. J. L. Well, the family thought that it wasn't like 

Ah, that's what I was afraid of. That's the 
awful part of it. 

O. J. L. Well, I don't suppose they knew your serious 

Before he gave that to his mother, he hesitated, 
and thought he wouldn't. And then he said, Never 
mind what they think now, I must let mother and 
father know. Some day they will know, and so, 
what does it matter ? 

He knew that they might think it was something 
out of a book, not me ; but perhaps they didn't 
know that side of me so well. 

o. j. L. No. But among the things that came back, 
there was a Bible with marked passages in it, and 
so I saw that you had thought seriously about 
these things. [Page ii.] 

Yes, he says. Yet there's something strange 


about it somehow. We are afraid of showing that 
side ; we keep it to ourselves, and even hide it. 
o. j. L. It must have been a great experience for you. 

I hadn't looked for it, I hadn't hoped for it, but 
it was granted. 

o. j. L. Do you think you could take some opportunity 
of speaking about it through some other medium, 
not Feda ? Because at present the boys think 
that Feda invented it. 

Yes, that's what they do think. He says he 
will try very hard. 

o. J. L. Have you ever seen that Person otherwise than 
at that time ? 

No, I have not seen Him, except as I told you ; 
he says, father, he doesn't come and mingle 
freely, here and there and everywhere. I mean, 
not in that sense ; but we are always conscious, 
and we feel him. We are conscious of his presence. 
But you know that people think that when they 
go over, they will be with him hand in hand, but 
of course they're wrong. 

He doesn't think he will say very much more 
about that now, not until he's able to say it through 
some one else. It may be that they will say it 
wrong, that it won't be right ; it may get twisted. 
Feda does that sometimes. (Feda, sotlo voce. No, 
Feda doesn't !) Yes she does, and that's why I 
say, go carefully. 

o. j. L. Has he been through another medium to a 
friend of mine lately ? 

[This was intended to refer to a sitting which 
Mr. Hill was holding with Peters about 
that date, and, as it turned out, on the same 

He doesn't say much. No, he doesn't say 
nothing about it. He hasn't got much power, and 
he's afraid that he might go wrong. 

Good-bye, lather, now. My love to you, my 
love to mother. I am nearer to you than ever 
before, and I'm not so silly about [not] showing it. 
Love to all of them. Lionel is a dear old chap. 
My love to all. 





Don't forget to tell mother about the roses I 
brought her. There's nothing to understand about 
them ; I just wanted her to know that I brought 
her some flowers. 

Good night, father. I am always thinking of 
you. God bless you all. 

Give Feda's love to SrAlec. 
o. j. L. Yes, I will, Feda. We are all fond of you. 

Yes, Feda feels it, and it lifts Feda up, and 
helps her. 

Mrs. Leonard speedily came-to, and seemed quite easy 
and well, although the sitting had been a long one, and it 
was now nearly 11.30 p.m. 

[I repeat in conclusion that this was an excellent sitting, 
with a good deal of evidential matter. 0. J. L.] 


ON 24 March, we had some more unverifiable 
material through Mrs. Leonard ; it was much less 
striking than that given on 4 February, and I am 
inclined myself to attribute a good deal of it to hypo- 
thetical information received by Feda from other sitters : 
but it seems unfair to suppress it. In accordance with 
my plan I propose to reproduce it for what it is worth. 

Sitting with Mrs. Leonard at our Flat, Friday, 24 March 
1916, from 5.45 p.m. to 8 p.m. 

(Present O. J. L. AND M. F. A. L.) 

(Mrs. Leonard arrived about 5.30 to tea, for a sitting 
with M. F. A. L. I happened to be able to come too, in 
order to take notes. She had just come away from an- 
other sitting, and had had some difficulty in getting rid 
of her previous sitter in time, which rather bothered her. 
The result was not specially conducive to lucidity, and the 
sitting seemed only a moderately good one. 

When Feda arrived she seemed pleased, and said : ) 

Yes it is, yes, it's Soliver ! 

How are you ? Raymond's here 1 
M. F. A. L. Is he here already ? 

Yes, of course he is ! 

(Feda, sotto voce. What's he say ? ) He says he 
hasn't come to play with Feda, or make jokes ; he's 
come about serious things. 

Do you remember, Miss Olive [Feda's name for 
Lady Lodge], some time ago, about that beautiful 


experience what he had ? He's so glad that you 
and Soliver know about it, even though the others 
can't take it in. Years hence he thinks they may. 
He says, over there, they don't mind talking about 
the real things, over there, 'cos they're the things 
that count. 

He thinks the one that took it in mostly was 
Lionel. Yes, it seemed to sink in mostly ; he was 
turning it over afterwards, though he didn't say 
much. He's more ready for that than the others. 
He says he would never have believed it when he 
was here, but he is. 

He hasn't been to that place again, not that 
same place. But he's been to a place just below it. 
He's been attending lectures, at what they call, 
" halls of learning " : you can prepare yourself for 
the higher spheres while you are living in lower ones. 
He's on the third, but he's told that even now he 
could go on to the fourth if he chose ; but he says he 
would rather be learning the laws ap-per-taining to 
each sphere while he's still living on the third, be- 
cause it brings him closer at least until you two 
have come over. He will stay and learn, where he is. 
He wouldn't like to go on there and then find it to 
be difficult to get back. He will wait till we can 
go happily and comfortably together ! 

Would it interest you for him to tell you about 
one of the places he's been to ? It's so interesting 
to him, that he might seem to exaggerate ; but the 
experience is so wonderful, it lives with him. 

He went into a place on the fifthsphere a place 
he takes to be made of alabaster. He's not sure 
that it really was, but it looked like that. It 
looked Like a kind of a temple a large one. There 
were crowds passing into this place, and they looked 
veryjL^ppy. And he thought, " I wonder what I'm 
going to see here." When he got mixed up with 
the crowd going into the temple, he felt a kind of 
(he's stopping to think). It's not irreverency what 
he says, but he felt a kind of feeling as if he had had 
too much champagne it went to his head, he felt 
too buoyant, as if carried a bit off the ground. 


That's 'cos he isn't quite attuned to the conditions 
of that sphere. It's a most extraordinary feeling. 
He went in, and he saw that though the building 
was white, there were many different lights : looked 
like certain places covered in red, and . . . was blue, 
and the centre was orange. These were not the 
crude colours that go by those names, but a soft- 
ened shade. And he looked to see what they came 
from. Then he saw that a lot of the windows were 
extremely large, and the panes in them had glass 
of these colours. And he saw that some of the 
people would go and stand in the pinky coloured 
light that came through the red glass, and others 
would stand in the blue light, and some would 
stand in the orange or yellow coloured light. And 
he thought, "What are they doing that for?" 
Then some one told him that the pinky coloured 
light was the light of the love-colour ;"and the blue 
was the light of actual spiritual healing ; and the 
orange was the light of intellect. And that, accord- 
ing to what people wanted, they would go and 
stand under that light. And the guide told him 
that it was more important than what people on 
earth knew. And that, in years to come, there 
would be made a study of the effect of different 

The pinky people looked clever and developed 
in their attitude and mentality generally ; but they 
hadn't been able to cultivate the love-interest much, 
their other interests had overpowered that one. 
And the people who went into the intellectual light 
looked softer and happy, but not so clever looking. 
He says he felt more drawn to the pink light him- 
self, but some one said, " No, you have felt a good 
deal of that," and he got out and went into the 
other two, and he felt that he liked the blue light 
best. And he thinks that perhaps you will read 
something into that. I had the other conditions, 
but I wanted the other so much. The blue seemed 
to call me more than the others. After I had been 
in it some time, I felt that nothing mattered much, 
except preparing for the spiritual life. He says 


that the old Raymond seemed far away at the time, 
as though he was looking back on some one else's 
life some one I hadn't much connexion with, and 
yet who was linked on to me. And he felt, " What 
does anything matter, if I can only attain this 
beautiful uplifting feeling," I can't tell you what 
I felt like, but reading it over afterwards, perhaps 
you will understand. Words feel powerless to de- 
scribe it. He won't try, he will just tell you what 
happened after. 

We sat down the seats were arranged some- 
thing like pews in a church and as he looked 
towards the aisle, he saw coming up it about seven 
figures. And he saw, from his former experience, 
thaf they were evidently teachers come down from 
the seventh sphere. He says, they went up to 
the end part, and thev stood on a little raised 
platform ; and then one of them came down each 
of the little aisles, and put out their hands on those 
sitting in the pews. And when one of the (iuides 
put his hand on his head, he felt a mixture of all 
three lights as if he understood everything, and 
as if everything that he had ever felt, of anger or 
worry, all seemed nothing. And he felt as if 
he could rise to any height, and as if he could 
raise everybody round him. As if he had such a 
power in himself. He's stopping to think over 
it again. 

They sat and listened, and the first part of the 
ceremony was given in a lecture, in which one of 
the Guides was telling them how to teach others on 
the lower spheres and earth plane, to come more 
into the spiritual life, while still on those lower 
planes. I think that all that went before was to 
make it easy to understand. And he didn't get 
only the words of the speaker, words didn't seem 
to matter, he got the thought whole sentences, 
instead of one word at a time. And lessons were 
given on concentration, and on the projection of 
uplifting and helpful thoughts to those on the 
earth plane. And as he sat there he sat, they 
were not kneeling he felt as if something was 


going from him, through the other spheres on to 
the earth, and was helping somebody, though he 
didn't know who it was. He can't tell you how 
wonderful it was ; not once it happened, but several 

He's even been on to the sixth sphere too. The 

| sixth sphere was even more beautiful than the fifth, 

but at present he didn't want to stay there. He 

would rather be helping people where he is. 

o. j. L. Does he see the troubles of people on the earth ? 

Yes, he does sometimes. 

I do wish that we could alter people so that 
they were not ashamed to talk about the things 
that matter. He can see people preparing for the 
summer holidays, and yet something may prevent 
them. But the journey that they have got to go 
some time, that they don't prepare for at all. 
M. F. A. L. How can you prepare for it ? 

Yes, by speaking about it openly, and living 
your life so as to make it easier for yourself and 

o. j. L. Is Raymond still there ? Has he got any more 
tests to give, or anything to say, to the boys or 
anybody ? 

Did they understand about the yacht ? 
o. j. L. Yes, they did. 

And about the tent ? 
o. j. L. Yes, they did. 

He's very pleased it bucks him up when he 
gets things through. 
o. j. L. Have you learnt any more about [the Colonel *] ? 

He's not on the spirit side. He feels sure he 
isn't, Somebody told him that there was a body 
found, near the place where he had been, and it 
was dressed in uniform like he had had. But 
something had happened to it here (pointing to her 
o. j. L. Who was it told you ? 

Some one on the other side ; just a messenger, 
not one who knew all about it. No, the messenger 
didn't seem to know J. K. personally, but he had 

1 See record on p. 254. 


gathered the information from the minds of people 
on the earth plane. And Feda isn't quite sure, 
but thinks that there was something missing from 
the body missing from the body that they took 
to be him, which would have identified him. 
o. j. L. Do you mean the face ? 

No, he doesn't mean the face. 

(M. F. A. L., here pointing to her chest, signified 
to me that she knew that it was the identi- 
fication disk that was missing.) 
M. F. A. L. Why was it missing ? 

Because it wasn't he ! In the first place, it 
couldn't be, but if that had only been there, they 
would have known. He can't say where he is at 
the present moment, but he heard a few days ago 
that he is being kept somewhere, and as far as he 
can make out, in Belgium. It's as though he had 
been taken some distance. 

Raymond's not showing this but Feda's shown 
in a sort of flash a letter. First a B, and then an 
R. But the B doesn't mean Belgium ; it's either 
a B or an R, or both. It just flashed up. It may 
mean the place where he is. But Raymond 
doesn't know where he is, only he's quite sure 
that he isn't on the spirit side. But he's afraid 
he's ill. 

o. j. L. Have you anything more to say about E. A. ? 
[See 3 March record, p. 243.] 

No, no more. Raymond came to Feda to 
help the lady who came. Feda started describing 
Raymond. And he said, no, only come to help. 
And then he brought the one what was drownded. 
He came to help also with another, but Feda didn't 
tell that lady, 'cos she didn't know you. He 
doesn't like Feda to tell. Feda couldn't under- 
stand why he wanted to help, because she didn't 
know he knew that gentleman. He helped E. A. 
to build up a picture of his home. Perhaps she 
thinks it was Feda being so clever ! 
o. j. L. Yes, I know, she's been there to see it. [See 
p. 245.] 

Yes, and she found it what she said. He told 


her that she wouldn't be seeing his mother. She 
couldn't see why she shouldn't see his mother ; but 
she didn't. [True.] 

Raymond hasn't got any good tests. He can't 
manufacture them, and they are so hard to re- 
o. j. L. Is he still in his little house ? 

Oh yes, he feels at home there. 

o. j. L. He said it was made of bricks I could make 
nothing of that. 

I knew you couldn't ! It's difficult to explain. 
At-om- ; he say something about at-om-ic principle. 
They seem to be able to draw (?) certain unstable 
atoms from the atmosphere and crystallise them as 
they draw near certain central attraction. That isn't 
quite what Feda thinks of it. Feda has seen like 
something going round a wheel something like 
electricity, some sparks dropping off the edge of the 
wheel, and it goes crick, crick, and becomes like 
hard ; and then they falls like little raindrops into 
the long thing under the wheel Raymond calls it 
the accumulator. I can't call them anything but 
bricks. It's difficult" to know what to call them. 
Wait until you come over, and I'll show you round. 
And you will say, " By Jove, so they are ! " 
Things are quite real here. Mind, I don't say 
things are as heavy" as on the earth, because they're 
not. And if he hit or kicked something it wouldn't 
displace it so much as on the earth, because we're 
lighter. I can't tell you exactly what it is ; I'm 
not very interested in making bricks, but I can 
see plainly how it's apparently clone. 

He says it appears to him too, that the spirit 
spheres are built round the earth plane, and seem 
to revolve with it. Only, naturally, the first sphere 
isn't revolving at such a rate as the third, fourth, 
fifth, sixth, and seventh spheres. Greater cir- 
* cumference makes it seem to revolve more rapidly. 
That seems to have an actual effect on the atmos- 
pheric conditions prevailing in any one of the 
spheres. Do you see what he's getting at ? 
o. j. L. Yes. He only means that the peripheral 


velocity is greater for the bigger spheres, though 
the angular velocity is the same. 

Yes, that's just what he means. And it does 
affect the different conditions, and that's why he 
felt a bit careful when he was on a higher sphere, 
in hanging on to the ground. 

[A good deal of this struck me as nonsense ; as 
if Feda had picked it up from some sitter. 
But I went on recording what was said.] 

Such a lot of people think it's a kind of thought- 
world, where you think all sort of things that it's 
all " think." But when you come over you see that 
there's no thinking about it ; it's there, and it does 
impress you with reality. He does wish you would 
come over. He will be as proud as a cat with some- 
thing tails two tails, he said. Proud as a cat 
with two tails showing you round the places. 
He says, father will have a fine time, poking into 
everything, and turning everything inside out. 

There's plenty flowers growing here, Miss Olive, 
you will be glad to hear. But we don't cut them 
here. They doesn't die and grow again ; they seem 
to renew themselves. Just like people, they are 
there all the time renewing their spirit bodies. The 
higher the sphere he went to, the lighter the bodies 
seemed to be he means the fairer, lighter in 
colour. He's got an idea that the reason why 
people have drawn angels with long fair hair and 
very fair complexion is that they have been in- 
spired by somebody from very high spheres. 
Feda's not fair ; she's not brown, but olive coloured; 
her hair is dark. All people that's any good has 
black hair. 

Do you know that [a friend] won't be satisfied 
unless he comes and has a talk through the table. 
Feda doesn't mind now, 'cos she has had a talk. 
So she will go now and let him talk through the 
table all right. 

Give Feda's love to all of them, specially to 
SLionel Feda likes him 


(Mrs. Leonard now came-to, and after about 
ten minutes she and M. F. A. L. sat at a 
small octagonal table, which, in another 
five minutes, began to tilt.) 

[But the subject now completely changed, and, 
if reported at all, must be reported else- 

I may say that several times, during a Feda sitting, 
some special communicator has asked for a table sitting 
to follow, because he considers it more definite and more 
private. And certainly some of the evidence so got has 
been remarkable ; as indeed it was on this occasion. But 
the record concerns other people, distant friends of my 
wife, some of whom take no interest in the subject 


The episode of " E. A." has developed a good deal since the 
book appeared. " Dr. A." himself has died, and has proved 
unexpectedly competent in giving messages himself giving 
them through several independent mediums, and in a very 
characteristic style. He has clearly shown that he remembers 
some of our talks on the subject, and has described the circum- 
stances under which they occurred. Mrs. D. also has had further 
communications from E. A. ; and the whole episode has now 
grown so much that a detailed account of it must be reported 
either in the Proceedings S.P.R. or elsewhere. 


THERE are a number of incidents which might be 
reported, some of them of characteristic quality, 
and a few of them of the nature of good tests. The 
first of these reported here is decidedly important. 



* Lionel and Norah, going through London on the way 
to Eastbourne, on Friday, 26 May 1916, arranged to have 
a sitting with Mrs. Leonard about noon. They held one 
from 11.55 to 1.30, and a portion of their record is tran- 
scribed below. 

At noon it seems suddenly to have occurred to Alec 
in Birmingham to try for a correspondence test ; so he 
motored up from his office, extracted some sisters from 
the Lady Mayoress's Depot, where they were making 
surgical bandages, and took them to Mariemont for a brief 
table sitting. It lasted about ten minutes, between 
12.10 and 1 2. 20 p.m. And the test which he then and 
there suggested was to ask Raymond to get Feda in London 
to say the word " Honolulu/' This task, I am told, was 
vigorously accepted and acquiesced in. 

A record of this short sitting Alec wrote on a letter- 
card to me, which I received at 7 p.m. the same evening 
at Mariemont : the first I had heard of the experiment. 
The postmark is " i p.m. 26 My 16," and the card runs 
thus : 


" Mariemont, Friday, 26 May, 12.29 P- m - 
Honor, Rosalynde, and Alec sitting in drawing-room 
at table. Knowing Lionel and Norah having Feda sitting 
in London simultaneously. Asked Raymond to give our 
love to Norah and Lionel and to try and get Feda to say 
Honolulu. Norah and Lionel know nothing of this, as it 
was arranged by A. M.-L. after 12 o'clock to-day. 
" (Signed) ALEC M. LODGE 

It is endorsed on the back in pencil, " Posted at B'ham 
General P.O. 12.43 p.m." ; and, in ink, " Received by me 
7 p.m. O. J. L. Opened and read and filed at once." 

The sitters in London knew nothing of the contem- 
poraneous attempt ; and nothing was told them, either then 
or later. Noticing nothing odd in their sitting, which 
they had not considered a particularly good one, they 
made no report till after both had returned from East- 
bourne a week later. 

The notes by that time had been written out, and were 
given me to read to the family. As I read, I came on a 
passage near the end, and, like the few others who were 
in the secret, was pleased to find that the word " Hono- 
lulu " had been successfully got through. The subject 
of music appeared to have been rather forced in by 
Raymond, in order to get Feda to mention an otherwise 
disconnected and meaningless word ; the time when this 
was managed being, I estimate, about i.o or 1.15. But of 
course it was not noted as of any interest at the time. 

Here follow the London Notes. I will quote portions 
of the sitting only, so as not to take up too much space : 

Sitting of Lionel and Norah with Mrs. Leonard ^n London, 
Friday, 26 May 1916, beginning 11.55 a.m. 


After referring to Raymond's married sister and her 
husband, Feda suddenly ejaculated : 
How is Alec f 


L. L. Oh, all right. 

He just wanted to know how he was, and send 
his love to him. He does not always see who is at 
the table ; he feels some more than others. 1 

He says you (to Norah) sat at the table and 

He felt you (Norah) more than any one else at 
the table. 

[This is unlikely. He seems to be thinking that 
it is Honor.] 

Feda feels that if you started off very easily, 
you would be able to see him. Develop a normal 
. . . [clairvoyance probably]. 

Raymond says, go slowly, develop just with 
time, go slowly. Even the table helps a little. 

He can really get through now in his own 
words. When he is there, he now knows what he 
has got through. 

The Indians have got through their hanky- 
panky. [We thought that this meant playing with 
the table in a way beyond his control.] 

He says that Lily is here. (Feda, sotto voce. 
Where is she ?) 

She looks very beautiful, and has lilies ; she will 
help too, and give you power. 

Sit quietly once or twice a week, hold your 
hands, the right over the left, so, for ten minutes, 
then sit quiet only patience. He could wait till 

He says, Wait and see ; he is laughing I 

He has seen Curly (p. 203). 
L. L. Is Curly there now ? 

No, see her when we wants to. That's the 
one that wriggles and goes . . . (here Feda made 
a sound like a dog panting, with her tongue out 
quite a good imitation). 

Raymond has met another boy like Paul, a boy 
called Ralph. He likes him. There is what you 
call a set. People meet there who are interested 

1 It is noteworthy, in connexion with these remarks, that Honor 
and Alec were sitting for a short time at Mariemont just about now.- 
O. J. L. 



in the same things. Ralph is a very decent sort of 
chap. 1 

(To Norah). You could play. 
N. M. L. Play what ? 

Not a game, a music. 
N. M. L. I am afraid I can't, Raymond. 

(Feda, sotto voce. She can't do that.) 

He wanted to know whether you could play 
Hulu Honolulu. 

Well, can't you try to ? He is rolling with 
laughter [meaning that he's pleased about some- 

He knows who he is speaking to, but he can't 
give the name. 

[Here he seems to know that it is Norah and 

not Honor.] 
L. L. Should I tell him ? 


He says something about a yacht ; he means a 
test he sent through about a yacht. Confounded 
Argonauts 1 * 

He is going. Fondest love to them at Marie- 

The sitting continued for a short time longer, ending 
at 1.30 p.m., but the present report may end here. 


In my judgement there were signs that the simultaneous 
holding of two sittings, one with Honor and Alec in 
Edgbaston, and one with Lionel and Norah in London, 
introduced a little harmless confusion ; there was a 
tendency in London to confuse Norah with Honor, and 
Alec was mentioned in London in perhaps an unnecessary 
way. I do not press this, however, but I do press the 
' Honolulu ' episode 

(i) because it establishes a reality about the 
home sittings, 

1 This is the first mention of a Ralph presumably the one whose 
people, not known to us personally, had had excellent table sittings 
with Mrs. Leonard. See Chapter XII. O. J. L. 

8 This is too late to be of any use, but ' Yacht ' appears to be the 
sort of answer they had wanted to ' Argonauts.' O. J. L. 


(ii) because it so entirely eliminates anything of 
the nature of collusion, conscious or un- 
(iii) because the whole circumstances of the test 

make it an exceedingly good one. 
What it does not exclude is telepathy. In fact it may 
be said to suggest telepathy. Yes, it suggests distinctly 
one variety of what, I think, is often called telepathy 
a process sometimes conducted, I suspect, by an un- 
recognised emissary or messenger between agent and 
percipient. It was exactly like an experiment conducted 
tot thought transference at a distance. For at Edg- 
baston was a party of three sitting round a table and 
thinking for a few seconds of the word ' Honolulu ' ; 
while in London was a party of two simultaneously 
sitting with a medium and recording what was said. 
And in their record the word ' Honolulu ' occurs. Tele- 
pathy, however of whatever kind is not a normal 
explanation ; and I venture to say that there is no 
normal explanation, since in my judgement chance is 
put of the question. The subject of music was forced 
in by the communicator, in order to bring in the word ; 
it did not occur naturally; and even if the subject of 
music had arisen, there was no sort of reason for referring 
to that particular song. The chief thing that the episode 
establishes, to my mind, and a thing that was worth 
establishing, is the genuine character of the simple 
domestic sittings without a medium which are occasion- 
ally held by the family circle at Mariemont. For it is 
through these chiefly that Raymond remains as much a 
member of the family group as ever. 


Once at Mariemont, I am told, when M. F. A. L. and 
Honor were touching it, the table moved up to a book 
in which relics and reminiscences of Raymond had been 
pasted, and caused it to be opened. In it, among other 
things, was an enlargement of the snapshot facing 
page 278, showing him in an old ' Nagant ' motor, which 
had been" passed on to him by Alec, stopping out- 
side a certain house in Somersetshire. He was asked 


what house it was, and was expected to spell the name of 
the friend who lived there, but instead he spelt the name of 
the house. The record by M. F. A. L., with some unim- 
portant omissions, is here reproduced merely, however, 
as another example of a private sitting without a medium. 

Impromptu Table Sitting at Mariemont, Tuesday, 
25 April 1916 

(REPORT BY M. F. A. L.) 

I had been thinking of Raymond all day, and wanting 
to thank him for what he did yesterday for [a friend]. 
Honor had agreed that we might do it some time, but 
when I mentioned it about 10.50 p.m., she did not want to 
sit then she thought it too late. We were then in the 

Honor, sitting on the Chesterfield, said, " I wonder if 
any table would be equally good for Raymond ? " placing 
her hands on the middle-sized table of the nest of three. 
It at once began to stir, and she asked me to place mine on 
the other side to steady it. 

I asked if it was Raymond, and it decidedly said YES. 

I then thanked him with much feeling for what he had 
done for [two separate families] lately. I told him how 
much he had comforted them, and how splendidly he was 
doing ; that there were quite a number of people he had 
helped now. We discussed a f ew others that needed help. 

Then I think we asked him if he knew what room we 
were in YES. And after knocking me a good deal, and 
making a noise which seemed to please him against my 
eyeglasses, he manr.ged, by laying the table down, to get 
one foot on to the Chesterfield and raise the table up on it ; 
and there it stayed, and rocked about for a long time 
answering questions I thought it would make a hole in 
the cover. 

I don't quite remember how it got down, but it did, 
and then edged itself up to the other larger table, which 
had been given me by Alec, Noel, and Raymond, after they 
had broken a basket table I used to use there it was 
brought in with a paper, " To Mother from the culprits." 


(This was a year or two ago.) Well, he got it up to this 
table, and fidgeted about with the foot of the smaller table 
on which we had our hands, until he rested it on a ledge 
and tried to raise it up. But the way he did this most 
successfully was when he got the ledge of our small table 
on to a corner of the other and then raised it off the 
ground level. This he did several times. I took one hand 
off, leaving one hand on the top, and Honor's two hands 
lying on the top, no part of them being over the edge, and 
I measured the height the legs were off the ground. The 
first time it was the width of three fingers, and the next 
time four fingers. 

Honor told him this was very clever. 

I then tried to press it down, but could not a curious 
feeling, like pressing on a cushion of air. 

He had by this time turned us right round, so that 
Honor was sitting where I had been before, and I was 
sitting or sometimes standing in her place. Then we were 
turned round again, and he seemed to want to knock the 
other table again ; he went at it in a curious way. I had 
with one hand to remove a glass on it which I thought 
he would upset. He continued to edge against it, until 
he reached a book lying on it. This he knocked with such 
intention, that Honor asked him if he wanted it opened. 


[This was a scrap-book in which I collect any- 
thing about him photographs, old and 
new ; poems made about him, or sent to me 
in consolation ; and it has his name outside, 
drawn on in large letters. M. F. A. L.] 

So I opened it, and showed him the photograph of him- 
self seated in the ' Nagant/ [A motor-car which Alec 
had practically given him not long before the war, and 
with which he was delighted.] 

Honor asked if he could see it, and he said YES, and 
seemed pleased. 

She asked if he could tell her what house it was stand- 
ing in front of, and he spelt out 


[This was pretty good, as the name of the 
Jacques's house is ' St. Germains.'] 


(Honor had forgotten the name till he began, 
' ' and expected him to say Jacques's.) 

We told him he had got it, but that his spelling wasn't 
quite as good as it had been. 

Honor talked to him then about the ' Nagant ' and 
the ' Gabrielle Horn,' all of which seemed to delight him. 

We then showed him some other photographs, and the 
one of his dog, and asked him to spell its name, which he 
did without mistake 


He couldn't see the little photograph of the goats, as it 
was too small. But he saw himself in unifftrfn the one 
taken by Rosalynde and enlarged and he seemed to like 

We talked a lot to him. I asked if he remembered his 
journey with me out to Italy, and the Pullman car, etc. 
At this he knocked very affectionately against me. 

We then thought it was time for us all to go to bed. 
But he said No. So we went on telling him^amily news. 
He listened with interest and appreciative knocks, and 
he then tried his balancing trick again, sometimes with 
sticcess, but often failing to get the leg right. But he did it 
again in the end. We tried to say good night, it being then 
nearly one o'clock, but he didn't seem to want to go. 

We said au revoir, and told him we would see him 
again soon. 


A striking incident is reported in one of my ' Feda ' 
sittings that on 3 Marcfo 1916 shortly after the death 
of our peacock, which went by the comic name of f Mr. 
Jackson, ' his wives being Matilda Jackson and Janet. He 
was a pet oi M. F. A. L.'s, and had recently met with a 
tragic efoci. It was decided to have him stuffed, and one 
of the last things I had seen before leaving Mariemont was 
at wooden pedestal on which it was proposed to put him. 

When I asked Feda if Raymond remembered Mr. 
Jackson, he spoke of him humorously, greatly to Feda's 
puzzlement, who said at la^t that he was mixing him up 
with a bird, about whom I had previously inquired ; 
because he said, ' Fine bird, put him on a pedestal.' 

('I! KhV" AN1> %i VJX."<'t'KI,V 1JKIN<; TH K SIIA(J<iY ONK. 




If this was not telepathy from me, it seems to show a 
curious knowledge of what is going on at his home, for 
the bird had not been dead a week, and if he were alive 
there would be no sense in saying, ' put him on a pedestal.' 
Feda evidently understood it, or tried to understand it, as 
meaning that some man, a Mr. Jackson, was metaphori- 
cally put on a pedestal by the family. 

The fact, however, that Mr. Jackson was at once 
known by Raymond to be a bird is itself evidential, for 
there was nothing in the way I asked the question to make 
Feda or anyone think he was not a man. Indeed, that is 
precisely why she got rather bewildered. See Chapter XXI. 


It is unnecessary to call attention to the importance 
of the photograph incident, which is fully narrated in 
Chapter IV ; but he spoke later of another photograph, 
in which he said was included his friend Case. It is 
mentioned near the end of Chapter IV. That photograph 
we also obtained from Gale & Polden, and it is true that 
Case is in it as well as Raymond, whereas he was not in 
the former group ; but this one is entirely different from 
the other, for they are both in a back row standing up, 
and in a quite open place. If this had been sent to us 
at first, instead of the right one, we should have con- 
sidered the description quite wrong. As it is, the main 
photograph episode constitutes one of the best pieces of 
evidence that has been given. 


The number of more or less convincing proofs which 
we have obtained is by this time very great. Some of 
them appeal more to one person, some to another ; but 
taking them all together every possible ground of suspicion 
or doubt seems to the family to be now removed. And 
it is legitimate to say, further, that partly through Ray- 
mond's activity a certain amount of help of the same kind 
has been afforded to other families. Incidentally it has 


been difficult to avoid brief reference to a few early in- 
stances of this, in that part of the record now published. 
For the most part, however, these and a great number of 
other things are omitted ; and I ought perhaps to apologise 
for the quantity which I have thought proper to include. 
Some home critics think that it would have been wiser to 
omit a great deal more, so as to lighten the book. But 
one can only act in accordance with one's own judgement ; 
and the book, if it is to achieve what it aims at, cannot 
be a light one. So, instead of ending it here, I propose to 
add a quantity of more didactic material expressing my 
own views on the subject of Life and Death the result of 
many years of thought and many kinds of experience. 

Some people may prefer the details in Part II ; but 
others who have not the patience to read Part II may 
tolerate the more general considerations adduced in 
Part III the " Life and Death " portion which can 
be read without any reference to Raymond or to Parts I 
and II. 


" Eternal form shall still divide 

The eternal soul from all beside; 
And I shall know him when we meet." 

TENNYSON, In Memorial* 


IN this " Life and Death " portion a definite side is 
unobtrusively taken in connexion with two outstand- 
ing controversies ; and though the treatment is pur- 
posely simple and uncontroversial, the author is under no 
delusion that every philosophical reader will agree with 
him. Explicit argumentation on either side is no novelty, 
but this is not the place for argument ; moreover, the 
opposing views have already been presented with ample 
clearness by skilled disputants. 

Briefly then it may be said that Interactionism rather 
than Epiphenomenalism or Parallelism is the side taken 
in one controversy. And the non-material nature of life 
the real existence of some kind of vital essence or 
vivifying principle as a controlling and guiding entity 
is postulated in another : though the author never calls 
it a force or an energy. 

Philosophical literature teems with these topics, but 
it may suffice here to call the attention of the general 
reader to two or three easily readable summaries one an 
explanatory article by Mr. Gerald Balfour, in The Hibbert 
Journal for April 1910, on the Epiphenomenon contro- 
versy, and generally on the alternative explanations of 
the connexion between Mind and Body, in the light thrown 
on the subject by Telepathy and Psychical Research ; 
while on the vitality controversy a small book embodying 
a short course of lectures by the physiologist and philo- 
sopher Dr. J. S. Haldane under the title Mechanism, 
Life, and Personality, or a larger book by Professor 
M'Dougal called Body and Mind, may be recommended. 
On this subject also the writings of Professor J. Arthur 
Thomson may be specially mentioned. 

The opinions of the present author on these topics, 
whatever they may be worth, are held without apology 

or hesitation, because to him they appear the inevitable 



consequence of facts of nature as now known or knowable. 
Some of these facts are not generally accepted by scientific 
men ; and if the facts themselves are not admitted, 
naturally any conclusion based upon them will appear 
ill-founded, and the further developed structure illusory. 
He anticipates that this will be said by critics. 

In so far as the author's manner of statement is in 
terms of frank Dualism, he regards that as inevitable for 
scientific purposes. He does not suppose that any form 
of Dualism can be the last word about the Universe ; but, 
for practical purposes, mind and matter, or soul and 
body, must be thought of separately, and it must be the 
work of higher Philosophy to detect ultimate unity a 
unity which he feels certain cannot possibly be material- 
istic in any sense intelligible to those who are at present 
studying matter and energy. 

It may be doubted whether Materialism as a philo- 
sophy exists any longer, in the sense of being sustained by 
serious philosophers ; but a few physiological writers, of 
skill and industry, continue to advocate what they are 
pleased to call Scientific Materialism. Properly regarded 
this is a Policy, not a Philosophy, as I will explain ; but 
they make the mistake of regarding it as a Philosophy 
comprehensive enough to give them the right of negation 
as well as of affirmation. They do this in the interest of 
what they feel instinctively to be the ultimate achieve- 
ment, a Monism in which mind and matter can be recognised 
as aspects of some one fundamental Reality. We can 
sympathise with the aim, and still feel how far from ac- 
complishment we are. Nothing is gained by undue haste, 
and by unfounded negation much may be lost. We must 
not deny any part of the Universe for the sake of a pre- 
mature unification. Simplification by exclusion or denial 
is a poverty-stricken device. 

The strength of such workers is that they base them- 
selves on the experience and discoveries of the past, and, 
by artificial but convenient limitation of outlook, achieve 
practical results. But they are not satisfied with results 
actually achieved they forget their limitations and, by 
a gigantic system of extrapolation from what has been 
done, try to infer what is going to be done ; their device 
being to anticipate and speak of what they hope for, as 


if it were already an accomplished fact. Some of the 
assumptions or blind guesses made by men of this school 
are well illustrated by an exposition in The Hibbert 
Journal for July 1916, where an able writer states the 
main propositions of Scientific Materialism thus : 

1. The law of universal causation ; 

2. The principle of mechanism i.e. the denial of 

purpose in the universe and all notions of 
absolute finalism or teleology ; 

3. The denial that there exists any form of ' spirit- 

ual ' or ' mental ' entity that cannot be 
expressed in terms of matter and motion. 

These appear to be its three propositions, and they are 
formulated by the exponent " as being of the first im- 
portance in the representation of materialistic thought." 

Now proposition i is common property ; materialistic 
thought has no sort of exclusive right over it ; and to 
claim propositions 2 and 3 as corollaries from it is farcical. 
Taking them as independent postulates which they are 
all that need be said about proposition 2 is that a broad 
denial always needs more knowledge than a specific 
assertion, and it is astonishing that any sane person can 
imagine himself to know enough about the Universe as a 
whole to be able complacently to deny the existence of 
any " purpose " in it. All he can really mean is that 
scientific explanations must be framed so as to exhibit 
the immediate means whereby results in nature are ac- 
complished ; for whether, or in what sense, they are first 
or simultaneously conceived in a Mind as human under- 
takings are is a matter beyond our scientific ken. Thus 
Darwinian and Mendelian attempts to explain how species 
arise, and how inheritance occurs, are entirely legitimate 
and scientific. For our experience is that every event 
has a proximate cause which we can investigate. Of 
ultimate causes we as scientific men are ignorant : they 
belong to a different region of inquiry. If the word 
" denial," therefore, in the above proposition is replaced 
by the phrase " exclusion from practical scientific atten- 
tion," I for one have no quarrel with clause 2 ; for it 
then becomes a mere self-denying ordinance, a convenient 
limitation of scope. It represents Policy, not Philosophy. 


But attention may be more usefully directed to the 
extravagantly gratuitous guess involved in hypothesis 3. 
As a minor point, it is not even carefully worded ; for 
entities which cannot be expressed in terms of matter and 
motion are common enough without going outside the 
domain of physics. Light, for instance, and Electricity, 
have not yet proved amenable, and do not appear likely 
to be amenable, to purely dynamical theory. 

Certain phenomena have been reduced to matter and 
motion, heat, for instance, and sound, the phenomena 
of gases and liquids, and all the complexities of astronomy. 
And in a famous passage Newton expressed an enthusi- 
astic hope that all the phenomena of physics might some 
day be similarly reduced to the attractive simplicity of 
the three laws of motion inertia, acceleration, and 
stress. And ever since Newton it has been the aim of 
physics tcr explain everything in its domain in terms of 
pure dynamics. The attempt has been only partially 
successful : the Ether is recalcitrant. But its recalcit- 
rance is not like mere surly obstruction, it is of a helpful 
and illuminating character, and I shall not be misleading 
anyone if I cheerfully admit that in some modified and 
expanded form dynamical theory in mathematical physics 
has proved itself to be supreme. 

But does dominance of that kind give to that splendid 
science the glory of Britain and of Cambridge the right 
to make a gigantic extrapolation and sprawl over all the 
rest of the Universe, throwing out tentacles even into 
regions which it has definitely abstracted from its atten- 
tion or excluded from its ken ? There is not a physicist 
who thinks so. The only people who try to think so 
are a few enthusiasts of a more speculative habit of 
thought, who are annoyed with the physicists, from Lord 
Kelvin downwards, for not agreeing with them. And 
being enable to gather from competent authority any 
specific instance in which dynamics has explained a single 
fact in the region of either life or mind or consciousness 
or emotion or purpose or will, because it is known per- 
fectly well that dynamical jurisdiction does not extend 
into those regions, these speculators set up as authorities 
on their own account, arid, on the strength of their own 
expectation, propound the broad and sweeping dogma 


that nothing in the Universe exists which is not fully 
expressible in terms of matter and motion. And then, 
having accustomed themselves to the sound of some such 
collocation of words, they call upon humanity to shut its 
eyes to any facts of common experience which render such 
an assertion ridiculous. 

The energy and enthusiasm of these writers, and the 
good work they may be doing in their own science, render 
them more or less immune from attack ; but every now 
and then it is necessary to say clearly that such extrava- 
gant generalisations profane the modesty of science : 
whose heritage it is to recognise the limitations of partial 
knowledge, and to be always ready to gain fresh experi- 
ence and learn about the unknown. The new and un- 
familiar is the vantage ground, not of scientific dogmatism, 
but of scientific inquiry. 

The expository or theoretical part of this book may at 
first appear too abstract for the general reader who has 
had no experience of the kind of facts already described. 
Such reader may fail to see a connexion between this 
more didactic portion and the illustrations or examples 
which have preceded it ; but if he will give sufficient 
time and thought to the subject, the connexion will 
dawn upon him with considerable vividness. 

It has always seemed to the author legitimate, and in 
every way desirable, for an experimenter to interpret and 
make himself responsible for an explanation or theory of 
his observations, so far as he can. To record bare facts 
and expect a reader of the record to arrive at the same 
conclusion as that reached by one who has been immersed 
in them for a long time, is to expect too strenuous an 
effort, and is not a fair procedure. Such a practice, 
though not unusual and sometimes even commended in 
physical science, is not followed by the most famous 
workers ; and it has been known to retard progress for a 
considerable time by loading the student with an accumu- 
lation of undigested facts. The hypothesis on which an 
observer has been working, or which he has arrived at in 
the course of his investigations, may or may not be of 
permanent value, but if his experience has led him to 
regard it as the best solution so far attainable, and if he is 


known not to be a specially obstinate or self-opinionated 
person, his views for what they are worth should be set 
forth for the guidance of future inquirers. If he mauls 
the facts in his direction, he will be detected ; but such 
an accusation is a serious one, and should not be made 
lightly or without opportunity for reply. 

The string on which beads are strung may not be 
extremely durable, and in time it may give place to some- 
thing stronger, but it is better than a random heap of 
beads not threaded on anything at all. 

The main thread linking all the facts together in the 
present case is the hypothesis not only of continued 
or personal psychical existence in the abstract, but a 
definite inter-locking or inter-communication between 
two grades of existence, the two in which we are most 
immediately interested and about which we can ascertain 
most, that of the present and that of the immediate 
future for each individual ; together with the added 
probabilities that the actual grades of existence are far 
more than two, and that the forthcoming transition, in 
which we cannot but be interested even if we do not 
believe in it, is only one of many of which we shall, in 
some barely imaginable way, in due time become aware. 

The hypothesis of continued existence in another set 
of conditions, and of possible communication across a 
boundary, is not a gratuitous one made for the sake of 
comfort and consolation, or because of a dislike to the idea 
of extinction ; it is a hypothesis which has been gradually 
forced upon the author as upon many other persons 
by the stringent coercion of definite experience. The 
foundation of the atomic theory in Chemistry is to him no 
stronger. The evidence is cumulative, and has broken 
the back of all legitimate and reasonable scepticism. 

And if by selecting the atomic theory as an example 
he has chosen one upon which supplementary and most 
interesting facts have been grafted in the progress of dis- 
covery facts not really contradicting the old knowledge, 
even when superficially appealing to do so, but adding to 
it and illuminating it further, while making changes 
perhaps in its manner of formulation he has chosen such 
an example of set purpose, as not unlikely to be imitated 
in the present case also. * 


" Eternal process moving on." TENNYSON 

THE shorter the word the more inevitable it is that 
it will be used in many significations ; as can be 
proved by looking out almost any monosyllable in 
a large dictionary. The tendency of a simple word to 
have many glancing meanings like shot silk, as Tennyson 
put it is a character of high literary value ; though it 
may be occasionally inconvenient for scientific purposes. 
It is unlikely that we can escape an ambiguity due to 
this tendency, but I wish to use the term ' life ' to signify 
the vivifying principle which animates matter. 

That the behaviour of animated matter differs from 
what is often called dead matter is familiar, and is illus- 
trated by the description sometimes given of an uncanny 
piece of mechanism that " it behaves as if it were alive/' 
In the case of a jumping bean, for instance, its spasmodic 
and capricious behaviour can be explained with apparent 
simplicity, though with a suspicious trend towards super- 
stition, by the information that a live and active maggot 
inhabits a cavity inside. It is thereby removed from the 
bare category of physics only, though still perfectly obedi- 
ent to physical laws : it jumps in accordance with 
mechanics, but neither the times nor the direction of 
its jumps can be predicted. 1 

We must admit that the term ' dead matter ' is often 
misapplied. It is used sometimes to denote merely the 
constituents of the general inorganic world. But it is 
inconvenient to speak of utterly inanimate things, like 
stones, as ' dead/ when no idea of life was ever associated 
with them, and when ' inorganic ' is all that is meant. 
The term ' dead ' applied to a piece of matter signifies 

1 See Explanatory Note A at end of chapter, 



the absence of a vivifying principle, no doubt, but it is 
most properly applied to a collocation of organic matter 
which has been animated. 

Again, when animation has ceased, the thing we 
properly call dead is not the complete organism, but that 
material portion which is left behind ; we do not or should 
not intend to make any assertion concerning the vivifying 
principle which has left it, beyond the bare fact of its 
departure. We know too little about that principle to be 
able to make safe general assertions. The life that is 
transmitted by an acorn or other seed fruit is always 
beyond our ken. We can but study its effects, and note 
its presence or its absence by results. 

Life must be considered sui generis ; it is not a form of 
energy, nor can it be expressed in terms of something else. 
Electricity is in the same predicament ; it too cannot be 
explained in terms of something else. This is true of all 
fundamental forms of being. Magnetism may be called a 
concomitant of moving electricity ; ordinary matter can 
perhaps be resolved into electric charges : but an electric 
charge can certainly not be expressed in terms of either 
matter or energy. No more can life. To show that the 
living principle in a seed is not one of the forms of energy, 
it is sufficient to remember that that seed can give rise to 
innumerable descendants, through countless generations, 
without limit. There is nothing like a constant quantity 
of something to be shared, as there is in all examples of 
energy : there is no conservation about it : the seed em- 
bodies a stimulating and organising principle which 
appears to well from a limitless source. 

But although life is not energy, any more than it is 
matter, yet it directs energy and thereby controls arrange- 
ments of matter. Through the agency of life specific 
structures are composed which would not otherwise exist, 
from a sea-shell to a cathedral, from a blade of grass to 
an oak ; and specific distributions of energy are caused, 
from the luminosity of a firefly to an electric arc, from the 
song of a cricket to an oratorio. 

Life makes use of any automatic activities, or trans- 
ferences and declensions of energy, which are either 
potentially or actually occurring. In especial it makes 
use of the torrent of ether tremors which reach the earth 


from the sun. Every plant is doing it constantly. Ad- 
mittedly life exerts no force, it does no work, but it 
makes effective the energy available for an organism 
which it controls and vivifies ; it determines in what direc- 
tion and when work shall be done. It is plain matter of 
fact that it does this, whether we understand the method 
or not, and thus indirectly life interacts with and in- 
fluences the material world. The energy of coal is in- 
directly wholly solar, but without human interference it 
might remain buried in the earth, and certainly would 
never propel a ship across the Atlantic. One way of 

futting the matter is to say that life times, and directs. 
[ it runs a railway train, it runs the train not like a loco- 
motive but like a General Manager. It enters into battle 
with a walking-stick, but guns are fired to its orders. It 
may be said to aim and fire : one of its functions is to dis- 
criminate between the wholesome and the deleterious, 
between friend and foe. That is a function outside the 
scope of physics. 

Energy controlled by life is not random energy : the 
kind of self -composition or personal structure built by it 
depends on the kind of life-unit which is operating, not on 
the pabulum which is supplied. The same food will serve to 
build a pig, a chicken, or a man. Food which is assimilable 
at all takes a shape determined by the nature of the opera- 
tive organism, and indeed by the portion of the organism 
actually reached by it. Unconscious constructive ability 
is as active in each cell of the body as in a honeycomb ; 
only ttn a, tbeehive we can see the operators at work. 
The construction of an eye or an ear is still more astonish- 
ing. In the inorganic world such structures would be 
meaningless, for there would be nothing to respond to 
their stimulus ; they can only serve elementary mind and 
consciousness. The brain and nerve system is an instru- 
ment of transmutation or translation from the physical to 
the mental, and vice versa. 


Steps in the progress of evolution great stages which 
have been likened by Sir James Crichton Browne to 


exceptional Mendelian Mutations may be rather imagin- 
atively rehearsed somewhat thus : 

Starting with 

The uniform Ether of Space, we can first suppose 
The specialisation or organisation of specks of 

ether into Electrons ; followed by 
Associated systems of electrons, constituting 

atoms of Matter ; and so 
The whole inorganic Universe. 

Then, as a new and astonishing departure, comes 

The cell, or protoplasmic complex which Life can 
construct and utilise for manifestation and 
development. 1 

And after that 

A brain cell, which can become the physical organ 
for the rudiments of Mind. Followed by 

Further mental development until Consciousness 
becomes possible. With subsequent 

Sublimation of consciousness into Ethics, Philo- 
sophy, and Religion. 

We need not insist on these or any other stages for our 
present purpose ; yet something of the kind would seem 
to have occurred, in the mysterious course of time. 

1 See Explanatory Note B. 



The biological explanation of a jumping bean is sometimes 
felt to be puzzling, inasmuch as the creature is wholly enclosed ; 
and a man in a boat knows that he cannot propel it by movement 
inside, without touching the water or something external. But 
the reaction of a table can be made use of through the envelope, 
and a live thing can momentarily vary its own weight-pressure 
and even reverse its sign. This fact has a bearing on some 
psycho-physical experiments, and hence is worthy of a moment's 

To weigh an animal that jumps and will not keep still is 
always troublesome. It cannot alter its average weight, truly, 
but it can redistribute it in time ; at moments its apparent 
weight may be excessive, and at other moments zero or even 
negative, as during the middle of an energetic leap. Parentheti- 
cally we may here interpolate a remark and say that what is called 
interference of light (two lights producing darkness, in popular 
language) is a redistribution of luminous energy in space. No 
light, nor any kind of wave motion, is destroyed by interference 
when two sets of waves overlap, but the energy rises to a maximum 
in some places, and in other places sinks to zero. No wave energy 
is consumed by interference only rearranged. This fact is often 
misstated. And probably the other statement, about the vary- 
ing apparent weight i.e. pressure on the ground of a live 
animal, may be misstated too : though there is no question of 
energy about that, but only of force. The force or true weight, 
in the sense of the earth's attraction, is there ail the time, and is 
constant ; but the pressure on the ground, or the force needed 
to counteract the weight, is not constant. After momentary 
violence, as in throwing, no support need be supplied for several 
seconds ; and, like the maggot inside a hollow bean, a live thing 
turning itself into a projectile may even carry something else 
up too. It is instructive also to consider a flying bird, and a 
dirigible balloon, and to ask where the still existing weight of 
these things can be found. 


The properties which differentiate living matter from any 
kind of inorganic imitation may be instinctively felt, but can 
hardly be formulated without expert knowledge. The differences 
between a growing organism and a growing crystal are many and 
various, but it must suffice here to specify the simplest and most 
familiar sort of difference ; and as it is convenient to take a 
possibly controversial statement of this kind from the writings of a 
physiologist, I quote here a passage from an article by Professor 


Eraser Harris, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, in the current number of 
the quarterly magazine called Science Progress edited by Sir 
Ronald Ross : 

" Living animal bioplasm has the power of growing, that is 
of assimilating matter in most cases chemically quite unlike that 
of its own constitution. Now this is a remarkable power, not in 
the least degree shared by non-living matter. Its very familiarity 
has blinded us to its uniqueness as a chemical phenomenon. The 
mere fact that a man eating beef, bird, fish, lobster, sugar, fat, and 
innumerable other things can transform these into human bio- 
plasm, something chemically very different even from that of 
them which most resembles human tissue, is one of the most extra- 
ordinary facts in animal physiology. A crystal growing in a 
solution is not only not analogous to this process, it is in the 
sharpest possible contrast with it. The crystal grows only in the 
sense that it increases in bulk by accretions to its exterior, and 
only does that by being immersed in a solution of the same material 
as its own substance. It takes up to itself only material which is 
already similar to itself ; this is not assimilation, it is merely 

n The term f growth/ strictly speaking, can be applied only 
to metabolism in the immature or convalescent organism. The 
healthy adult is not f growing ' in this sense ; when of constant 
weight he is adding neither to his stature nor his girth, and yet 
he is assimilating as truly as ever he did. Put more technically : 
in the adult of stationary weight, anabolism is quantitatively 
equal to katabplism, whereas in the truly growing organism ana- 
bolism is prevailing over katabolism ; and reversely in the wasting 
of an organism or in senile decay, katabolism is prevailing over 
anabolism. The crystal in its solution offers no analogies with the 
adult or the senile states but these are of the very essence of the 
life of an organism. . . . 

"The fact, of course familiar to every beginner in biology, is 
that the crystal is only incorporating and not excreting anything, 
whereas the living matter is always excreting as well as assimil- 
ating. This one-sided metabolism if it can be dignified with 
that term is indeed characteristic of the crystal, but it is at 
no time characteristic 01 the living organism. The organism, 
whether truly growing or only in metabolic equilibrium, is con- 
stantly taking up material to replace effete material, is replenishing 
because it has previously displenished itself or cast on material. 
The resemblance between a so-called ! growing ' crystal and a 
growing organism is verily of the most superficial kind." 

And Professor Fraser Harris concludes his article thus : 

! - Between the living and the non-living there is a great gulf 
fixed, and no efforts of ours, however heroic, have as yet bridged 
it over." 



We know that as vitality diminishes the bodily deterioration 
called old age sets in, and tnat a certain amount of deterioration 
results in death ; but it turns out, on systematic inquiry, that old 
age and death are not essential to living organisms. They repre- 
sent the deterioration and wearing out of working parts, so that 
the vivifying principle is hampered in its manifestation and cannot 
achieve results which with a younger and healthier machine were 
possible ; but the parts which wear out are not the essential 
bearers of the vivifying principle ; they are accreted or supple- 
mentary portions appropriate to developed individual earth life, 
and it does not appear improbable that the progress of discovery 
may at least postpone the deterioration that we call old age, for a 
much longer time than at present. Emphasis on this distinction 
between germ cell and body cell, usually associated with Weis- 
mann, seems to have been formulated before him by Herdman of 

Biologists teach us that the phenomenon of old age is not 
evident in the case of the unicellular organisms which reproduce 
by fission. The cell can be killed, but it need neither grow old nor 
die. Death appears to be a prerogative of the higher organisms. 
But even among these Professor Weismann adopts and defends 
the view that " death is not a primary necessity, but that it has 
been secondarily acquired by adaptation," The cell is not in- 
herently limited in its number of cell-generations. The low uni- 
cellular organism is potentially immortal ; the higher multi- 
cellular form, with well-differentiated organs, contains the germ of 
death within its soma. Death seems to supervene by reason of its 
utility to the species : continued life of an individual after a 
certain stage being comparatively useless. From the point of 
view of the race the soma or main body is " a secondary appendage 
of the real bearer of life the reproductive cells.' 1 The somatic 
cells probably lost their immortal qualities on this immortality 
becoming useless to the species. Their mortality may have been 
a mere consequence of their differentiation. " Natural death was 
not introduced from absolute intrinsic necessity, inherent in the 
nature of living matter," says Weismann, fl but on grounds of 
utility ; that is from necessities which sprang up, not from the 
general conditions of life, but from those special conditions which 
dominate the life of multicellular organisms." 

It is not the germ cell itself, but the bodily accretion or append- 
age, which is abandoned by life, and which accordingly dies and 


" And Life, still wreathing flowers for Death to wear." ROSSETII 

WHATEVER Life may really be, it is to us an 
abstraction : for the word is a generalised term 
to signify that which is common to all animals 
and plants, and which is not directly operative in the 
inorganic world. To understand life we must study 
living things, to see what is common to them all. An 
organism is alive when it moulds matter to a character- 
istic form, and utilises energy for its own purposes the 
purposes especially of growth and reproduction. A living 
organism, so far as it is alive, preserves its complicated 
structure from deterioration and decay. 1 

Death is the cessation of that controlling influence 
over matter and energy, so that thereafter the uncontrolled 
activity of physical and chemical forces supervene. Death 
is not the absence of life merely, the term signifies its 
departure or separation, the severance of the abstract 
principle from the concrete residue. The term only truly 
applies to that which has been living. 

Death therefore may be called a dissociation, a dis- 
solution, a separation of a controlling entity from a 
physico-chemical organism ; it may be spoken of in 
general and vague terms as a separation of soul and body, 
if the term ' soul ' is reduced to its lowest denomination. 

Death is not extinction. Neither the soul nor the 
body is extinguished or put out of existence. The body 
weighs just as much as before, the only properties it loses 
at the moment of death are potential properties. So also 
all we can assert concerning the vital principle is that it 
no longer animates that material organism : we cannot 

1 See Note C at end of preceding chapter. 



sately make further assertion regarding it, or maintain 
its activity or its inactivity without further information. 

When we say that a body is dead we may be speaking 
accurately. When we say that a person is dead, we are 
using an ambiguous term ; we may be referring to his 
discarded body, in which case we may be speaking truly 
and with precision. We may be referring to his per- 
sonality, his character, to what is really himself ; in 
which case though we must admit that we are speaking 
popularly, the term is not quite simply applicable. He 
has gone, he has passed on, he has " passed through the 
body and gone/ 1 as Browning says in AU Vogler, but 
he is I venture to say certainly not dead in the same 
sense as the body is dead. It is his absence which allows 
the body to decay, he himself need be subject to no decay 
nor any destructive influence. Rather he is emancipated ; 
he is freed from the burden of the flesh, though with it he 
has also lost those material and terrestrial potentialities 
which the bodily mechanism conferred upon him ; and 
if he can exert himself on the earth any more, it can only 
be with some difficulty and as it were by permission and 
co-operation of those still here. It appears as if some- 
times and occasionally he can still stimulate into activity 
suitable energetic mechanism, but his accustomed 
machinery for manifestation has been lost : or rather it is 
still there for a time, but it is out of action, it is dead. 

Nevertheless inasmuch as those who have lost their 
material body have passed through the process of dis- 
solution or dissociative severance which we cadi death, it 
is often customary to speak of them as dead. They are 
no longer living, if by living we mean associated with a 
material body of the old kind ; and in that sense we need 
not hesitate to speak of them collectively as ' the 

We need not be afraid of the word, nor need we resent 
its use or hesitate to employ it, when once we and our 
hearers understand the sense in which it may rightly be 
employed. If ideas associated with the term had always 
been sensible and wholesome, people need have had no 
compunction at all about using it. But by the populace, 
and by Ecclesiastics also, the term has been so misused, 
and the ideas of people have been so confused by insistent 


concentration on merely physical facts, and by the 
necessary but over-emphasised attention to the body left 
behind, that it was natural for a time to employ other 
words, until the latent ambiguity had ceased to be 
troublesome. And occasionally, even now, it is well to 
be emphatic in this direction, in order to indicate our 
disagreement with the policy of harping on worms and 
graves and epitaphs, or on the accompanying idea of a 
General Resurrection, with reanimation of buried bodies. 
Hence in strenuous contradiction to all this superstition 
comes the use of such phrases as ' transition ' or ' passing/ 
and the occasional not strictly justifiable assertion that 
" there is no death." 

For as a matter of familiar fact death there certainly 
is ; and to deny a fact is no assistance. No one really 
means to deny a fact ; those who make the statement 
only want to divert thoughts from a side already too 
much emphasised, and to concentrate attention on 
another side. What they mean is, there is no extinction. 
They definitely mean to maintain that the process called 
death is a mere severance of soul and body, and that the 
soul is freed rather than injured thereby. The body alone 
dies and decays ; but there is no extinction even for it 
only a change. For the other part there can hardly be 
even a change except a change of surroundings. It is 
unlikely that character and personality are liable to sudden 
revolutions or mutations. Potentially they may be 
different, because of different opportunities, but actually 
at the moment they are the same. Likening existence to 
a curve, the curvature has changed, but there is no other 

Death is not a word to fear, any more than birth is. 
We change our state at birth, and come into the world of 
air and sense and myriad existence ; we change our state 
at death and enter a region of what ? Of Ether, I 
think, and still more myriad existence ; a region in which 
communion is more akin to what we here call telepathy, 
and where intercourse is not conducted by the accustomed 
indirect physical processes ; but a region in which beauty 
and knowledge are as vivid as they are here : a region 
in which progress is possible, and in which " admiration, 
hope, and love " are even more real and dominant. It is 


in this sense that we can truly say, " The dead are not dead, 
but alive.' 1 oi&l rtdvSiffi 6<x,v6vrt{. 



A lady was brought by a friend to call on us at Mariemont 
during a brief visit to Edgbaston, and I happened to have a talk 
with her in the garden. I found that she had been one of the 
victims of the Lusitania, and as she seemed very cheerful and 
placid about it, I questioned her as to her feelings on the occasion. 
I found her a charming person, and she entered into the matter 
with surprising fullness, considering that she was a complete 
stranger. Her chief anxiety seems to have been for her husband, 
whom she had left either in America or the West Indies, and for 
her friends generally ; but on her own behalf she seems to have 
felt extremely little anxiety or discomfort of any kind. She told 
me she had given up hope of being saved, and was only worried 
about friends mourning on her behalf and thinking that she must 
have suffered a good deal, whereas, in point of fact, she was not 
really suffering at all. She was young and healthy, and appar- 
ently felt no evil results from the three hours' immersion. She 
was sucked down by the ship, and when she came to the surface 
again, her first feeling was one of blank surprise at the disappear- 
ance of what had brought her across the Atlantic. The ship was 
"- not there." 

I thought her account so interesting, that after a few months 
I got her address from the friend with whom she had been staying, 
and wrote asking if she would write it down for me. In due 
course she did so, writing from abroad, and permits me to make 
use of the statement, provided I suppress her name ; which 
accordingly I do, quoting the document otherwise in full. 

The Document referred to 

li Your letter came to me as a great pleasure and surprise. 
I have always remembered the sympathy with which you listened 
to me, that morning at Edgbaston, and sometimes wondered at the 
amount I said, as it is not easy to give expression to feelings and 
speculations which are only roused at critical moments in one's 

il What you ask me to do is not easy, as I am only one of those 
who are puzzling and groping in the dark while you have iound 
so much light for yourself and have imparted it to others. 

1! I would like, however, most sincerely to try to recall my 
sensations with regard to that experience, if they would be of any 
value to you. 

" It would be absurd to say now. that from the beginning of the 


voyage I knew what would happen ; it was not a very actual 
knowledge, but I was conscious of a distinct forewarning, and the 
very calmness and peace of the voyage seemed, in a way, a state ot 
waiting for some great event. Therefore when the ship was rent 
by the explosion (it was as sudden as the firing of a pistol) I felt no 
particular shock, because of that curious inner expectancy. The 
only acute feeling I remember at the moment was one of anger 
that such a crime could have been committed ; the fighting in- 
stinct predominated in the face of an unseen but near enemy. I 
sometimes think it was partly that same instinct the desire to 
die game that accounted for the rather grim calmness of some ot 
the passengers. After all it was no ordinary shipwreck, but a 
Chance of War. I put down my book and went round to the 
other side of the ship where a great many passengers were gather- 
ing round the boats ; it was difficult to stand, as the Lusitania was 
listing heavily. There seemed to be no panic whatever ; I went 
into my cabin, a steward very kindly helped me with a life-jacket, 
and advised me to throw away my fur coat. I felt no hurry or 
anxiety, and returned on deck, where I stood with some difficulty 
discussing our chances with an elderly man I just knew by sight. 

" It was then I think we realised what a strong instinct there 
was in some of us not to struggle madly for life but to wait for 
something to come to us, whether it be life or death ; and not to 
lose our personality and become like one of the struggling shouting 
creatures who were by then swarming up from the lower decks 
and made one's heart ache. I never felt for a moment that my 
time to cross over had come not until I found myself in the water 
floating farther and farther away from the scene of wreckage 
and misery in a sea as calm and vast as the sky overhead. Be- 
hind me, the cries of those who were sinking grew fainter, the 
splash of oars and the calls of those who were doing rescue work 
in the lifeboats ; there seemed to be no possibility of rescue for 
me ; so I reasoned with myself and said, ' The time has come you 
must believe it the time to cross over ' but inwardly and per- 
sistently something continued to say, ' No not now.' 

" The gulls were flying overhead and I remember noticing the 
beauty of the blue shadows which the sea throws up to their white 
feathers : they were very happy and alive and made me feel 
rather lonely ; my thoughts went to my people looking forward 
to seeing me, and at that moment having tea in the garden at 

; the idea of their grief was unbearable I had to cry a 

little. Names of books went through my brain ; one specially, 
called ' Where no Fear is/ seemed to express my feeling at the 
time 1 Loneliness, yes, and sorrow on account of the grief of 
others but no Fear. It seemed very normal, very right, a 
natural development of some kind about to take place. How can 
it be otherwise, when it is natural ? I rather wished I knew some 
one on the other side, and wondered if there are friendly strangers 
there who come to the rescue. I was very near the border-line 
when a wandering lifeboat quietly came up behind me and two 
men bent down and lifted me in. It was extraordinary how 


quickly life came rushing back ; every one in the boat seemed very 
self-possessed although there was one man dead and another 
losing his reason. One woman expressed a hope for a * cup of 
tea ' shortly a hope which was soon to be realised for all of us in 
a Mine Sweeper from Queenstown. I have forgotten her name 
but shall always remember the kindness of her crew specially the 
Chief Officer, who saved me much danger by giving me dry clothes 
and hot towels. 

" All this can be of very little interest to you I have no skill 
in putting things on paper ; but, you know. I am glad to have 
been near the border ; to have had the feeling of how very near it 
is always only there are so many li ttle things always going on to 
absorb one here. 

' Others on that day were passing through a Gate which was not 
open for me but I do not expect they were afraid when the time 
came they too probably felt that whatever they were to find 
would be beautiful only a fulfilment of some kind. ... I have 
reason to think that the passing from here is very painless at 
least when there is no illness. We seemed to be passing through a 
stage on the road of Life." 



" All, that doth live, lives always ! " EDWIN ARNOLD 

CONSIDER now the happenings to the discarded 
body. In the first place, I repeat, it is undesirable 
to concentrate attention on a grave. The dis- 
carded body must be duly attended to when done with ; 
the safety of the living is a paramount consideration ; 
the living must retain control over what is dead. Uncon- 
trolled natural forces are often dangerous : the only thing 
harmful about a flood or a fire is the absence of control. 
Either the operations must be supervised and intelligently 
directed, or they must be subjected to such disabilities 
that they can do no harm. But to associate continued 
personality with a dead body, such as is suggested by 
phrases like " lay him in the earth/' or " here lies such ail 
one," or to anticipate any kind of physical resuscitation, is 
unscientific and painful. Unfortunately the orthodox 
religious world at some epochs has attached superstitious 
importance, not to the decent disposal, but to the imagined 
future of the body. Painful and troublesome to humanity 
those rites have been. The tombs of Egypt are witness to 
the harassing need felt by the living to provide their loved 
ones with symbols or tokens of all that they might require 
in a future state of existence, as if material things were 
needed by them any more, or as if we could provide them 
if the were. 1 The simple truth is always so much saner 

1 It is rash to condemn a human custom which has prevailed for 
centuries or millenniums, and it is wrong to treat it de Hani en bas. 
I would not be understood as doing so, in this brief and inadequate 
reference to the contents of Egyptian tombs. Their fuller interpreta- 
tion awaits the labour of students now working at them. 

In the same spirit I wish to leave open the question of what possible 
rational interpretation may be given to the mediaeval phrase '* Resur- 


and happier than the imaginings of men ; or, as Dr. Schuster 
said in his Presidential address to the British Association 
at Manchester, 1915, " The real world is far more beauti- 
ful than any of our dreams." 

What is the simple truth ? It can be regarded from 
two points of view, the prosaic and the poetic. 

Prosaically we can say that the process of decay, if 
regarded scientifically, is not in itself necessarily repugnant. 
It may be as interesting as fermentation or any other 
chemical or biological process. Putrefaction, like poison, 
is hostile to higher living organisms, and hence a self- 
protecting feeling of disgust has arisen round it, in the 
course of evolution. An emotional feeling arises in the 
mind of anyone who has to combat any process or opera- 
tion of nature, like the violent emotions excited in an 
extreme teetotaller by the word ' drink ' : a result of the 
evil its profanation has done ; for the verb itself is surely 
quite harmless. Presumably a criminal associates dis- 
agreeable anticipations with the simple word ' hanging/ 
The idea of a rank weed is repulsive to a gardener, but not 
to a botanist ; the idea of disease is repellent to a pro- 
spective patient, not to a doctor or bacteriologist ; the 
idea of dirt is objectionable to a housewife, but it is only 
matter out of place ; the word ' poison ' conveys nothing 
objectionable to a chemist. Everything removed from 
the emotional arena, and transplanted into the intellectual, 
becomes interesting and tractable and worthy of study. 
Living organisms of every kind are good in themselves, 
though when out of place and beyond control they may 
be harmful. A tiger is an object of dread to an Indian 
village : to a hunting party he may be keenly attractive. 
In any case he is a lithe and beautiful and splendid 
creature. Microscopic organisms may have troublesome 
and destructive effects, but in themselves they can be 
studied with interest and avidity. All living creatures 
have their assuredly useful function, only it may be a 
function on which we naturally shrink from dwelling when 
in an emotional mood. Everything of this kind is an 

rection of the body " ; a subject on which much has been written. 
What I am contending against is not the scholarly but the popular 
interpretation. For further remarks on this subject see Chapter VII 


affair of mood ; and, properly regarded, nothing in nature 
is common or unclean. That a flying albatross is a 
beautiful object every one can cordially admit, but that 
the crawling surface of a stagnant sea can be regarded 
with friendly eyes seems an absurdity ; yet there is 
nothing absurd in it. It is surely the bare truth concern- 
ing all living creatures of every grade, that " the Lord God 
made them all" ; and it was of creeping water- snakes that 
the stricken Mariner at length, when he had learnt the 
lesson, ejaculated: 

11 O happy living things 1 
A spring of love gushed from my heart, 
And I blessed them unaware." 


For what can be said poetically about the fate of 
the beloved body, the poets themselves must be appealed 
to. But that there is kinship between the body and the 
earth is literal truth. Of terrestrial particles it is wholly 
composed, and that they should be restored to the earth 
whence they were borrowed is natural and peaceful. 
Moreover, put of the same earth, and by aid of the very 
same particles, other helpful forms of life may arise ; 
and though there may be no conscious unification or real 
identity, yet it is pardonable to associate, in an imaginative 
and poetic mood, the past and future forms assumed by the 
particles :- 

" Lay her i' the earth ; 
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, 
May violets spring I " 

Quotations are hardly necessary to show that this idea 
runs through all poetry. An ancient variety is enshrined 
in the Hyacinthus and Adonis legends. From spilt blood 
an inscribed lily springs, in the one tale ; and the 
other we may quote in Shakespeare's version ( Venus and 
Adonis) : 

" And in his blood that on the ground lay spilled, 
A purple flower sprung up chequered with white, 
Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood 
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood." 


So also Tennyson : 

11 And from his ashes may be made 
The violet of his native land." 

In Memoriam 

We find the same idea again, I suppose, in the eastern 
original of Fitzgerald's well-known stanza : 

11 And this delightful Herb whose tender Green 
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean 

Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who knows 
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen I " 

The soil of a garden is a veritable charnel-house of 
vegetable and animal matter, and from one point of 
view represents death and decay, but the coltsfoot cover- 
ing an abandoned heap of refuse, or the briar growing 
amid ruin, shows that Nature only needs time to make 
it all beautiful again. Let us think of the body as trans- 
muted, not as stored. 

The visible shape of the body was no accident, it 
corresponded to a reality, for it was caused by the in- 
dwelling vivifying essence ; and affection entwines itself 
inevitably round not only the true personality of the de- 
parted, but round its material vehicle also the sign and 
symbol of so much beauty, so much love. Symbols 
appeal to the heart of humanity, and anything cherished 
and honoured becomes in itself a thing of intrinsic value, 
which cannot be regarded with indifference. The old and 
tattered colours of a regiment, for which men have laid 
down their lives though replaced perhaps by some- 
thing newer and more durable cannot be relegated to 
obscurity without a pang. And any sensitive or sym- 

Kathetic person, contemplating such relics hereafter, may 
>el some echo of the feeling with which they were re- 
garded, and may become acquainted with their history 
and the scenes through which they have passed. 

In such cases the kind of knowledge to be gained 
from the relic, and the means by which additional informa- 
tion can be acquired, are intelligible; but in other cases also 
information can be attained, though by means at present 
not understood. It may sound superstitious, but it is a 



matter of actual experience, that some sensitives have 
intuitive perception, of an unfamiliar kind, concerning 
the history and personal associations of relics or frag- 
ments or personal belongings. The faculty is called 
psychometry ; and it is no more intelligible, although no 
less well-evidenced, than the possibly allied faculty of 
dowsing or so-called water-divining. Psychometry is a 
large subject .on which much has already been written : 
this brief mention must here suffice. 

It seems to me that these facts, when at length properly 
understood, will throw some light on the connexion be- 
tween mind and matter ; and then many another obscure 
region of semi-science and semi-superstition will be illumin- 
ated. At present in all such tracts we have to walk warily, 
for the ground is uneven and insecure ; and it is better, or 
at least safer, for the majority to forgo the recognition 
of some truth than rashly to invade a district full of 
entanglements and pitfalls. 


Longfellow's line, " There is no death ; what seems so 
is transition, 1 ' at once suggests itself. Read literally the 
first half of this sentence is obviously untrue, but in the 
sense intended, and as a whole, the statement is true 
enough. There is no extinction, and the change called 
death is the entrance to a new condition of existence 
what may be called a new life. 

Yet life itself is continuous, and the conditions of the 
whole of existence remain precisely as before. Circum- 
stances have changed for the individual, but only in the 
sense that he is now aware of a different group of facts. 
The change of surroundings is a subj ective one. The facts 
were of course there, all the time, as the stars are there in 
the daytime ; but they were out of our ken. Now these 
come into our ken, and others fade into memory. 

The Universe is one, not two. Literally there is no 
* other ' world except in the limited and partial sense of 
other planets the Universe is one. We exist in it con- 
tinuously all the time ; sometimes conscious in one way, 
sometimes conscious in another ; sometimes aware of a 
group of facts on one side of a partition, sometimes aware 


of another group, on the other side. But the partition is 
a subjective one ; we are all one family all the time, so 
long as the link of affection is not broken. And for those 
who believe in prayer at all to cease from praying for the 
welfare of their friends because they are materially in- 
accessible though perhaps spiritually more accessible 
than before is to succumb unduly to the residual evil of 
past ecclesiastical abuses, and to lose an opportunity of 
happy service. 




fs Sit down before fact as a little child, be prepared to give 
up every preconceived notion, follow humbly wherever and to 
whatsoever abysses Nature leads. 11 HUXLEY 

PEOPLE often feel a notable difficulty in believing 
in the reality of continued existence. Very likely 
it is difficult to believe or to realise existence in 
what is sometimes called " the next world " ; but then, 
when we come to think of it, it is difficult to believe in 
existence in this world too ; it is difficult to believe in 
existence at all. The whole problem of existence is a 
puzzling one. It could by no means have been predicated 
a priori. The whole thing is a question of experience ; 
that is, of evidence. We know by experience that things 
actually do exist ; though how they came into being, and 
what they are all for, and what consequences they have, 
is more than we can tell. We have no reason for asserting 
that the kind we are familiar with is the only kind of 
existence possible, unless we choose to assert it on the 
ground that we have no experience of any other. But 
that is becoming just the question at issue : have we any 
evidence, either direct or indirect, for any other existence 
than this ? If we have, it is futile to cite in opposition to 
it the difficulty of believing in the reality of such an 
existence ; we surely ought to be guided by facts. 

At this stage in the history of the human race few facts 
of science are better established and more widely appreci- 
ated than the main facts of Astronomy : a general ac- 
quaintance with the sizes and distances, and the enormous 

number, of the solar systems distributed throughout space 



is prevalent. Yet to the imaginative human mind the 
facts, if really grasped, are overwhelming and incredible. 

The sun a million times bigger than the earth ; Arc- 
turus a hundred times bigger than the sun, and so distant 
that light has taken two centuries to come, though 
travelling at a rate able to carry it to New York and back 
in less than the twentieth part of a second, facts like 
these are commonplaces of the nursery ; but even as bare 
facts they are appalling. 

That the earth is a speck invisible from any one of the 
stars, that we are on a world which is but one among an 
innumerable multitude of others, ought to make us realise 
the utter triviality of any view of existence based upon 
familiarity with street and train and office, ought to give 
us some sense of proportion between everyday experience 
and ultimate reality. Even the portentous struggle in 
which Europe is engaged 

What is it all but a trouble of ants 

in the gleam of a million million of suns ? " 

Yet, for true interpretation, the infinite worth and 
vital importance of each individual human soul must be 
apprehended too. And that is another momentous fact, 
which, so far from restricting the potentialities of exist- 
ence, by implication still further enlarges them. The 
multiplicity, the many-sidedness, the magnificence, of 
material existence does not dwarf the human soul ; far 
otherwise : it illumines and expands the stage upon which 
the human drama is being played, and ought to make us 
ready to perceive how far greater still may be the possi- 
bilities nay, the actualities before it, in its infinite 
unending progress. 

That we know little about such possibilities as yet, 
proves nothing ; for mark how easy it would have been 
to be ignorant of the existence of all the visible worlds and 
myriad modes of being in space. Not until the business of 
the day is over, and our great star has eclipsed itself behind 
the earth, not until the serener period of night, does the 
grandeur of the material universe force itself upon our 
attention. And, even then, let there be but a slight 
permanent thickening of our atmosphere, and we should 
have had no revelation of any world other than our own. 


Under those conditions so barely escaped from how 
wretchedly meagre and limited would have been our con- 
ception of the Universe 1 Aye, and, unless we foolishly 
imagine that our circumstances are such as to have already 
given us a clue to every kind of possible existence, I 
venture to say that " wretchedly meagre and limited " 
must be a true description of our conception of the Uni- 
verse, even now, even of the conception of those who 
have permitted themselves, with least hesitation, to follow 
whithersoever facts lead. 

If there be any group of scientific or historical or 
literary students who advocate what they think to be a 
sensible, but what I regard as a purblind, view of existence, 
based upon already systematised knowledge and on un- 
founded and restricting speculation as to probable boun- 
daries and limitations of existence, if such students take 
their own horizon to be the measure of all things, the fact 
is to be deplored. Such workers, however admirable 
their industry and detailed achievements, represent a 
school of thought against the fruits of which we of the 
Allied Nations are in arms. 

Nevertheless speculation of this illegitimate and 
negative kind is not unknown among us. It originates 
partly in admiration for the successful labours of a bygone 
generation in clearing away a quantity of clinging parasitic 
growth which was obscuring the fair fabric of ascertained 
truth, and partly in an innate iconoclastic enthusiasm. 

The success which has attended Darwinian and other 
hypotheses has had a tendency to lead men not indeed 
men of Darwinian calibre, but smaller and less consci- 
entious men in science as well as in history and theology, 
to an over-eager confidence in probable conjecture and 
inadequate attention to facts of experience. It has even 
been said I quote from a writer in the volume Darwin 
and Modern Science, published in connexion with a 
Darwin Jubilee celebration at Cambridge that " the age 
of materialism was the least matter-of-fact age conceiv- 
able, and the age of science the age which showed least 
of the patient temper of enquiry." I would not go so far 
as this myself, the statement savours of exaggeration, but 
there is a regrettable tendency in surviving materialistic 
quarters for combatants to entrench themselves in dogma 


and preconceived opinion, to regard these vulnerable 
shelters as sufficient protection against observed and re- 
corded facts, and even to employ them as strongholds 
from which alien observation-posts can be shattered and 


l! How often have men thus feared that Nature's wonders 
would be degraded by being closelier looked into I How often, 
again, have they learnt that the truth was higher than their im- 
agination ; and that it is man's work, but never Nature's, which 
to be magnificent must remain unknown ! " F. W. H. M., 
Introduction to Phantasms of the Living 

OUR actual experience is strangely limited. We 
cannot be actually conscious of more than a single 
instant of time. The momentary flash which we call 
the present, the visual image of which can be made per- 
manent by the snap of a camera, is all of the external 
world that we directly apprehend. But our real existence 
embraces far more than that. The present, alone and 
isolated, would be meaningless to us ; we look before and 
after. Our memories are thronged with the past ; our 
anticipations range over the future ; and it is in the past 
and the future that we really live. It is so even with the 
higher animals : they too order their lives by memory 
and anticipation. It is under the influence of the future 
that the animal world performs even the most trivial 
conscious acts. We eat, we rest, we work, all with an eye 
to the immediate future. The present moment is illumin- 
ated and made significant, is controlled and dominated, 
by experience of the past and by expectation of the future. 
Without any idea of the future our existence would be 
purely mechanical and meaningless : with too little eye to 
the future a mere living from hand to mouth it becomes 
monotonous and dull. 

Hence it is right that humanity, transcending merely 
animal'scope, should seek to answer questions concerning 
its origin and destiny, and should regard with intense 



interest every clue to the problems of 'whence' and 
' whither.' 

It is no doubt possible, as always, to overstep the 
happy mean, and by absorption in and premature concern 
with future interests to lose the benefit and the training of 
this present life. But although we may rightly decide to 
live with full vigour in the present, and do our duty from 
moment to moment, yet in order to be full-flavoured and 
really intelligent beings not merely with mechanical 
drift following the line of least resistance we ought to be 
aware that there is a future, a future determined to some 
extent by action in the present ; and it is only reasonable 
that we should seek to ascertain, roughly and approxi- 
mately, what sort of future it is likely to be. 

Inquiry into survival, and into the kind of experience 
through which we shall all certainly have to go in a few 
years, is therefore eminently sane, and may be vitally 
significant. It may colour all our actions, and give a 
vivid meaning both to human history and to personal 

If death is not extinction, then on the other side of 
dissolution mental activity must continue, and must be 
interacting with other mental activity. For the fact of 
telepathy proves that bodily organs are not absolutely 
essential to communication of ideas. Mind turns out to 
be able to act directly on mind, and stimulate it into 
response by other than material means. Thought does not 
belong to the material region : although it is able to exert 
an influence on that region through mechanism provided 
by vitality. Yet the means whereby it accomplishes the 
feat are essentially unknown, and the fact that such inter- 
action is possible would be strange and surprising if we 
were not too much accustomed to it. It is reasonable to 
suppose that the mind can be more at home, and more 
directly and more exuberantly active, where the need 
for such interaction between psychical and physical or 
let us more safely and specifically say between mental 
and material no longer exists, when the restraining 
influence of brain and nerve mechanism is removed, and 
when some of the limitations connected with bodily loca- 
tion in space are ended. 

Experience must be our guide. To shut the door on 


actual observation and experiment in this particular 
region, because of preconceived ideas and obstinate pre- 
judices, is an attitude common enough, even among 
scientific men ; but it is an attitude markedly unscientific. 
Certain people have decided that inquiry into the 
activities of discarnate mind is futile ; some few consider 
it impious ; many, perhaps wisely mistrusting their own 
powers, shrink from entering on such an inquiry. But 
if there are any facts to be ascertained, it must be the duty 
of some volunteers to try to ascertain them : and for 
people having any acquaintance with scientific history to 
shut their eyes to facts when definitely announced, and 
to forbid investigation or report concerning them on pain 
of ostracism, is to imitate a bygone theological attitude 
in a spirit of unintended flattery a flattery which from 
every point of view is eccentric ; and likewise to display 
an extraordinary lack of humour. 


I do not wish to complicate the issue at present by 
introducing the idea of prognostication or prevision, for 
I do not understand how anticipation of the future is 
possible. It is only known to be possible by one of two 

(a) Inference i.e. deduction from a wide know- 
ledge of the present ; 

(6) Planning i.e. the carrying out of a pre- 
arranged scheme. 

And these methods must be pressed to the utmost 
before admitting any other hypothesis. 

As to the possibility of prevision in general, I do not 
dogmatise, nor have I a theory wherewith to explain every 
instance ; but I keep an open mind and try to collate 
and contemplate the facts. 

Scientific prediction is familiar enough ; science is 
always either historic or prophetic (as Dr. Schuster said 
at Manchester in the British Association Address for 1915), 
" and history is only prophecy pursued in the negative 
direction." This thesis is worth illustrating : That 
Eclipses can be calculated forwards or backwards is well 


known. A tide-calculating machine, again, which is used 
to churn out tidal detail in advance by turning a handle, 
could be as easily run backwards and give past tides if 
they were wanted ; but always on the assumption that 
no catastrophe, no unforeseen contingency, nothing out- 
side the limits of the data, occurs to interfere with the 
placid course of phenomena. There must be no dredging 
or harbour bar operations, for instance, if the tide machine 
is to be depended on. Free-will is not allowed for, in 
Astronomy or Physics ; nor any interference by living 

The real truth is that, except for unforeseen contin- 
gencies, past, present, and future are welded together in a 
coherent whole ; and to a mind with wider purview, to 
whom perhaps hardly anything is unforeseen, there may 
be possibilities of inference to an unsuspected extent. 
Human character, and action based upon it, may be more 
trustworthy and uncapricious than is usually supposed ; 
and data depending on humanity may be included in a 
completer scheme of foreknowledge, without the exercise 
of any compulsion. " The past/* says Bertrand Russell 
eloquently, " does not change or strive ; like Duncan, 
after life's fitful fever it sleeps well ; what was eager and 
grasping, what was petty and transitory, has faded away ; 
the things that were beautiful and eternal shine out of it 
like stars in the night." My ignorance will not allow me 
to attempt to compose a similar or rather a contrasting 
sentence about the future. 


It will be observed that none of those indications or intimations 
or intuitions which are referred to in a note on page 34, Part I, 
if they mean anything, raise the difficult question of prevision. 
In every case the impression was felt after or at the time of the 
event, though before reception of the news. The only question 
of possible prevision in the present instance arises in connexion 
witn the ' Faunus ' message quoted and discussed in Part II. But 
even here nothing more than kindly provision, in case anything 
untoward should happen, need be definitely assumed. Moreover, 
if the concurrence in time suggests prognostication, the fact that 
a formidable attempt to advance the English Front at the Ypres 
salient was probably in prospect in August 1915, though not 
known to ordinary people in England, and not fully carried out 
till well on in September, must have been within human know- 


ledge ; and so would have to be considered telepathically 
accessible, if that hypothesis is considered preferable to the 
admission of what Tennnyson speaks of as 

"Such refraction of events 
As often rises ere they rise." 

Prognostication can hardly be part of the evidence for sur- 
vival. The two things are not essential to each other ; they 
hardly appear to be connected. But one knows too little about 
the whole thing to be sure even of this, and I decline to take the 
responsibility tor suppressing any of the facts. I know that Mr. 
Myers used to express an opinion that certain kinds of prevision 
would constitute clear and satisfactory evidence of something 
supernormal, and so attract attention ; though the establishment 
of such a possibility might tend to suggest a kind of higher know- 
ledge, not far short of what might be popularly called omniscience, 
rather than of merelv human survival. 


"Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus 
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet." 

JEnetd, vi. 726 

LIFE and mind and consciousness do not belong to 
the material region ; whatever they are in them- 
selves, they are manifestly something quite dis- 
tinct from matter and energy, and yet they utilise the 
material and dominate it. 

Matter is arranged and moved by means of energy, 
but often at the behest of life and mind. Mind does not 
itself exert force, nor does it enter into the scheme of 
physics, and yet it indirectly brings about results which 
otherwise would not have happened. It definitely causes 
movements and arrangements or constructions of a pur- 
posed character. A bird grows a feather, and a bird 
builds a nest : I doubt if there is less design in the one 
case than in the other. How life achieves the guidance, 
how even it accomplishes the movements, is a mystery, 
but that it does accomplish them is a commonplace of 
observation. From the motion of a finger to the con- 
struction of an aeroplane, there is but a succession of 
steps. From the growth of a weed to the flight of an 
eagle, from a yeast granule at one end, to the human 
body at the other, the organising power of life over 
matter is conspicuous. 

Who can doubt the supremacy of the spiritual over 
the material ? It is a fact which, illustrated by trivial 
instances, may be pressed to the most portentous con- 

If interaction between mind and matter really occurs, 
and if both are persistent and enduring entities, there is no 



limit to the possibilities under which such interaction may 
occur no limit which can be laid down beforehand we 
must be guided and instructed solely by experience. 

Whether the results produced are styled miraculous 
or not, depends on our knowledge, our knowledge of all 
the powers latent in nature, and a knowledge of all the 
intelligences which exist. A savage on his first encounter 
with white men must have come into contact with what 
to him was supernatural. A letter, a gun, even artificial 
teeth, have all aroused superstition ; while a telegram 
must be obviously miraculous, to anyone intelligent enough 
to perceive the wonder. A colony of bees, unused to the 
ministrations or interference of man, might puzzle itself 
over the provision made for its habitation and activities, 
if it had intelligence enough to ponder the matter. So 
human beings, if they are open-minded and developed 
enough to contemplate all the happenings in which they 
are concerned, have been led to recognise guidance ; 
and they have responded to the perception by the wor- 
shipful attitude of religion. In other words, they have 
essentially recognised the existence of a Power transcend- 
ing ordinary nature a Power that may properly be 
called supernatural. 


Our experience of bodies here and now is that they are 
composed of material particles derived from the earth, 
whether they be bodies animated by vegetable or by 
animal forms of life. But I take it that the real meaning 
of the term ' body ' is a means of manifestation, perhaps 
a physical mode of manifestation adopted by something 
which without such instrument or organ would be in a 
different and elusive category. Why should we say that 
bodies must be made of matter ? Surely only because 
we know of nothing else of which they could be made ; 
but that lack of knowledge is not very efficient as an argu- 
ment. True, if they were made of anything else they 
would not be apparent to us now, with our particular 
evolutionally-derived sense organs ; for these only inform 
us about matter and its properties. Constructions built 
of Ether would have no chance of appealing to our senses, 


they would not be apparent to us ; they would therefore 
not be what we ordinarily call bodies ; at any rate they 
would not be material bodies. In order to become ap- 
parent to us, a psychical or vital entity must enter the 
material realm, and either clothe itself with, or temporarily 
assimilate, material particles. * 

It may be that etherial bodies do not exist ; the 
burden of proof rests upon those who conceive of their 
possible existence ; but we are bound to admit that even 
if they did exist, they would make no impression on our 
senses. Hence if there are any intelligences in another 
order of existence interlocked with ours, and if they can 
in any sense be supposed to have bodies at all, those 
bodies must be made either of Ether or of something 
equally intangible to us in our present condition. 1 

Yet, though intangible and elusive, we have reason to 
know that Ether is substantial enough, far more sub- 
stantial indeed than matter, which turns out to be a rare 
and filmy insertion in, or modification of, the Ether of 
Space; and a different set of sense organs might make 
the Ether eclipse matter in availability and usefulness. 
In my book The Ether of Space this thesis is elaborated 
from a purely physical point of view. 

I wish, however, to make no assertion concerning the 
possible psychical use of the Ether of Space. Anything 
of that kind must be speculative ; the only bodies we 
now know of in actual fact are material bodies, and we 
must be guided by facts. Yet we must not shut the door 
prematurely on other possibilities ; and we can remember 
that inspired writers have sometimes contemplated what 
they term a spiritual body. 

1 That a great poet should have represented the meeting between the 
still incarnate ^Eneas and his discarnate father Anchises as a bodily 
disappointment, is consistent : 

"Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum ; 
Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago, 
Par levibus ventis, volucrique simillima somno." 

JEneid, vi. 700 

It may be said that what is intangible ought to be invisible ; but that 
does not follow. The Ether is a medium for vision, not for touch. 
Ether and Ether may interact, just as matter and matter interact ; 
but interaction between Ether and matter is peculiarly elusive. 



But why should anyone suppose a body of some kind 
always necessary ? Why should they assume a perpetual 
sort of dualism about existence ? The reason is that we 
have no knowledge of any other form of animate existence ; 
and it may be claimed as legitimate to assume that the 
association between life and matter here on the planet has 
a real and vital significance, that without such an episode 
of earth life we should be less than we are, and that 
the relation is typical of something real and permanent. 

" Such use may lie in blood and breath.' 1 TENNYSON 

Why matter should be thus useful to spirit and even 
to life it is not easy to say. It may be that by the inter- 
action of two things better and newer results can always 
be obtained than was possible for one alone. There are 
analogies enough for that. Do we not find that genius 
seems to require the obstruction or the aid of matter for 
its full development ? The artist must enjoy being able 
to compel refractory material to express his meaning. 
Didactic writings are apt to emphasise the obstructive- 
ness of matter ; but that may be because its usefulness 
seems self-evident. Our limbs, and senses, and bodily 
faculties generally, are surely of momentous service; 
microscopes and telescopes and laboratory instruments, 
and machinery generally, are only extensions of them. 
Tools to the man who can use them : orchestra to the 
musician, lathe or theodolite to the engineer, books and 
records to the historian, even though not much more than 
pen and paper is needed by the poet or the mathematician. 

But our bodily organs are much more than any 
artificial tools can be, they are part of our very being. 
The body is part of the constitution of man. We are not 
spirit or soul alone, though it is sometimes necessary to 
emphasise the fact that we are soul at all, we are in 
truth soul and body together. And so I think we shall 
always be ; though our bodies need not always be com- 
posed of earthly particles. Matter is the accidental part : 
there is an essential and more permanent part, and the 
permanent part must survive. 


This is the strength, as I have said elsewhere and will 
not now at any length repeat, of the sacramental claims 
and practices of religion. Forms and customs which 
appeal to the body are a legitimate part of the whole ; 
and while some natures derive most benefit from the 
exclusively psychical and spiritual essence, others prob- 
ably do well to prevent the more sensuous and more 
puzzling concomitants from falling into disuse. 


H Never the spirit was born ; the spirit shall cease to be never." 


IN the whole unknown drama of the soul the episode 
of bodily existence must have profound significance. 
Matter cannot only be obstructive, even usefully 
obstructive, by which is meant the kind of obstruction 
which stimulates to effort and trains for power, like the 
hurdles in an obstacle race, it must be auxiliary too. 
Whatever may be the case with external matter, the body 
itself is certainly an auxiliary, so long as it is in health and 
strength ; and it gives opportunity for the development of 
the soul in new and unexpected ways ways in which but 
for earth life its practice would be deficient. This it is 
which makes calamity of too short a life. 

But let us not be over-despondent about the tragedy 
of the present. It may be that the concentrated training 
and courageous facing of fate which in most cases must 
have accompanied voluntary entry into a dangerous war, 
compensates in intensity what it lacks in duration, and 
that the benefit of bodily terrestrial life is not so much 
lost by violent death of that kind as might at first appear. 
Yet even with some such assurance, the spectacle of 
thousands of youths in full vigour and joy of life having 
their earthly future violently wrenched from them, amid 
scenes of grim horror and nerve-wracking noise and con- 
fusion, is one which cannot and ought not to be regarded 
with equanimity. It is a bad and unnatural truncation of 
an important part of each individual career, a part which 
might have done much to develop faculties and enlarge 


Meanwhile, the very fact that we lament so sincerely 
this dire and man-caused fate serves to illustrate the view 
we inevitably take that the earth-body is not only a means 
of manifestation but is a real servant of the soul, that 
flesh can in some sense help spirit as spirit can undoubtedly 
help flesh, and that while its very weaknesses are service- 
able and stimulating, its strength is exhilarating and 
superb: The faculties and powers developed in the animal 
kingdom during all the millions of years of evolution, and 
now inherited for better for worse by man, are not to be 
despised. Those therefore who are able to think that 
some of the essential elements or attributes of the body 
are carried forward into a higher life quite irrespective of 
the manifestly discarded material particles which never 
were important to the body, for they were always in per- 
petual flux as individual molecules those, I say, who 
think that the value derived and acquired through the 
body survives, and becomes a permanent possession of the 
soul, may well feel that they can employ the mediaeval 
phrase " resurrection of the body " to express their per- 
ception. They may feel that it is a truth which needs 
emphasising all the more from its lack of obviousness. 
These old phrases, consecrated by long usage, and familiar 
to all the saints, though their early and superficial meaning 
is evidently superseded, may be found to have an inner 
and spiritual significance which when once grasped should 
be kept in memory, and brought before attention, and 
sustained against challenge : in no case should they be 
lightly or hastily discarded. 

It seems not altogether fanciful to trace some similarity 
or analogy, between the ideas about inheritance usually 
associated with the name of Weismann, and the inherit- 
ance or conveyance of bodily attributes, or of powers 
acquired through the body, into the future life of the soul. 

When considering whether anything, or what, is likely 
to be permanent, the answer turns upon whether or not 
the soul has been affected. Mere bodily accidents of 
course are temporary ; loss of an arm or an eye is no more 
carried on as a permanent disfigurement than it is trans- 
missible to offspring. But, apart from accidents which 
may happen to the body, there are some evil things 
rendered accessible by and definitely associated with the 


body which assault and hurt the soul. And the effect 
of these is transmissible, and may become permanent. 
Habits which write their mark on the countenance 
whether the writing be good or bad are not likely to take 
effect on the body alone. And in this sense also future 
existence may be either glorified or stained, for a time, by 
persistence of bodily traits, by this kind of " resurrection 
of the body/' 

Furthermore it is found that although bodily marks, 
scars and wounds, are clearly not of soul-compelling and 
permanent character, yet for purposes of identification, 
and when re-entering the physical atmosphere for the 
purpose of communication with friends, these temporary 
marks are re-assumed ; just as the general appearance at 
the remembered age, and details connected with clothes 
and little unessential tricks of manner, may in some un- 
known sense be assumed too. 

And it is to this category that I would attribute the 
curious interest still felt in old personal possessions. They 
are attended to and recalled, not for what by a shopman 
is called their ' value/ but because they furnish useful and 
welcome evidence of identity ; they are like the pieces de 
conviction brought up at a trial, they bear silent witness 
to remembered fact. And in so far as the disposal or 
treatment of them by survivors is evidence oi the regard 
in which their late owner was held, it is unlikely that they 
should have suddenly become matters of complete in- 
difference. Nothing human, in the sense of affecting the 
human spirit, can be considered foreign to a friendly and 
sympathetic soul, even though his new preoccupations and 
industries and main activities are of a different order. It 
appears as if, for the few moments of renewed earthly 
intercourse, the newer surroundings shrink for a time into 
the background. They are remembered, but not vividly. 
Indeed it seems difficult to live in both worlds at once, 
especially after the life-long practice here of living almost 
exclusively in one. Those whose existence here was 
coloured or ennobled by wider knowledge and higher aims 
seem likely to have the best chance of conveying instruc- 
tive information across the boundary ; though their de- 
veloped powers may be of such still higher value, that only 
from a sense of duty or in a missionary spirit can they be 


expected to absent them from felicity a while in order to 
help the brethren. 

Quotation of a passage from Plotinus seems here per- 
missible : 

" Souls which once were in men, when they leave the 
body, need not cease from benefiting mankind. Some 
indeed, in addition to other services, give occult messages 
(oracular replies), thus proving by their own case that 
other souls also survive" (Enn. iv. vii. 15). 

As a digression of some importance, I venture to say 
that claims of thoughtless and pertinacious people upon 
the charitable and eminent, even here, are often excessive : 
it is to be hoped that such claims become less troublesome 
and less effective hereafter ; but it is a hope without much 
foundation. Remonstrances are useless, however, for 
only the more thoughtful and those most deserving of 
help are likely to attend to remonstrances. Nevertheless 
useless or not it behoves one to make them. We are 
indeed taught that in exceptional cases there may ulti- 
mately supervene such an extraordinary elevation of soul 
that no trouble is too great, and no appeal is unheard. But 
still, even in the Loftiest case of all, the episode of having 
passed through a human body contributes to the power 
of sympathising with and aiding ordinary humanity. 



" For nothing is that errs from law." TENNYSON 

IT is sometimes thought that memory is located in 
the brain ; and undoubtedly there must be some 
physiological process at work in the brain when any 
incident of memory is recalled and either uttered or 
written. But it does not at all follow that memory itself 
is located in the brain ; though there must be some easier 
channel, or some already prepared path, which enables 
an idea to be translated from the general mental reser- 
voir into consciousness, with clarity and power sufficient 
to stimulate the necessary nerves and muscles into a con- 
dition adequate for reproduction. 

Sometimes in order to remember a thing, one writes it 
in a note-book ; and the memory may be said to be in the 
note-book about as accurately as it may be said to be in 
the brain. A physical process has put it in the note- 
book ; there is a physical configuration persisting there ; 
and when a sort of reverse physical process is repeated, it 
can be got back into consciousness by simply what we 
call ' looking ' at the book and reading. But surely the 
real memory is in the mind all the time, and the deposit in 
the note-book is a mere detent for calling it out or for 
making it easy of recovery. In order to communicate 
any information we must focus attention on it ; and 
whether we focus attention on a part of the brain or on a 
page of a note-book matters very little ; the attention 
itself is a mental process, not a physiological one, though 
it has a physiological concomitant. 

This is an important matter, the keystone in fact of 
our problem about the connexion between mind and 
matter, and I propose to amplify its treatment further ; for 
this is an unavoidably controversial portion of the book. 



I am familiar with all the usual analogies drawn 
between organic habit and memory on the one hand, 
and the more ready repetition of physical processes 
by inorganic material on the other. Imperfectly elastic 
springs, for instance, which show reminiscences of previous 
bendings or twistings by their subsequent unwindings ; 
and cogs which wear into smooth running by repetition ; 
are examples of this kind. A violin which by long 
practice becomes more musical in tone, is another ; or 
a path which by being often traversed becomes easier 
to the feet. A flower-bed recently altered in shape, by 
being partly grassed over, is liable to exhibit its former 
outline by aid of bulbs and other half-forgotten growths 
which come up through the grass in the old pattern. 

This last is a striking example of apparent memory, 
not indeed in the inorganic but in the unconscious world ; 
where indeed it is prevalent, for every one must recognise 
the memory of animals there can be no doubt of that. 
And it would seem that a kind of race-memory must be 
invoked to account for many surprising cases of instinct ; 
of which the building of specific birds 1 nests, and the 
accurate pecking of a newly-hatched chicken, are among 
the stock instances. No experience can be lodged in the 
brain of the newly-hatched ! 

That some sort of stored facility should exist in the 
adult brain, is in no way surprising ; and that there is some 
physical or physiological concomitant of actual remem- 
brance is plain ; but that is a very different thing from 
asserting that memory itself, or any kind of consciousness, 
is located in the brain ; though truly without the aid of 
the brain it is, as far as this planet is concerned, latent and 

Plotinus puts the matter in an interesting but perhaps 
rather too extreme form : 

" As to memory, the body is an impediment . . . the 
unstable and fluctuating nature of the body makes for 
oblivion not for memory. Body is a veritable River of 
Lethe. Memory belongs to the soul " (Enn. iv. iii. 26). 

The actual reproduction or remembrance of a fact 
the demonstration or realisation of memory undoubtedly 


depends on brain and muscle mechanism ; but memory 
itself turns out to be essentially mental, and is 
found to exist apart from the bodily mechanism which 
helped originally to receive and store the impression. 
And though without that same or some equivalent 
mechanism we cannot get at it, so that it cannot be dis- 
played to others, yet in my experience it turns out not to 
be absolutely necessary to use actually the same instru- 
ment for its reproduction as was responsible for its de- 
position : though undoubtedly to use the same is easier 
and helpful. In the early Edison phonographs the same 
instrument had to be used for both reception and repro- 
duction ; but now a record can readily be transferred 
from one instrument to another. This may be regarded 
as a rough mechanical analogy to the telepathic or 
telergic process whereby a psychic reservoir o* memory 
can be partially tapped through another organism./ 

But, apart from any consideration of what may be 
regarded as doubtful or uncertain, there are some facts 
about the relation of brain to consciousness, which, 
though universally admitted, are frequently misinter- 
preted. Injure the brain, and consciousness is lost. 
' Lost ' is the right word not ' destroyed/ Repair the 
lesion, and consciousness may be restored, i.e. normal 
manifestation of consciousness can once more occur. It 
is the display of consciousness, in all such cases, that we 
mean when we speak of the effect of brain injury ; the 
utilisation of bodily organs is necessary for its exhibition. 
If the bodily organs dp not exist, or are too damaged, no 
normal manifestation is possible. That is the fact which 
may be misinterpreted. 

In general we may say, with fair security, that no 
receptivity to physical phenomena exists save through 
sense-organ, nerve, and brain; nor any initiation of 
physical phenomena, save through brain, nerve, and 
muscle. Apart from physical phenomena consciousness 
is isolated and inaccessible : we have no right to say that 
it is non-existent. In ordinary usage it is not customary 
or necessary to be always harping on this completer 
aspect of things : it is only necessary when misunder- 
standing has arisen from uniformly inaccurate, or rather 
unguarded, modes of expression. / 


In an excellent lecture by Dr. Mott on " The Effects of 
High Explosives upon the Central Nervous System," I 
find this sentence : 

" It is known that a continuous supply of oxygen is 
essential for consciousness/' 

What is intended is clear enough, but analysed strictly 
this assertion goes far beyond what is known. We do not 
really know that oxygen, or any form of matter, has any- 
thing to do with consciousness : all that we know, and all 
that Dr. Mott really means to say, I presume, is that 
without a supply of oxygen consciousness gives no physical 

Partial interruptions of physical manifestations of con- 
sciousness well illustrate this : as, for instance, when speech- 
centres of the brain alone are affected. If in such case we 
had to depend on mouth-muscle alone we should say that 
consciousness had departed, and might even think that it 
was non-existent ; but the arm-muscle may remain under 
brain control, and by intelligent writing can show that 
consciousness is there all the time, and that it is only 
inhibited from one of the specially easy modes of mani- 
festation. In some cases the inhibition may be complete, 
from such cases we do not learn much ; but when it is 
only partial we learn a good deal. 

I quote again from Dr. Mott, omitting for brevity the 
detailed description of certain surgical war-cases, under 
his care, which precedes the following explanatory inter- 
jection and summary : 

" Why should these men, whose silent thoughts are 
perfect, be unable to speak ? They comprehend all that 
is said to them unless they are deaf ; but it is quite clear 
that [even] in these cases their internal language is un- 
affected, for they are able to express their thoughts and 
judgments perfectly well by writing, even if they are deaf. 
The mutism is therefore not due to an intellectual defect, 
nor is it due to volitional inhibition of language in silent 
thought. Hearing, the primary incitation to vocalisation 
and speech, is usually unaffected, yet they are unable to 
speak ; they cannot even whisper, cough, whistle, or laugh 
aJoud. Many who are unable to speak voluntarily yet call 
out in their dreams expressions they have used in trench 
warfare and battle. Sometimes this is followed by return 


of speech, but more often not. One man continually 
shouted out in his sleep, but he did not recover voluntary 
speech or power of phonation till eight months after ad- 
mission to the hospital for shell-shock." 

Very well, all this interesting experience serves among 
other things to illustrate our simple but occasionally over- 
looked thesis. For it is through physical phenomena that 
normally we apprehend, here and now ; and it is by aid of 
physical phenomena that we convey to others our wishes, 
our impressions, our ideas, and our memories. Dislocate 
the physical from the psychical, and communication 
ceases. Restore the connexion, in however imperfect a 
form, and once more incipient communication may become 
possible again. 

That is the rationale of the process of human inter- 
course. Do we understand it ? No. Do we understand 
even how our own mind operates on our own body ? No. 
We know for a fact that it does. 

Do we understand how a mind can with difficulty and 
imperfectly operate another body submitted to its tem- 
porary guidance and control ? No. Do we know for a 
fact that it does ? Aye, that is the question a question 
of evidence. I myself answer the question affirmatively ; 
not on theoretical grounds far from that but on a basis 
of straightforward experience. Others, if they allow them- 
selves to take the trouble to get the experience, will come 
to the same conclusion. 

Will they do so best by allowing their own bodies or 
brains to be utilised ? No, that seems not even the best, 
and certainly not the only way. It may not, for the 
majority of people, be a possible way. The sensitive or 
medium who serves us, by putting his or her bodily 
mechanism at our disposal, is not likely to be best informed 
concerning the nature of the process. Mediums have 
perhaps but little conscious information to give us concern- 
ing their powers ; we must learn from what they do, not 
from what they say. The outside observer, the experi- 
menter, whose senses are alert all the time and who 
continues fully conscious without special receptivity or 
any peculiar power of his own, is in a better position to 
note and judge what is happening, at least from the 
normal and scientific point of view. Let us be as cautious 


and critical, aye and as sceptical as we like, but let us also 
be patient and persevering and fair ; do not let us start 
with a preconceived notion of what is possible and what is 
impossible in this almost unexplored universe ; let us only 
be willing to learn and be guided by facts, not by dogmas ; 
and gradually the truth will permeate our understanding 
and make for itself a place in our minds as secure as in 
any other branch of observational science. 


THE limitation of scope which eminent Professors 
of a certain school of modern science have laid 
down for themselves is forcibly expressed by one 
of the ablest of their champions thus : 

" No sane man has ever pretended, since science 
became a definite body of doctrine, that we know or ever 
can hope to know or conceive the possibility of know- 
ing whence the mechanism has come, why it is there, 
whither it is going, or what may be beyond and beside 
it which our senses are incapable of appreciating. These 
things are not ' explained ' by science and never can be." 

I should myself hesitate to promulgate such a 
markedly non-possumus and ignorabimus statement con- 
cerning the scope of physical science, even as narrowly 
and popularly understood ; but it illuminates the position 
taken up by those savants who are commonly known as 
Materialists, and explains their expressed though non- 
personal hostility to other scientific men who seek to 
exceed the boundaries laid down, and investigate things 
beyond the immediate range of the senses. 

Eliminating the future tense from the statement, 
however, I can agree with it. The instrument of trans- 
lation from the mental to the physical, and back from 
the physical to the mental, is undoubtedly the brain, 
but as to how the translation is accomplished, I venture 
to say, we have not the inkling of an idea. Nevertheless, 
hints which may gradually lead towards a partial under- 
standing of psycho-physical processes may be gained by 
study of exceptional cases : for such study is often more 
instructive than continued scrutiny of the merely normal. 

The fact of human consciousness, though it raises the 


problem to a high degree of conspicuousness, by no means 
exhausts the difficulty ; for it is one which faces us in 
connexion with every form of life. The association of 
life with matter, and of mind with life, are problems of 
similar order, and a glimmering of understanding of the 
one may be expected to throw light upon the other. But 
until we know more of the method by which the simplest 
and most familiar psycho-physical interaction occurs 
until we know enough to see how the gulf between 
two apparently different Modes of Being is bridged 
it is safest to observe and accumulate facts, and to be 
very chary of making more than the most tentative and 
cautious of working hypotheses. For to frame even a 
tentative hypothesis, of any helpful kind, may require 
some clue which as yet we do not possess. 

I have been struck by the position taken by Dr. 
Chalmers Mitchell in his notable small book Evolution 
and the War, the early chapters of which, on Germany 
of the past and present, I would like unreservedly to 
commend to the reader. Indeed, commendation of a 
friendly and non-patronising kind may well extend to the 
whole book, although it must be admitted that here and 
there mere exposition of Darwinism is suspended, and 
difficult and debatable questions are touched upon. 

On these questions I would not like to be understood 
as expressing a hasty opinion, either against or for the 
views of the author. The points at issue between us are 
more or less fine-drawn, and cannot be dealt with paren- 
thetically ; nor do I ever propose to deal with them in a 
controversial manner. The author, as a biologist of fame, 
is more than entitled to such expression of his own views 
as he has cared to give. I quote with admiration, not 
necessarily with agreement, a few passages from the part 
dealing with the relation between mind and matter, and 
especially with the wide and revolutionary difference 
between man and animal caused by either the evolution 
or the incoming of free and conscious Choice. 

He will not allow, with Bergson and others, that the 
roots of consciousness, in its lower grades, go deep down 
into the animal, and even perhaps into the vegetable, 
kingdom ; he has no patience with those who associate 
elementary consciousness and freedom and indeterminate- 


ness not merely with human life but with all life, and who 
detect rudiments of purpose and intelligence in the 
protozoa. Nor, on the other hand, does he approve the 
dogmatic teaching of the ' ultra-scientific ' school, which, 
being obsessed by the idea of man's animal origin, inter- 
prets human nature solely in terms of protoplasm. He 
opposes the possibility of this by saying : 

" However fruit ful and interesting it may be to re- 
member that we are rooted deep in the natal mud, our 
possession of consciousness and the sense of freedom is a 
vital and overmastering distinction." / 

On the more interesting of the above-mentioned al- 
ternatives Dr. Chalmers Mitchell expresses himself thus : 

" The Bergsonian interpretation does nothing to make 
consciousness and freedom more intelligible ; and by 
extending them from man, in whom we know them to 
exist, to animals, in which their presence is at best an 
inference, it not only robs them of definiteness and reality, 
but it blurs the real distinction between men and animals, 
and evades the most difficult problem of science and philo- 
sophy. The facts are more truly represented by such 
phraseology as that animals are instinctive, man is in- 
telligent, animals are irresponsible, man is responsible, 
animals are automata, man is free ; or if you like, that 
God gave animals a beautiful body, man a rational 
soul. . . ." 

And soon afterwards he continues : 

" Not ' envisaging itself/ not being at once actor, 
spectator, and critic, ' living in the flashing moment/ not 
seeing the past and the present and the future separately, 
this is the highest at which we can put the consciousness 
of animals, and herein lies the distinction between man 
and the animals which makes the overwhelming difference. 

" Must we then suppose, with Russel Wallace, that 
somewhere on the upward path from the tropical forests 
to the groves of Paradise, a soul was interpolated from an 
outside source into the gorilla-like ancestry of man ? I 
do not think so, although I not only admit but assert 
that such a view gives a more accurate statement of fact 
than does either of the fashionable doctrines that I have 
discussed. I believe with Darwin, that as the body of 
man has been evolved from the body of animals, so the 


intellectual, emotional, and moral faculties of man have 
been evolved from the qualities of animals. I help my- 
self towards the comprehension of the process by reflecting 
on two phenomena of observation [which he proceeds to 
cite]. I help myself, and perchance may help others ; 
no more ; could I speak dogmatically on what is the central 
mystery of all science and all philosophy and all thought, 
my words would roll with the thunder of Sinai." 

Let it not be supposed for a moment that this dis- 
tinguished biologist is in agreement with me on many 
matters dealt with in the present book. If he were, he 
would, I believe, achieve a more admirable and eloquent 
work than is consistent with the technically ' apologetic ' 
tone which, in the present state of the scientific atmosphere, 
it behoves me to take. To guard against unwelcome 
misrepresentation of his views, and yet at the same time 
to indicate their force, I will make one more quotation : 

" Writing as a hard-shell Darwinian evolutionist, a lover of 
the scalpel and microscope, and of patient, empirical observa- 
tion, as one who dislikes all forms of supernaturahsm, and who 
does not shrink from the implications even of the phrase that 
thought is a secretion of the brain as bile is a secretion of the 
liver, I assert as a biological fact that the moral law is as real 
and as external to man as the starry vault. It has no secure 
seat in any single man or in any single nation. It is the work 
of the blood and tears of long generations of men. It is not, in 
man, inborn or innate, but is enshrined in his traditions, in his 
customs, in his literature and his religion. Its creation and 
sustenance are the crowning glory of man, and his consciousness 
of it puts him in a high place above the animal world. Men live 
and die ; nations rise and fall, but the struggle of individual 
lives and of individual nations must be measured not by their 
immediate needs, but as they tend to the debasement or per- 
fection of man's great achievement." 

My own view, which in such matters I only put forth 
with diffidence and brevity, is more in favour of Con- 
tinuity. I do not trace so catastrophic a break between 
man and animals, nor between animal and vegetable, 
perhaps not even between organised and unorganised 
forms of matter, as does Dr. Chalmers Mitchell. 

I would venture to extend the range of the term 
' soul ' down to a very large denominator, to cases in 
which the magnitude of the fraction becomes excessively 
minute, and tentatively admit to the possibility of 


survival, though not individual survival, every form of 
life. As to Individuality and Personality they can only 
survive where they already exist ; when they really 
exist they persist ; but bare survival, as an alternative to 
improbable extinction, may be widespread. 

Matter forms an instrument, a means of manifesta- 
tion, but it need not be the only one possible. We have 
utilised matter to build up this beautiful bodily mechan- 
ism, but, when that is done with, the constructive ability 
remains ; and it can be expected to exercise its organis- 
ing powers in other than material environment. If this 
hypothesis be true at all (and admittedly I am now making 
hypothesis) it must be true oj all forms of life ; for what 
the process of evolution has accomplished here may 
be accomplished elsewhere, under conditions at present 
unknown. 1 So I venture to surmise that the surroundings 
of non-material existence will be far more homely and 
habitual than people in general have been accustomed 
to think likely. 

And how do I know that the visible material body of 
anything is all the body, or all the existence, it possesses ? 
Why should not things xist also, or have ethereal counter- 
parts, in an ethereal world ? Perhaps everything has 
already an ethereal counterpart, of which our senses tell 
us the material aspect only. I do not know. Such an 
idea may be quoted as an absurdity ; but if the evidence 
drives me in that direction, in that direction I will go, 
without undue resistance. There have been those who 
do not wait to be driven, but who lead ; and the inspired 
guidance of Plotinus in that direction may secure more 
attention, and attract more disciples, when the way is 
illuminated by discoverable facts. 

Meanwhile facts await discovery. 

Passages from Plotinus, it may be remembered, are eloquently 
translated by F. W. H. Myers, from the obscure and often un- 
grammatical Greek, in Human Personality, vol. ii. pp. 289- 
291 ; and readers of S.P.R. Proceedings, vol. xxii. pp. 108-172, 
will remember the development by Mrs. Verrall of the oi avros 
wpavbs dicv/ioov motto prefixed to F. W. H. Myers's post- 
humously published poem on Tennyson in Fragments of Prose 
and Poetry. 

1 1 wish to emphasise this paragraph, as perhaps an important one. 


My reference just above to teachings of Plotinus about the 
kind of things to be met with in the other world, or the ethereal 
world, or whatever it may be called, is due to information from 
Professor J. H. Muirhead that, roughly speaking, Plotinus teaches 
that things there are on the same plan as things here : each thing 
here having its counterpart or corresponding existence there, 
though glorified and fuller of reality. Not to misrepresent this 
doctrine, but to illustrate it as far as can be by a short passage, 
Professor Muirhead has given me the following translation from 
the Enneads : 

-But again let us speak thus: For since we hold that 
this universe is framed after the pattern of That, every 
living thing must needs first be There ; and since Its 
Being is perfect, all must be There. Heaven then must 
There be a living thing nor void of what are here called 
stars; indeed such things belong to heaven. Clearly too the 
earth which is There is not an empty void, but much more 
full of life, wherein are all creatures that are here called 
land animals and plants that are rooted in life. And sea is 
There, and all water in ebb and flow and in abiding life, and 
all creatures that are in the water. And air is a part of the 
all that is There, and creatures of the air in accordance with the 
nature and laws of air. For in the Living how should living 
things fail ? How then can any living thing fail to be There, 
seeing that as each of the great parts of nature is, so needs must 
be the living things that therein are ? As then Heaven is, and 
There exists, so are and exist all the creatures that inhabit it ; 
nor can these fail to be, else would those (on earth ?) not be." 

Enn. vi. vii. 

The reason why this strange utterance or speculation 
is reproduced here is because it seems to some extent 
to correspond with curious statements recorded in 
another part of this book ; e.g. in Chapter XIV, Part II. 

I expect that it would be misleading to suppose that 
the terms used by Plotinus really signify any difference of 
locality. It may be nearer the truth to suppose that when 
freed from our restricting and only matter-revealing senses 
we become aware of much that was and is ' here ' all the 
time, interfused with the existence which we knew; 
forming part indeed of the one and only complete existence, 
of which our present normal knowledge is limited to a single 
aspect. We might think and speak of many interpene- 
trating universes, and yet recognise that ultimately they 
must be all one. It is not likely that the Present differs 
from what we now call the Future except in our mode of 
perceiving it. 


" In scientific truth there is no finality, and there should 
therefore be no dogmatism. When this is forgotten, then science 
will become stagnant, and its high-priests will endeavour to 
strangle new learning at its birth." R. A. GREGORY, Discovery 

HOW does mind communicate with mind ? Our 
accustomed process is singularly indirect. 
Speech is the initiation of muscular movements, 
under brain and nerve guidance, which result in the pro- 
duction of atmospheric pulsations alternate condensa- 
tions and rarefactions which spread out in all directions 
in a way that can be likened superficially to the spreading 
of ripples on a pond. In themselves the aerial pulsations 
have no psychical connotation, and are as purely mech- 
anical as are those ripples, though like the indentations 
on the wax of a phonograph their sequence is cunningly 
contrived ; and it is in their sequence that the code lies 
a code which anyone who has struggled with a foreign 
language knows is difficult to learn. Sound waves have 
in some respects a still closer analogy with the ethereal 
pulsations generated at a wireless- telegraph sending 
station, which affect all sensitive receiving instruments 
within range and convey a code by their artificially in- 
duced sequence. 

Hearing is reception of a small modicum of the above 
aerial pulsations, by suitable mechanism which enables 
them to stimulate ingeniously contrived nerve-endings, 
and so at length to affect auditory centres in the 
brain, and to get translated into the same kind of con- 
sciousness as was responsible for the original utterance. 
The whole is done so quickly and easily, by the perfect 



physiological mechanism provided, that the indirect and 
surprising nature of the process is usually overlooked ; 
as most things are when they have become familiar. 
Wireless telegraphy is not an iota more marvellous, 
but, being unfamiliar, it has aroused a sense of 

Writing and Reading by aid of black marks on a piece of 
paper, perceived by means of the Ether instead of the air, 
and through the agency of the eye instead of the ear, 
though the symbols are ultimately to be interpreted as if 
heard, hardly need elaboration in order to exhibit their 
curiously artificial and complicated indirectness : and 
in their case an element of delay, even a long time-interval 
perhaps centuries may intervene between production 
and reception. 

Artistic representation also, such as painting or music, 
though of a less articulate character, less dependent on 
purely linguistic convention and less limited by nation- 
ality, is still truly astonishing when intellectually 
regarded. An arrangement of pigments designed for 
the reception and modification and re-emission or 
reflexion of ether-tremors, in the one case; and, in 
the other, a continuous series of complicated vibra- 
tions excited by grossly mechanical means; intervene 
between the minds of painter and spectator, of composer 
and auditor, or, in more general terms, between agent 
and percipient, again with possible great lapse of 

That ideas and feelings, thus indirectly and mechani- 
cally transmitted or stored, can affect the sensitive soul 
in unmistakable fashion, is a fact of experience ; but 
that deposits in matter are competent to produce so 
purely psychic an effect can surely only be explained in 
terms of the potentialities and previous experience of the 
mind or soul itself. No emotional influence can be ex- 
pressed, or rendered intelligible, in terms of matter. 
Matter is an indirect medium of communication between 
mind and mind. That direct telepathic intercourse 
should be able to occur between mind and mind, without 
all this intermediate physical mechanism, is therefore 
not really surprising. It has to be proved, no doubt, 
but the fact is intrinsically less puzzling than many of 


those other facts to which we have grown hardened by 

Why should telepathy be unfamiliar to us ? Why 
should it seem only an exceptional or occasional method 
of communication ? There is probably, as M. Bergson 
has said, an evolutionary advantage in our present 
almost exclusive limitation to mechanical and physical 
methods of communication ; for these are under muscular 
control and can be shut off. We can isolate ourselves 
from them, if not in a mechanical, then in a topo- 
graphical manner : we can go away, out of range. We 
could not thus protect ourselves against insistent 
telepathy. Hence probably the practical usefulness of 
the inhibiting and abstracting power of the brain ; 
a power which in some lunatics is permanently 

Physical things can reach consciousness if at all 
only through the brain ; that remains true as regards 
physical things, however much we may admit telepathy 
from other minds ; and, conversely, only through the 
brain can we operate with conscious purpose on the 
material world. To any more direct mental or spiritual 
intercourse we are, unless specially awakened, temporarily 
dead or asleep. There is some inversion of ordinary ideas 
here, for a state of trance appears to rouse or free the 
dormant faculties, and to render direct intercourse more 
possible. At any rate it does this for some people. 
For we find here and there, a few perfectly sane 
individuals, from whom, when in a rather exceptional 
state, the customary brain-limitation seems to be with- 
drawn or withdrawable. Their minds cease to be 
isolated for a time, and are accessible to more direct 
influences. Not the familiar part of their minds, not 
the part accustomed to operate and to be operated 
on by the habitually used portion of brain, no, but 
what is called a subliminal stratum of mind, a part 
only accessible perhaps to physical things through an 
ordinarily unused and only subconscious portion of 
the brain. 

The occurrence of such people, i.e. of people with such 
exceptional and really simple faculties, could not have 
been predicted or expected on a basis erf everyday experi- 


ence ; but if evidence is forthcoming for their existence 
even although it be not quite of an ordinary character 
and if we can make examination of the subject-matter 
and criticise the statements of fact which are thus re- 
ceivable, there is no sort of sense in opposing the facts 
by adducing preconceived negative opinions about im- 
possibility, and declining to look into the evidence or 
judge of the results. There were people once who would 
not look at the satellites of Jupiter, lest their cherished 
convictions should be disturbed. There was a mathe- 
matician not long ago who would not see an experimental 
demonstration of conical refraction, lest if it failed his 
confidence in refined optical theory should be upset. 
And so, strange to say, there are people to-day who deny 
the fact, and condemn the investigation, of any manner of 
communication outside the realm of ordinary common- 
place experience : having no ground at all for their denial 
save prejudice. 

Well, like other little systems, they have their day and 
cease to be. We need not attend to them overmuch. 
If the facts of the Universe have come within our con- 
templation, a certain amount of contemporary blindness, 
though it may surprise, need not perplex us. The study 
of the material side of things, under the limitations appro- 
priate thereto, has done splendid service. Only gradually 
can mental scope be enlarged to take in not only all this 
but more also. 

In so far as those who are open to the less well-defined 
and more ambitious region are ignorant or unresponsive 
to what has been achieved in the material realm, it is no 
wonder that their asserted enlargement of scope is not 
credited. It does not seem likely that a new revelation 
has been vouchsafed to them, when they are so ignorant 
concerning the other and already recognised kind of 
Natural knowledge. They cannot indeed have attained 
information through the same channels, or in the same 
way. And it is this dislocation of knowledge, this differ- 
ence of atmosphere, this barely reconcilable attitude of 
two diverse groups of people though occasionally, by the 
device of water-tight compartments, the same individual 
has breathed both kinds of air and belonged to both 
groups it is this bifurcation of method that has retarded 


mutual understanding. There are pugnacious members 
of either group who try to strengthen their own position 
by decrying the methods of the other ; and were it not 
for the occurrence from time to time of a Wallace or a 
Crookes, i.e. of men who combine in their own persons 
something of both kinds of knowledge, attained not by 
different but by similar methods all their theses being 
maintained and justified on scientific grounds, and after 
experimental inquiry the chances for a reasonable and 
scientific outlook into a new region, and ultimately over 
the border-line into the domain of religion, would not be 
encouraging. The existence of such men, however, has 
given the world pause, has sometimes checked its facile 
abuse, and has brought it occasionally into a reflective, 
perhaps now even into a partially receptive, mood. We 
need not be in any hurry, though we can hardly help 
hoping for quick progress if the new knowledge can in any 
way alleviate the terrible amount of sorrow in the world 
at present ; moreover, if a new volume is to be opened in 
man's study of the Universe, it is time that the early 
chapters were being perused. 

It may be asked, do I recommend all bereaved persons 
to devote the time and attention which I have done 
to getting communications and recording them? Most 
certainly I do not. I am a student of the subject, and a 
student often undertakes detailed labour of a special kind. 
I recommend people in general to learn and realise that 
their loved ones are still active and useful and interested 
and happy more alive than ever in one sense and to 
make up their minds to live a useful life till they rejoin 

What steps should be taken to gain this peaceful 
assurance must depend on the individual. Some may 
get it from the consolations of religion, some from the 
testimony of trusted people, while some may find it 
necessary to have first-hand experience of their own 
for a time. And if this experience can be attained 
privately, with no outside assistance, by quiet and medi- 
tation or by favour of occasional waking dreams, so much 
the better. 

What people should not do, is to close their minds to 
the possibility of continued existence except in some lofty 


and inaccessible and essentially unsuitable condition; 
they should not selfishly seek to lessen pain by discourag- 
ing all mention, and even hiding everything likely to 
remind them, of those they have lost ; nor should they 
give themselves over to unavailing and prostrating grief. 
Now is the time for action ; and it is an ill return to 
those who have sacrificed all and died for the Country 
if those left behind do not throw off enervating dis- 
tress and helpless lamentation, and seek to live for the 
Country and for humanity, to the utmost of their 

Any steps which are calculated to lead to this whole- 
some result in any given instance are justified ; and it is 
not for me to offer advice as to the kind of activity most 
appropriate to each individual case. 

I have suggested that the new knowledge, when 
generally established and incorporated with existing 
systems, will have a bearing and influence on the region 
hitherto explored by other faculties, and considered to be 
the domain of faith. It certainly must be so, whether the 
suggested expansion of scientific scope is welcomed or not. 
Certainly the conclusions to which I myself have been led 
by one mode of access are not contradictory of the con- 
clusions which have been arrived at by those who (natur- 
ally) seem to me the more enlightened theologians ; though 
I must confess that with some of the ecclesiastical over- 
growth which has remained with us from a bygone day, 
a psychic investigator can have but little sympathy. 
Indeed he only refrains from attacking it because he 
feels that, left to itself, it will be superseded by something 
better and more fruitful, and will die a natural death. 
There is too much wheat mingled with the tares to 
render it safe for any but an ecclesiastical expert to 
attempt to uproot them. 

Meanwhile, although some of the official exponents of 
Christian doctrine condemn any attempt to explore things 
of this kind by secular methods ; while others refrain from 
countenancing any results thus obtained ; there are many 
who would utilise them in their teaching if they con- 
scientiously could, and a few who have already begun to 
do so, on the strength of their own knowledge, however 


derived, and in spite of the risk of offending weaker 
brethren. 1 

1 For instance, a book called The Gospel of the Hereafter, by 
Dr. J. Paterson Smyth, of Montreal, may be brought to the notice 
of anyone who, while clinging tightly to the essential tenets of orthodox 
Christianity, and unwilling or unable to enter upon a course of study, 
would gladly interpret eastern and mediaeval phrases hi a sense not 
repugnant to the modern spirit* 



"But he, the spirit himself, may come 
Where all the nerve of sense is numb." 

TENNYSON, In Memoriam 

HOWEVER it be accomplished, and whatever re- 
ception the present-day scientific world may give 
to the assertion, there are many now who know, 
by first-hand experience, that communication is possible 
across the boundary if there is a boundary between the 
world apprehended by our few animal-derived senses and 
the larger existence concerning which our knowledge is 
still more limited. 

Communication is not easy, but it occurs ; and 
humanity has reason to be grateful to those few indi- 
viduals who, finding themselves possessed of the faculty 
of mediumship, and therefore able to act as intermediaries, 
allow themselves to be used for this purpose. 

Such means of enlarging our knowledge, and entering 
into relations with things beyond animal ken, can be abused 
like any other power : it can be played with by the merely 
curious, or it can be exploited in a very mundane and un- 
worthy way in the hope of warping it into the service of 
selfish ends, in the same way as old and long accessible 
kinds of knowledge have too often been employed. But 
it can also be used reverently and seriously, for the very 
legitimate purpose of comforting the sorrowful, helping 
the bereaved, and restoring some portion of the broken 
link between souls united in affection but separated for a 
time by an apparently impassable barrier. The barrier is 
turning out to be not hopelessly obdurate after all ; inter- 
course between the two states is not so impossible as had 



been thought ; something can be learnt about occurrences 
from either side ; and gradually it is probable that a large 
amount of consistent and fairly coherent knowledge will be 

Meanwhile broken ties of affection have the first claim ; 
and early efforts at communication from the departed are 
nearly always directed towards assuring survivors of the 
fact of continued personal existence, towards helping them 
to realise that changed surroundings have in no way 
weakened love or destroyed memory, and urging upon 
their friends with eager insistence that earthly happiness 
need not he irretrievably spoiled by bereavement. For 
purposes of this kind many trivial incidents are recalled, 
such as are well adapted to convince intimate friends and 
relatives that one particular intelligence, and no other, 
must be the source from which the messages ultimately 
spring, through whatever intermediaries they have to be 
conveyed. And to people new to the subject such messages 
are often immediately convincing. 

Further thought, however, raises difficulties and doubts. 
The gradually recognised possibility of what may be called 
normal telepathy, or unconscious mind-reading from sur- 
vivors, raises hesitation felt most by studious and 
thoughtful people about accepting such messages as irre- 
fragable evidence of persistent personal existence ; and to 
overcome this curious and unexpected and perhaps rather 
artificial difficulty, it is demanded that facts shall be given 
which are unknown to anyone present, and can only sub- 
sequently be verified. Communications of this occasional 
and exceptional kind are what are called, by psychic in- 
vestigators, more specifically ' evidential ' : and time and 
perhaps good fortune may be required for their adequate 
reception and critical appreciation. For it is manifest 
that most things readily talked about between two 
friends, and easily reproducible in hasty conversation, will 
naturally be of a nature common to both, and on subjects 
well within each other's knowledge. 

The more recent development of an elaborate scheme 
of ' cross-correspondence/ entered upon since the death of 
specially experienced and critical investigators of the 
S.P.R., who were familiar with all these difficulties, and 
who have taken strong and most ingenious means to over- 


come them, has made the proof, already very strong, now 
almost crucial. The only alternative, in the best cases, is 
to imagine a sort of supernormal mischievousness, so 
elaborately misleading that it would have to be stigmatised 
as vicious or even diabolical. 

In most cases complete proof of this complicated and 
cold-blooded kind is neither forthcoming nor is necessary : 
indeed it can hardly be appreciated or understood by 
non-studious people. Effective evidence is in most cases 
of a different kind, and varies with the personality con- 
cerned. It often happens that little personal touches, 
incommunicable to others in their full persuasiveness, 
sooner or later break down the last vestiges of legitimate 
scepticism. What goes on beyond that will depend upon 
personal training and interest. With many, anything like 
scientific inquiry lapses at this point, and communication 
resolves itself into emotional and domestic interchange of 
ordinary ideas. But in a few cases the desire to give new 
information is awakened ; and when there is sufficient re- 
ceptivity, and, what is very important, a competent and 
suitable Medium for anything beyond commonplace mes- 
sages, instructive and general information may be forth- 
coming. An explanation or description of the methods of 
communication, for instance, as seen from their side ; or 
some information concerning the manner of life there ; 
and occasionally even some intelligent attempt to lessen 
human difficulties about religious conceptions, and to give 
larger ideas about the Universe as a whole, all these at- 
tempts have been made. But they always insist that their 
information is but little greater than ours, and that they 
are still fallible gropers after truth, of which they keenly 
feel the beauty and importance, but of which they realise 
the infinitude, and their own inadequacy of mental grasp, 
quite as clearly as we do here. 

These are what we call the ' unverifiable ' communica- 
tions ; for we cannot bring them to book by subsequent 
terrestrial inquiry in the same way as we can test informa- 
tion concerning personal or mundane affairs. Information 
of the higher kind has often been received, but has seldom 
been published ; and it is difficult to know what value to 
put upon it, or how far it is really trustworthy. 

I am inclined to think, however with a growing num- 


her of serious students of the subject that the time is 
getting ripe now for the production and discussion of 
material of this technically unverifiable kind ; to be scru- 
tinised and tested by internal consistency and inherent 
probability, in the same sort of way as travellers' tales 
have to be scrutinised and tested. But until humanity as 
a whole has taken the initial step, and shown itself willing 
to regard such communications as within the range of 
possibility, it may be unwise to venture far in this more 
ambitious direction. 

It has nevertheless been suggested, from a philosophic 
point of view, that strict proof of individual survival must 
in the last resort depend on examination and collation of 
these 'travellers' tales/ rather than on any kind of re- 
suscitation of the past ; because, until we know more about 
memory, it is possible to conjecture, as I think Professor 
Bergson does, that all the past is potentially accessible to 
a super-subliminal faculty for disinterring it. And so one 
might, in a sceptical mood, when confronted with records 
of apparently personal reminiscence, attribute them to an 
unconscious exercise of this faculty, and say with Tennyson 

-"I hear a wind 
Of memory murmuring the past." 

I do not myself regard this impersonal memory as a 
reasonable hypothesis, I think that the simpler view is 
likely to be the truer one, so I attach importance to trivial 
reminiscences and characteristic personal touches ; but I 
do agree that abstention from recording and publishing, 
however apologetically, those other efforts has had the 
effect of making ill-informed people i.e. people with very 
little personal experience jump to the conclusion that all 
communications are of a trivial and contemptible nature. 



THAT such a contention as that mentioned at the 
end of the preceding chapter is false is well known 
to people of experience ; but so long as the demand 
for verification and proof of identity persists and it 
will be long indeed before they can be dispensed with 
so long are trifling reminiscences the best way to achieve 
the desired end. The end in this case amply explains and 
justifies the means. Hence it is that novices and critics 
are naturally and properly regaled with references to 
readily remembered and verifiable facts ; and since these 
facts, to be useful, must not be of the nature of public 
news, nor anything which can be gleaned from biographi- 
cal or historical records, they usually relate to trifling 
family affairs or other humorous details such as seem 
likely to stay in the memory. It can freely be admitted 
that such facts are only redeemed from triviality by the 
affectionate recollections interlinked with them, and by 
the motive which has caused them to be reproduced. For 
their special purpose they may be admirable ; and there 
is no sort of triviality about the thing to be proven by 
them. The idea that a departed friend ought to be 
occupied wholly and entirely with grave matters, and 
ought not to remember jokes and fun, is a gratuitous 
claim which has to be abandoned. Humour does not 
cease with earth-life. Why should it ? 

It should be evident that communications concerning 
deeper matters are not similarly serviceable as proof of 
identity, though they may have a value and interest of 
their own ; but it is an interest which could not be legiti- 



mately aroused until the first step the recognition of 
veridical intercourse had been taken ; for, as a rule, they 
are essentially unverifiable. Of such communications 
a multitude could be quoted ; and almost at random I 
select a few specimens from the automatic writings of the 
gentleman and schoolmaster known to a former genera- 
tion as M.A.Oxon. 1 Take this one, which happens to be 
printed in a current issue of Light (22 April 1916), 
with the statement that it occurs in one of M.A.Oxon. 's 
subliminally written and private notebooks, under date 
12 July 1873 many others will be found in the selec- 
tions which he himself extracted from his own script and 
published in a book called Spirit Teachings : 

" You do not sufficiently grasp the scanty hold that religion 
has upon the mass of mankind, nor the adaptability of what we 
preach to the wants and cravings of men. Or perhaps it is 
necessary that you be reminded of what you cannot see clearly 
in your present state and among your present associations. You 
cannot see, as we see, the carelessness that has crept over men as 
to the future. Those who have thought over their future have 
come to know that they can find out nothing about it, except, 
indeed, that what man pretends to tell is foolish, contradictory, 
and unsatisfying. His reasoning faculties convince him that the 
Revelation of God contains very plain marks of human origin ; 
that it will not stand the test of sifting such as is applied to works 
professedly human ; and that the priestly fiction that reason is 
no measure of revelation, and that it must be left on the threshold 
of inquiry and give place to faith, is a cunningly planned means 
of preventing man from discovering the errors and contradications 
which throng the pages of the Bible. Those who reason discover 
this soon ; those who dp not, betake themselves to the refuge of 
Faith, and become blind devotees, fanatical, irrational, and 
bigoted ; conformed to a groove in which they have been educated 
and from which they have not broken loose simply because they 
have not dared to think. It would be hard for man to devise a 
means [more capable] of cramping the mind and dwarfing the 
spirit's growth than this persuading of a man that he must not 
think about religion. It is one which paralyses all freedom of 
thought and renders it almost impossible for the soul to rise. The 
spirit is condemned to a hereditary religion whether suited or not to 
its wants. That which may have suited a far-off ancestor may be 

1 The Rev. Stain ton Moses (M.A.Oxon.) was one of the masters at 
University College School in London. He wrote automatically, i.e. 
subconsciously, in private notebooks at a regular short time each day for 
nearly twenty years, and felt that he was in touch with helpful and 
informing intelligences. 


quite unsuited to a struggling soul that lives in other times from 
tnose in which such ideas had vitality. The spirit's life is so made 
a question of birth and of locality. It is a question over which he 
can exercise no control, whether he is Christian, Mohammedan, 
or, as ye say, heathen : whether his God be the Great Spirit of 
the Red Indian, or the fetish of the savage ; whether his prophet 
be Christ or Mahomet or Confucius ; in short, whether his notion 
of religion be that of East, West, North, or South ; for in all 
these quarters men have evolved for themselves a theology which . 
they teach their children to believe. 

" The days are coming when this geographical sectarianism 
will give place before the enlightenment caused by the spread of 
our revelation, for which men are far riper than you think. The 
time draws nigh apace when the sublime truths of Spiritualism, 
rational and noble as they are when viewed by man's standard, 
shall wipe away from the face of God's earth the sectarian jealousy 
and theological bitterness, the anger and ill-will, the folly and 
stupidity, which have disgraced the name of religion and the 
worship of God ; and man shall see in a clearer light the Supreme 
Creator and the spirit's eternal destiny. 

" We tell you, friend, that the end draws nigh ; the night of 
ignorance is passing fast ; the shackles which priestcraft has 
strung round the struggling souls shall be knocked off, and in 
place of fanatical folly and ignorant speculation and superstitious 
belief, ye shall have a reasonable religion and a knowledge of the 
reality of the spirit-world and of the ministry of angels with you. 
Ye shall know that the dead are alive indeed, living as they lived 
on earth, but more truly, ministering to you with undimmished 
love, animated in their perpetual intercourse with the same 
affection which they had whilst yet incarned." 

Any one of these serious messages can be criticised 
and commented upon with hostility and suspicion ; 
they are not suited to establish the first premise of the 
argument for continuance of personality ; and if they 
were put forward as part of the proof of survival, 
then perhaps the hostility would be legitimate. It 
ought to be clear that they are not to be taken as 
oracular utterances, or as anything vastly superior 
to the capabilities of the medium through whom they 
come, though in fact they often are superior to any 
known power of a given medium, and are frequently 
characteristic of the departed personality, as we knew 
him, who is purporting to be the Communicator : though 
this remark is not applicable to the particular class of 
impersonal messages here selected for quotation. Yet in 
all cases they must surely be more or less sophisticated by 
the channel, and by the more or less strained method of 


communication, and must share some of its limitations 
and imperfections. 

However that may be, it is proper to quote them 
occasionally, as here ; not as specially profound utterances, 
but merely in contradiction of the imaginary and false 
thesis that only trivial and insignificant subjects are dealt 
with in automatic writings and mediumistic utterances. 
For such utterances whatever their value or lack of value 
are manifestly conclusive against that gratuitous and 
ignorant supposition. Whatever is thought of them, they 
are at least conceived in a spirit of earnestness, and are 
characterised by a genuine fervour that may be properlv 
called religious. 

I now quote a few more of, the records published in 
the book cited above, in this case dealing with Theo- 
logical questions and puzzles in the mind of the automatic 
writer himself : 

- All your fancied theories about God have filtered down to 
you through human channels ; the embodiments of human crav- 
ings after knowledge of Him ; the creation of minds that were 
undeveloped, whose wants were not your wants, whose God, or 
rather whose notions about God are not yours. You try hard to 
make the ideas fit in, but they will not fit, because they are the 
product of divers degrees of development. ..." 

M God I Ye know Him not ! One day, when the Spirit 
stands within the veil which shrouds the spint world from mortal 
gaze, you shall wonder at your ignorance of Him whom you have 
so foolishly imagined I He is far other than you have pictured 
Him. Were He such as you have pictured Him, were He such as 
you think, He would avenge on presumptuous man the insults 
which he puts on his Creator. But He is other, far other than 
man's poor grovelling mind can grasp, and He pities and forgives 
the ignorance of the blind mortal who paints Him after a self- 
imagined pattern. . . . When you rashly complain of us that our 
teaching to you controverts that of the Old Testament, we can 
but answer that it does indeed controvert that old and repulsive 
view . . . but that it is in fullest accord with that divinely 
inspired revelation of Himself which He gave through Jesus 
Christ a revelation which man has done so much to debase, and 
from which the best of the followers of Christ have so grievously 
fallen away." 

And again, in answer to other doubts and questions in 
the mind of the automatist as to the legitimacy of the 
means of communication, and his hesitation about em- 
ploying a means which he knew was sometimes prosti- 


'uted by knaves to unworthy and frivolous or even base 
objects, very different from those served by humorous 
md friendly family messages, about which no one with a 
spark of human feeling has a word to say when once they 
lave realised their nature and object, the writing con- 
tinued thus : 

l! If there be nought in what we say of God and of man's 
ifter-life that commends itself to you, it must be that your mind 
las ceased to love the grander and simpler conceptions which it 
lad once learned to drink in. . . ." 

!! Cease to be anxious about the minute questions which are 
:>f minor moment. Dwell much on the great, the overwhelming 
lecessity for a clearer revealing of the Supreme ; on the blank 
md cheerless ignorance of God and of us which has crept over 
the world : on the noble creed we teach, on the bright future we 
"eveal. Cease to be perplexed by thoiights of an imagined Devil. 
For the honest, pure, and truthful soul there is no Devil nor 
Prince of Evil such as theology has feigned. . . . The clouds of 
sorrow and anguish of soul may gather round [such a man] and 
tiis spirit may be saddened with the burden of sin weighed down 
with consciousness of surrounding misery and guilt, but no fabled 
Devil can gain dominion over him, or prevail to drag down his 
soul to hell. All the sadness of spirit, the acquaintance with 
spief, the intermingling with guilt, is part of the experience, in 
vdrtue of which his soul shall rise hereafter. The guardians are 
braining and fitting it by those means to progress, and jealously 
protect it from the dominion of the foe. 

"It is only they who, by a fondness for evil, by a lack of 
spiritual and excess of corporeal development, attract to them- 
selves the congenial spirits of the undeveloped who have left the 
body but not forgotten its desires. These alone risk- incursion of 
evil. These by proclivity attract evil, and it dwells with them 
at their invitation. They attract the lower spirits who hover 
nearest Earth, and who are but too ready to rush in and mar our 
plans, and ruin our work for souls. These are they of whom you 
speak when you say in haste, that the result of Spiritualism is not 
for good. You err, friend. Blame not us that the lower spirits 
manifest for those who bid them welcome. Blame man's in- 
sensate folly, which will choose the low and grovelling rather than 
the pure and elevated. Blame his foolish laws, which daily 
hurry into a life for which they are unprepared, thousands of 
spirits, hampered and dragged down by a life of folly and sin, 
which has been fostered by custom and fashion. Blame the gin- 
shops, and the madhouses, and the prisons, and the encouraged 
Lusts and fiendish selfishness of man. This it is which damns 
legions of spirits not, as ye fancy, in a sea of material fire, but 
in the flames of perpetuated lust, condemned to burn itself out 
in hopeless longing till the purged soul rises through the fire and 
surmounts its dead passions. Yes, blame these and kindred 



causes, if there be around undeveloped Intelligences who shock 
you by their deception, and annoy you by frivolity and falsehood.' 1 

I suppose that the worst that can be said about writing 
of this kind is that it consists of ' sermon- stuff e ' such as 
could have been presumably invented whether con- 
sciously or unconsciously by the automatic writer him- 
self. And the fact that with some of it he tended to 
disagree, proves no more than the corresponding kind of 
unexpected argumentation experienced by some dreamers 
(cf . L. P. Jacks, Hibbert Journal, July 1916). The same 
kind of explanation may serve for both phenomena, but 
I do not know what that explanation is. 


PERHAPS the commonest and easiest method of 
communication is what is called ' automatic writing ' 
the method by which the above examples were 
received i.e. writing performed through the agency of 
subconscious intelligence ; the writer leaving his or her 
hand at liberty to write whatever comes, without attempt- 
ing to control it, and without necessarily attending at the 
time to what is being written. 

That a novice will usually get nothing, or mere nonsense 
or scribbling, in this way is obvious : the remarkable thing 
is that some persons are thus able to get sense, and to tap 
sources of information outside their normal range. If a 
rudiment of such power exists, it is possible, though not 
always desirable, to cultivate it ; but care, pertinacity, and 
intelligence are needed to utilise a faculty of this kind. 
Unless people are well-balanced and self-critical and whole- 
somely occupied, they had better leave the subject alone. 

In most cases of fully-developed automatism known 
to me the automatist reads what comes, and makes suitable 
oral replies or comments to the sentences as they appear : 
so that the whole has then the effect of a straightforward 
conversation of which one side is spoken and the other 
written the speaking side being usually rather silent and 
reserved, the writing side free and expansive. 

Naturally not every person has the power of cultivating 
this simple form of what is technically known as motor 
automatism, one of the recognised subliminal forms of 
activity ; but probably more people could do it if they 
tried ; though for some people it would be injudicious, and 
for many others hardly worth while. 

The intermediate mentality employed in this process 



seems to be a usually submerged or dream-like stratum of 
the automatist whose hand is being used. The hand is 
probably worked by its usual physiological mechanism, 
guided and controlled by nerve centres not in the most 
conscious and ordinarily employed region of the brain. In 
some cases the content or subject-matter of the writing 
may emanate entirely from these nerve centres, and be 
of no more value than a dream ; as is frequently the 
case with the more elementary automatism set in action 
by the use of instruments known as ' planchette ' and 
' ouija/ often employed by beginners. But when the 
message turns out to be of evidential value it is presumably 
because this subliminal portion of the person is in touch, 
either telepathically or in some other way, with intelli- 
gences not ordinarily accessible, with living people at a 
distance perhaps, or more often with the apparently more 
accessible people who have passed on, for whom distance 
in the ordinary sense seems hardly to exist, and whose links 
of connexion are of a kind other than spatial. It need 
hardly be said that proof of communion of this kind 
is absolutely necessary, and has to be insisted on; but 
experience has demonstrated that now and again sound 
proof is forthcoming. 

Another method, and one that turns out to be still 
more powerful, is for the automatist not only to take off his 
or her attention from what is being transmitted through 
his or her organism, but to become comprehensively un- 
conscious and go into a trance. In that case it appears 
that the physiological mechanism is more amenable to 
control, and is less sophisticated by the ordinary intelli- 
gence of the person to whom it normally belongs ; so that 
messages of importance and privacy may be got through. 
But the messages have to be received and attended to by 
another person ; for in such cases, when genuine, the 
entranced person on waking up is found to be ignorant of 
what has been either written or uttered. In this state, 
speech is as common as writing, probably more common 
because less troublesome to the recipient, i.e. the friend or 
relative to whom or for whom messages are being thus 
sent. The communicating personality during trance may 
be the same as the one operating the hand without trance, 
and the messages may have the same general character as 


those got by automatic writing, when the consciousness is 
not suspended but only in temporary and local abeyance ; 
but in the trance state a dramatic characterisation is 
usually imparted to the proceedings, by the appearance of 
an entity called a ' Control/ who works the body of the 
automatist in the apparent absence of its customary 
manager. This personality is believed by some to be 
merely the subliminal self of the entranced person, brought 
to the surface, or liberated and dramatised into a sort of 
dream existence, for the time. By others it is supposed to 
be a healthy and manageable variety of the more or less 
pathological phenomenon known to physicians and 
psychiatrists as cases of dual or multiple personality. By 
others again it is believed to be in reality the separate 
intelligence which it claims to be. 

But however much can be and has been written on 
this subject, and whatever different opinions may be 
held, it is universally admitted that the dramatic semblance 
of the control is undoubtedly that of a separate person, 
a person asserted to be permanently existing on the other 
side, and to be occupied on that side in much the same 
functions as the medium is on this. The duty of control- 
ling and transmitting messages seems to be laid upon such 
a one it is his special work. The dramatic character of 
most of the controls is so vivid and self -consistent, that 
whatever any given sitter or experimenter may feel is 
the probable truth concerning their real nature, the 
simplest way is to humour them by taking them at their 
face value and treating them as separate and responsible 
and real individuals. It is true that in the case of some 
mediums, especially when overdone or tired, there are 
evanescent and absurd obtrusions every now and then, 
which cannot be seriously regarded. Those have to be 
eliminated ; and for anyone to treat them as real people 
would be ludicrous ; but undoubtedly the serious controls 
show a character and personality and memory of their 
own, and they appear to carry on as continuous an exist- 
ence as anyone else whom one only meets occasionally for 
conversation. The conversation can be taken up at the 
point where it left off, and all that was said appears to be 
remarkably well remembered by the appropriate control ; 
while usually memory of it is naturally and properly re- 


pudiatedby another control, even when operating through 
the same medium ; and the entranced medium knows 
nothing of it afterwards after having completely woke up. 

So clearly is the personality of the control brought 
out, in the best cases, so clear also are the statements of 
the communicators that the control who is kindly trans- 
mitting their messages is a real person, that I am disposed 
to accept their assertions, and to regard a control, when 
not a mere mischievous and temporary impersonation, as 
akin on their side to the person whom we call a medium 
on ours. 

The process of regular communication apart from the 
exceptional more direct privilege occasionally vouchsafed 
to people in extreme sorrow thus seems to involve 
normally a double medium of communication, and the 
activity of several people. First there is the ' Communi- 
cator ' or originator of ideas and messages on the other 
side. Then there is the ' control ' who accepts and trans- 
mits the messages by setting into operation a physical 
organism lent for the occasion. Then there is the ' Medium ' 
or person whose normal consciousness is in abeyance 
but whose physiological mechanism is being used. And 
finally there is the ' Sitter ' a rather absurd name the 
recipient of the messages, who reads or hears and answers 
them, and for whose benefit all this trouble is taken. In 
many cases there is also present a Note-taker to record all 
that is said, whether by sitters or by or through the 
medium ; and it is clear that the note-taker should pay 
special attention to and carefully record any hints or in- 
formation either purposely or accidentally imparted by 
the sitter. 

In scientific and more elaborately conducted cases 
there is also some one present who is known as the Experi- 
menter in charge a responsible and experienced person 
who looks after the health and safety of the medium, who 
arranges the circumstances and selects the sitters, making 
provision for anonymity and other precautions, and who 
frequently combines with his other functions the duties 
of note-taker. 

In oral or voice sittings the function of the note-taker 
is more laborious and more responsible than in writing 
sittings ; for these latter to a great extent supply their 


own notes. Only as the trance-writing is blindfold, i.e. 
done with shut eyes and head averted, it is rather illegible 
without practice ; and so the experimenter in charge 
frequently finds it necessary to assist the sitter, to whom 
it is addressed, by deciphering it and reading it aloud as 
it comes rather a tiring process ; at the same time 
jotting down, usually on the same paper, the remarks 
which the sitter makes in reply, or the questions from 
time to time asked. Unless this is done the subsequent 
automatic record lacks a good deal of clearness, and 
sometimes lacks intelligibility. 

For a voice-sitting the note-taker must be a rapid 
writer, and if able to employ shorthand has an advantage. 
Sometimes a stenographer is introduced ; but the presence 
of a stranger, or of any person not intimately concerned, 
is liable to hamper the distinctness and fullness of a 
message ; and may prevent or retard the occurrence of 
such emotional episodes as are from time to time almost 
inevitable in the cases alas too numerous at present 
where the sitter has been recently and violently bereaved. 

It is perhaps noteworthy though it may not be 
interesting or intelligible to a novice that communi- 
cators wishing to give private communications seldom or 
never object to the presence of the actual ' medium ' 
i.e. the one on our side. That person seems to be regarded 
as absent, or practically non-existent for a time ; the 
person whose presence they sometimes resent at first is 
the 'control/ i.e. the intelligence on their side who is 
ready to receive and transmit their message, somewhat 
perhaps as an Eastern scribe is ready to write the love- 
letters of illiterate persons. 

As to the presence of a note-taker or third person on 
our side, such person is taken note of by the control, and 
when anything private or possibly private is mentioned 
details of illnesses or such like that third person is 
often ordered out of the room. Sometimes the experi- 
menter in charge is likewise politely dispensed with, and 
under these circumstances the sitting occasionally takes 
on a poignant character in which note-taking by the 
deeply affected sitter becomes a practical impossibility. 
But this experience is comparatively rare ; it must not be 
expected, and cannot wisely be forced. 


Another circumstance which makes me think that the 
more responsible kind of control is a real person, is that 
sometimes, after gained experience, the Communicator 
himself takes control, and speaks or writes in the first 
person, not only as a matter of first-person-reporting, 
which frequently occurs, but really in his own proper 
person and with many of his old characteristics. So if 
one control is a real person I see no reason against the 
probability of others being real likewise. I cannot say 
that the tone of voice or the handwriting is often thus 
reproduced though it is, for a few moments, by special 
effort sometimes ; but the unusual physiological mechan- 
ism accounts for outstanding or residual differences. 
Apart from that, the peculiarities, the attitudes, the little 
touches of manner, are often more or less faithfully repro- 
duced, although the medium may have known nothing of 
the person concerned. And the characteristic quality of 
the message, and the kind of subjects dealt with, become 
still more marked in such cases of actual control, than 
when everything has to be transmitted through a kindly 
stranger control, to whom things of a recondite or technical 
character may appear rather as a meaningless collocation 
of words, very difficult to remember and reproduce. 


When operating indirectly in the ordinary way through a 
control and a medium, it usually appears to be remarkably difficult 
to get names transmitted. Most mediums are able to convey a 
name only with difficulty. Now plainly a name, especially the 
proper name of a person, is a very conventional and meaningless 
thing : it has very few links to connect it with other items in 
memory ; and hence arises the normally well-known difficulty of 
recalling one. Conscious effort made to recover a name seems to 
inhibit the power of doing so : the best plan is to leave it, and 
let subconsciousness work. An example occurred to me the other 
day, when I tried to remember the lame of a prominent states- 
man or ex-Prime Minister whom I had met in Australia. What 
I seemed to recollect was that the name began with i! D," and I 
made several shots at it, which I recorded. The effort went on 
at intervals for days, since I thought it would be an instructive 
experiment. I know now, a month or two later, without any 
effort and without looking it up, that the name was Deakin ; but 
what my shots at it were I do not remember. I will have the 
page in the notebook looked up and reproduced here, as an 


example of memory-groping, at intervals, during more than one 
day. Here they are : D. Dering, Denman, Deeming, Derriman, 
Derring, Deeley, Dempster, Denting, Desman, Deering. 

Now I knew the name quite well, and have known it for long, 
and have taken some interest in the gentleman who owns it ; and 
I am known by some members of my family to have done so. 
Hence if I had been on the other side ' and could only get as 
far as D, it would have seemed rather absurd to anyone whose 
memory for names is good. But indeed I have had times when 
names very much more familiar to me than that could not on 
the spur of the moment be recalled not always even the initial 
letter ; though, for some reason or other, the initial letter is 
certainly easier than the word. 

The kind of shots which I made at the name before recalling 
it which it may seem frivolous to have actually recorded are 
reminiscent of the kind of shots which are made by mediums 
under control when they too are striving after a name ; and it 
was a perception of this analogy which caused me to jot down 
my own guesses, or what, in the case of a medium, we should 
impolitely call - fishing.' I think that the name was certainly 
in my memory though it would not come through my brain. The 
effort is like the effort to use a muscle not often or ever used 
say the outer ear one does not know which string to pull, so to 
speak, or, more accurately, which nerve to stimulate, and the 
result is a peculiarly helpless feeling, akin to stammering. In 
the case of a medium, I suppose the name is often in the mind 
of the communicator, but it will not come through the control. 
The control sometimes describes it as being spoken or shown 
but not clearly caught. The communicator often does not know 
whether a medium has successfully conveyed it or riot. 


li If man, then, shall attempt to sound and fathom the depths 
that lie not without him, but within, analogy may surely warn 
him that the first attempts of his rude psychoscopes to give pre- 
cision and actuality to thought will grope among * beggarly ele- 
ments ' will be concerned with things grotesque, or trivial, or 
obscure. Yet here also one handsbreadth of reality gives better 
footing than all the castles of our dream ; here also by beginning 
with the least things we shall best learn how great things may 
remain to do." F. W. H. M., Introduction to Phantasms of the 

I MUST not shirk a rather queer subject which yet 
needs touching upon, though it bristles with theo- 
retical difficulties ; and that is the rationale of one of 
the most elementary methods of ultra-normal communica- 
tion, a method which many find practically the easiest to 
begin with. 

It is possible to get communication of a kind, not by 
holding a pencil in the fingers, but by placing the hand on 
a larger piece of wood not at all adapted for writing with. 
The movements are then coarser, and the code more ele- 
mentary ; but in principle, when the procedure is analysed, 
it is seen not to be essentially different. It may be more 
akin to semaphore-arm signalling or flag-wagging ; but 
any device whereby mental activity can translate itself 
into movements of matter will serve for subliminal as well 
as for conscious action ; and messages by tilting of a 
table, though crude and elementary, are not really so 
surprising or absurd as at first sight they seem. The 
tilts of a telegraphic operator's key are still more re- 
stricted ; but they serve. A pen or pencil is an inanimate 
piece of matter guided by the fingers. A planchette is a 


mere piece of wood, and when touched it must be presumed 
to be guided by the muscles, though there is often an 
illusion, as with the twig of the dowser, that the inanimate 
object is moved directly, and not by muscular inter- 
vention. So also we may assume that a table or other 
piece of furniture is tilted or moved by regular muscular 
force : certainly it can only move at the expense of the 
energy of the medium or of people present. And yet in 
all these cases the substance of the message may be 
foreign to the mind of anyone touching the instrument, 
and the guidance necessary for sense and relevance need 
not be exercised by their own consciousness. 

When a table or similar rough instrument is employed, 
the ostensible communicators say that they feel more 
directly in touch with the sitters than when they operate 
through an intermediary or ' control ' on their side, as 
they appear to find it necessary to do for actual speech 
or writing, and accordingly they find themselves able 
to give more private messages, and also to reproduce 
names and technicalities with greater facility and pre- 
cision. The process of spelling out words in this way is 
a slow one, much slower than writing, and therefore the 
method labours under disadvantages, but it seems to 
possess advantages which to some extent counterbalance 

Whether it sounds credible or not, and it is certainly 
surprising, I must testify that when a thing of any 
mobility is controlled in this more direct way, it is able to 
convey touches of emotion arid phases of intonation, so to 
speak, in a most successful manner. A telegraph key 
could hardly do it, its range of movement is too restricted, 
it operates only in a discontinuous manner, by make and 
break; but a light table, under these conditions, ^eem^ no 
longer inert, it behaves as if animated. For the time it is 
animated somewhat perhaps as a violin or piano is 
animated by a skilled musician and schooled to his will, 
and the dramatic action thus attained is very remark- 
able. It can exhibit hesitation, it can exhibit certainty ; 
it can seek for information, it can convey it ; it can appar- 
ently ponder before giving a reply ; it can welcome a 
new-comer ; it can indicate joy or sorrow, fun or gravity ; 
it can keep time with a song as if joining in the chorus; 


and, most notable of all, it can exhibit affection in an 
unmistakable manner. 

The hand of a writing medium can do these things too ; 
and that the whole body of a normal person can display 
these emotions is a commonplace. Yet they are all pieces 
of matter, though some are more permanently animated 
than others. But all are animated temporarily, not 
one of them permanently, and there appears to be no 
sharp line of demarcation. What we have to realise is 
that matter in any form is able to act as agent to the 
soul, and that by aid of matter various emotions as well 
as intelligence can be temporarily incarnated and dis- 

The extraction of elementary music from all manner 
of unlikely objects kitchen utensils, for instance is a 
known stage-performance. The utilisation of unlikely 
objects for purposes of communication, though it would 
not have been expected, may have to be included in the 
same general category. 

With things made for the purpose, from a violin to the 
puppets of a marionette show, we know that simple human 
passions can be shown and can be roused. With things 
made for quite other purposes it turns out that the same 
sort of possibility exists. 

Table- tilting is an old and despised form of amusement, 
known to many families and often wisely discarded ; but 
with care and sobriety and seriousness even this can be 
used as a means of communication ; and the amount of 
mediumistic power necessary for this elementary form of 
psychic activity appears to be distinctly less than would 
be required for more elaborate methods. 

One thing it is necessary clearly to realise and admit, 
namely that in all cases when an object is moved by 
direct contact of an operator's body, whether the instru- 
ment be a pencil or a piece of wood, unconscious muscular 
guidance must be allowed for ; and anything that comes 
through of a kind known to or suspected by the operator 
must be discounted. Sometimes, however, the message 
comes in an unexpected and for the moment puzzling form, 
and sometimes it conveys information unknown to him. 
It is by the content of the communication that its super- 
normal value must be estimated. 


There are many obvious disadvantages about a Table Sitting, 
especially in the slowness of the communications and in the fact 
that the sitter has to do most of the talking ; whereas when 
some personality is controlling a medium, the sitters need say 
very little. 

But, as said above, there are some communicators who object 
to a control's presence, especially if they have anything private 
to say ; and these often prefer the table because it seems to bring 
them more directly into contact with the sitter, without an inter- 
mediary. They seem to ignore the presence of the medium on 
our side, notwithstanding the fact that, at a table sitting, she is 
present in her own consciousness and is aware of what goes on ; 
they appear to be satisfied with having dispensed with the medium 
on their side. Moreover, it is in some cases found that information 
can be conveyed in a briefer and more direct manner, not having 
to be wrapped up in roundabout phrases, that names can be given 
more easily, and direct questions answered better, through the table 
than through a control. 

It must be remembered that under control every medium has 
some peculiarities. Mrs. Leonard, for instance, is a very straight- 
forward and honest medium, but not a particularly strong one. 
Accordingly anything like conversation and free interchange of 
ideas is hardly possible, and direct questions seldom receive 
direct answers, when put to the communicator through Feda. 

I have known mediums much more powerful in this respect, 
so that free conversation with one or two specially skilled com- 
municators was quite possible, and interchange of ideas almost 
as easy as when the communicator was in the flesh. But instances 
of that kind are hardly to be expected among hard- worked 
professional mediums. 

I shall not in this volume touch upon still more 
puzzling and still more directly and peculiarly physical 
phenomena, such as are spoken of as ' direct voice/ 
' direct writing/ and ' materialisation/ In these strange 
and, from one point of view, more advanced occurrences, 
though lower in another sense, inert matter appears 
to be operated on without the direct intervention of 
physiological mechan sm. And yet such mechanism 
must be in the neighbourhood. I am inclined to think 
that these weird phenomena, when established, will be 
found to shade off into those other methods that I have 
been speaking of, and that no complete theory of either 
can be given until more is known about both. This is one 
of the facts which causes me to be undogmatic about the 
certainty that all movements, even under contact, are 
initiated in the muscles. I only here hold up a warn- 
ing against premature decision. The wkole subject of 


psycho-physical interaction and activity requires atten- 
tion in due time and place ; but the ground is now more 
treacherous, the pitfalls more numerous, and the territory 
to many minds comparatively unattractive. Let it wait 
until long-range artillery has beaten down some of the 
entanglements, before organised forces] are summoned to 


l! The vagueness and confusion inevitable at the beginning oi 
a novel line of research, [are] naturally distasteful to the savant 
accustomed to proceed by measurable increments of knowledge 
from experimental bases already assured. Such an one, if he 
reads this book, may feel as though he had been called away from 
an ordnance survey, conducted with a competent staff and familiar 
instruments, to plough slowly with inexperienced mariners through 
some strange ocean where beds of entangling seaweed cumber 
the trackless way. We accept the analogy ; but we would remind 
him that even floating weeds of novel genera may foreshow a land 
unknown ; and that it was not without ultimate gain to men 
that the straining keels of Columbus first pressed through the 
Sargasso Sea." F. W. H. M., Introduction to Phantasms of the 

IT is rather remarkable that the majority of learned 
men have closed their minds to what have seemed bare 
and simple facts to many people. Those who call 
themselves spiritualists have an easy and simple faith ; 
they interpret their experiences in the most straight- 
forward and unsophisticated manner, and some of them 
have shown unfortunately that they can be led into 
credulity and error, without much difficulty, by un- 
scrupulous people. Nevertheless, that simple-hearted 
folk are most accessible to new facts seems to be rather 
accordant with history. Whenever, not by reasoning but 
by direct experience, knowledge has been enlarged, or when 
a revelation has come to the human race through the 
agency of higher powers, it is not the wise but the simple 
who are first to receive it. This cannot be used as an 
argument ,either way ; the simple may be mistaken, and 
may too blithely interpret their sense-impressions in the 

most obvious manner ; just as on the other hand the eyes 



of the learned may be closed to anything which appea 
disconnected from their previous knowledge. For after \ 
it is inevitable that any really new order of things mu 
be so disconnected ; some little time must elapse befo 
the weight of facts impel the learned in a new directio 
and meanwhile the unlearned may be absorbing direct e 
perience, and in their own fashion may be forging ahea 
It is an example of the ancient paradox propounded 
and about i Cor. i. 26 ; and no fault need be found wi 
what is natural. 

It behoves me to mention in particular the attitude 
men of science, of whom I may say quorum pars parvafu 
for in no way do I wish to dissociate myself from eith 
such stricture or such praise as may be appropriate to m< 
who have made a study of science their vocation, n 
indeed the peaks of the race, but the general body. For 
is safe to assume that we must have some qualities 
common, and that these must be among the causes whi< 
have switched us on to a laborious and materially unr 
munerative road. 

Michael Foster said in his Presidential Address to tl 
British Association at Dover : 

" Men of science have no peculiar virtues, no speci 
powers. They are ordinary men, their characters a 
common, even commonplace. Science, as Huxley said, 
organised common sense, and men of science are comm< 
men, drilled in the ways of common sense/' 

This of course, like any aphorism, does not bear pressii 
unduly : and Dr. Arthur Schuster in a similar Address 
Manchester hedged it round with qualifying clauses : 

" This saying of Huxley's has been repeated so oft< 
that one almost wishes it were true ; but unfortunately 
cannot find a definition of common sense that fits t 
phrase. Sometimes the word is used as if it were identic 
with uncommon sense, sometimes as if it were the sar 
thing as common nonsense. Often it means untrah* 
intelligence, and in its best aspect it is, I think, th 
faculty which recognises that the obvious solution of 
problem is frequently the right one. When, for instanc 


I see during a total solar eclipse red flames shooting out 
from the edge of the sun, the obvious explanation is that 
these are real phenomena, caused by masses of glowing 
vapours ejected from the sun. And when a learned friend 
tells me that all this is an optical illusion due to anomalous 
refraction, I object on the ground that the explanation 
violates my common sense. He replies by giving me the 
reasons which have led him to his conclusions ; and though 
I still believe that I am right, I have to meet him with a 
more substantial reply than an appeal to my own convic- 
tions. Against a solid argument common sense has no 
power, and must remain a useful but fallible guide which 
both leads and misleads all classes of the community 

The sound moral of this is, not that a common-sense ex- 
planation is likely to be the right one, or that it necessarily 
has any merits if there are sound reasons to oppose to it, 
but that the common sense or most obvious and superficial 
explanation may turn out to be after all truer as well as 
simpler than more recondite hypotheses which have been 
substituted for it. In other words the straightforward 
explanation need not be false. 

Now the phenomena encountered in psychical research 
have long ago suggested an explanation, in terms of other 
than living human intelligences, which may be properly 
called spiritistic. Every kind of alternative explanation, 
including the almost equally unorthodox one of telepathy 
from living people, has been tried : and these attempts 
have been necessary and perfectly legitimate. If they had 
succeeded, well and good ; but inasmuch as in my judge- 
ment there are phenomena which they cannot explain, and 
inasmuch as some form of spiritistic hypothesis, given 
certain postulates, explains practically all, I have found 
myself driven back on what I may call the common-sense 
explanation ; or, to adopt Dr. Schuster's parable, I con- 
sider that the red flames round the sun are what they 
appear to be. 

To attribute capricious mechanical performance to the 
action of live things, is sufficient as a proximate explana- 
tion ; as we saw in the case of the jumping bean, Chapter 
I. If the existence of the live thing is otherwise unknown, 


the explanation may seem forced and unsatisfactory. 
But if after trying other hypotheses we find that this only 
will fit the case, we may return to it after all with a clear 
conscience. That represents the history of my own pro- 
gress in Psychical Research. 


Meanwhile the attitude of scientific men is perfectly 
intelligible ; and not unreasonable, except when they 
forget their self-imposed limitations and cultivate a 
baseless negative philosophy. People who study 
mechanism of course find Mechanics, and if the 
mechanism is physiological they find Physics and 
Chemistry as well ; but they are not thereby compelled 
to deny the existence of everything else. They need 
not philosophise at all, though they should be able to 
realise their philosophical position when it is pointed 
out. The business of science is to trace out the mode of 
action of the laws of Chemistry and Physics, everywhere 
and under all circumstances. Those laws appear to be of 
universal application throughout the material Universe, 
in the most distant star as well as on the earth, in the 
animal organism as well as in inorganic matter ; and 
the study of their action alone has proved an ample 

But scientific workers are sometimes thought to be 
philosophising seriously when they should be understood 
as really only expressing the natural scope of their 
special subject. Laplace, for instance, is often mis- 
understood, because, when challenged about the place of 
God in his system, he said that he had no need of such a 
hypothesis, a dictum often quoted as if it were atheistical. 
It is not necessarily anything of the kind. As a brief 
statement it is right, though rather unconciliatory and 
blunt. He was trying to explain astronomy on clear and 
definite mechanical principles, and the introduction of a 
" finger of God " would have been not only an unwarrant- 
able complication but a senseless intrusion. Not an in- 
trusion or a complication in the Universe, be it under- 
stood, but in Laplace's scheme, his SysMme du Monde. 
Yet Browning's "flash of the will that can" in Abt 


Vogler, with all that the context implies, remains essenti- 
ally and permanently true. 

Theologians who admit that the Deity always works 
through agents and rational means can grant to scientific 
workers all that they legitimately claim in the positive 
direction, and can encourage them in the detailed study 
of those agents and means. If people knew more about 
science, and the atmosphere in which scientific men work, 
they would be better able to interpret occasional rather 
rash negations ; which are quite explicable in terms of 
the artificial limitation of range which physical science 
hitherto has wisely laid down for itself. 

It is a true instinct which resents the mediaeval practice 
of freely introducing occult and unknown causes into 
working science. To attribute the rise of sap, for instance, 
to a ' vital force ' would be absurd, it would be giving up 
the problem and stating nothing at all. Progress in science 
began when spiritual and transcendental causes were 
eliminated and treated as non-existent. The simplicity 
so attained was congenial to the scientific type of mind ; 
the abstraction was eminently useful, and was justified by 
results. Yet unknown causes of an immaterial and even 
of a spiritual kind may in reality exist, and may influence 
or produce phenomena, for all that ; and it may have to 
be the business of science to discover and begin to attend 
to them, as soon as the ordinary solid ground-plan of 
Nature has been made sufficiently secure. 

Some of us whether wisely or unwisely now want 
to enlarge the recognised scope of physical science, so as 
gradually to take a wider purview and include more of the 
totality of things. That is what the Society for Psychical 
Research was established for, to begin extending the 
range of scientific law and order, by patient exploration 
in a comparatively new region. The effort has been re- 
sented, and at first ridiculed, only because misunderstood. 
The effort may be ambitious, but it is perfectly legitimate ; 
and if it fails it fails. 

But advance in new directions may be wisely slow, and 
it is readily admissible that Societies devoted to long- 
established branches of science are right to resist extrane- 
ous novelties, as long as possible, and leave the study of 
occult phenomena to a Society established for the purpose. 


Outlandish territories may in time be incorporated as 
States, but they must make their claim good and become 
civilised first. 

Yet unfamiliar causes must be introduced occasionally 
into systematised knowledge, unless our scrutiny of the 
Universe is already exhaustive. Unpalatable facts can be 
ruled out from attention, but they cannot without investi- 
gation be denied. Strange facts do really happen, even 
though unprovided for in our sciences. Amid their 
orthodox relations, they may be regarded as a nuisance. 
The feeling they cause is as if capricious or mischievous 
live things had been allowed to intrude into the determin- 
ate apparatus of a physical laboratory, thereby introduc- 
ing hopeless complexity and appearing superficially to 
interfere with established laws. To avoid such alien 
incursion a laboratory can be locked, but the Universe can 
not. And if ever, under any circumstances, we actually do 
encounter the interaction of intelligences other than that 
of living men, we shall sooner or later become aware of the 
fact, and shall ultimately have to admit it into a more 
comprehensive scheme of existence. Early attempts, like 
those of the present, must be unsatisfactory and crude ; 
especially as the evidence is of a kind to which scientific 
men for the most part are unaccustomed ; so no wonder 
they are resentful. Still the evidence is there, and I for 
one cannot ignore it. Members of the Society for Psychical 
Research are aware that the evidence already published 
the carefully edited and sifted evidence published by 
their own organisation occupies some forty volumes of 
Journal and Proceedings ; and some of them know that a 
great deal more evidence exists than has been published, 
and that some of the best evidence is not likely to be 
published, not yet at any rate. It stands to reason that, 
at the present stage, the test evidence must often be of a 
very private and family character. Many, however, are 
the persons who are acquainted with facts in their own 
experience which appeal to them more strongly than any- 
thing that has ever been published. No records can 
surpass first-hand direct experience in cogency. 

Nevertheless we are also aware, or ougnt to be, that no 
one crucial episode can ever be brought forward as de- 
ciding such a matter. That is not the way in which 


things of importance are proven. Evidence is cumulative, 
it is on the strength of a mass of experience that an induc- 
tion is ultimately made, and a conclusion provisionally 
arrived at ; though sometimes it happens that a single 
exceptionally strong instance, or series of instances, may 
clinch it for some individual. 

But indeed the evidence, in one form and another, has 
been crudely before the human race from remote anti- 
quity ; only it has been treated in ways more or less 
obfuscated by superstition. The same sort of occurrences 
as were known to Virgil, and to many another seer the 
same sort of experiences as are found by folk-lore students, 
not only in history but in every part of the earth to-day 
are happening now in a scientific age, and sometimes under 
scientific scrutiny. Hence it is that from the scientific 
point of view progress is at length being made ; and any 
one with a real desire to know the truth need not lack 
evidence, if he will first read the records with an open 
mind, and then bide his time and be patient till an oppor- 
tunity for first-hand critical observation is vouchsafed 
him. The opportunity may occur at any time : the 
readiness is all. Really clinching evidence in such a case 
is never in the past ; a prima facie case for investigation 
is established by the records, but real conviction must be 
attained by first-hand experience in the present. 

The things to be investigated are either true or false. 
If false, pertinacious inquiry will reveal their falsity. If 
true, they are profoundly important. For there are no 
half-truths in Nature ; every smallest new departure has 
portentous consequences ; our eyes must open slowly, or 
we should be overwhelmed. I once likened the feeling of 
physical investigators in the year 1889 to that of a boy 
who had long been strumming on the keyboard of a 
deserted organ into which an unseen power had begun 
to blow a vivifying breath. 1 That was at the beginning 
of the series of revolutionary discoveries about radiation 
and the nature of matter which have since resounded 
through the world. And now once more the touch of a 
finger elicits a responsive note, and again the boy hesitates, 
half delighted, half affrighted, at the chords which it would 
seem he can now summon forth almost at will. 

1 Modern Views of Electricity, p. 408 of third and current edition. 


WHAT then is the conclusion of the whole matter ? 
Or rather, what effect have these investigations 
had upon my own outlook on the Universe ? 
The question is not so unimportant as it seems ; because 
if the facts are to influence others they must have influ- 
enced myself too ; and that is the only influence of which 
I have first-hand knowledge. It must not be supposed 
that my outlook has changed appreciably since the event 
and the particular experiences related in the foregoing 
pages : my conclusion has been gradually forming itself 
for years, though undoubtedly it is based on experience of 
the same sort of thing. But this event has strengthened 
and liberated my testimony. It can now be associated 
with a private experience of my own. instead of with the 
private experiences of others. So long as one was de- 
pendent on evidence connected, even indirectly connected, 
with the bereavement of others, one had to be reticent 
and cautious and in some cases silent. Only by special 
permission could any portion of the facts be reproduced ; 
and that permission might in important cases be withheld. 
My own deductions were the same then as they are now, 
but the facts are now my own. 

One little point of difference, between the time before 
and the time after, has however become manifest. In the 
old days, if I sat with a medium, I was never told of any 
serious imaginary bereavement which had befallen my- 
self beyond the natural and inevitable losses from an 
older generation which fall to the lot of every son of man. 
But now, if I or any member of my family goes anony- 
mously to a genuine medium, giving not the slightest 



normal clue, my son is quickly to the fore and continues 
his clear and convincing series of evidences ; sometimes 
giving testimony of a critically selected kind, sometimes 
contenting himself with friendly family chaff and remin- 
iscences, but always acting in a manner consistent with 
his personality and memories and varying moods. If 
in any case a given medium had weak power, or if there 
were special difficulties encountered on a given occasion, 
he is aware of the fact ; and he refers to it, when there 
is opportunity, through another totally disconnected 
medium (cf. Chapter XXI, Part II). In every way 
he has shown himself anxious to give convincing evi- 
dence. Moreover, he wants me to speak out ; and I 

I am as convinced of continued existence, on the other 
side of death, as I am of existence here. It may be said, 
you cannot be as sure as you are of sensory experience. 
I say I can. A physicist is never limited to direct sensory 
impressions, he has to deal with a multitude of concep- 
tions and things for which he has no physical organ : the 
dynamical theory of heat, for instance, and of gases, the 
theories of electricity, of magnetism, of chemical affinity, 
of cohesion, aye and his apprehension of the Ether itself, 
lead him into regions where sight and hearing and touch 
are impotent as direct witnesses, where they are no longer 
efficient guides. In such regions everything has to be 
interpreted in terms of the insensible, the apparently un- 
substantial, and in a definite sense the imaginary. Yet 
these regions of knowledge are as clear and vivid to him 
as are any of those encountered in everyday occupations ; 
indeed most commonplace phenomena themselves require 
interpretation in terms of ideas more subtle, the ap- 
parent solidity of matter itself demands explanation, 
and the underlying non-material entities of a physicist's 
conception become gradually as real and substantial as 
anything he knows. As Lord Kelvin used to say, when 
in a paradoxical mood, we really know more about 
electricity than we know about matter. 

That being so, I shall go further and say that I am 
reasonably convinced of the existence of grades of being, 
not only lower in the scale than man but higher also, 
grades of every order of magnitude from zero to infinity. 


And I know by experience that among these beings are 
some who care for and help and guide humanity, not dis- 
daining to enter even into what must seem petty details, 
if by so doing they can assist souls striving on their upward 
course. And further it is my faith however humbly 
it may be held that among these lofty beings, high- 
est of those who concern themselves directly with 
this earth of all the myriads of worlds in infinite 
space, is One on whom the right instinct of Christi- 
anity has always lavished heartfelt reverence and 

Those who think that the day of that Messiah is over 
are strangely mistaken : it has hardly begun. In in- 
dividual souls Christianity has flourished and borne fruit, 
but for the ills of the world itself it is an almost untried 
panacea. It will be strange if this ghastly war fosters 
and simplifies and improves a knowledge of Christ, and 
aids a perception of the ineffable beauty of his life and 
teaching : yet stranger things have happened ; and, what- 
ever the Churches may do, I believe that the call of Christ 
himself will be heard and attended to, by a large part of 
humanity in the near future, as never yet it has been 
heard or attended to on earth. 

My own time down here is getting short ; it matters 
little : but I dare not go till I have borne this testimony 
to the grace and truth which emanate from that divine 
Being, the realisation of whose tender-hearted simplicity 
and love for man may have been overlaid at times and 
almost lost amid well-intentioned but inappropriate 
dogma, but who is accessible as always to the humble 
and meek. 

Intercommunion between the states or grades of ex- 
istence is not limited to messages from friends and re- 
latives, or to conversation with personalities of our own 
order of magnitude, that is only a small and verifiable 
portion of the whole truth, intercourse between the 
states carries with it occasional, and sometimes un- 
conscious, communion with lofty souls who have gone 
before. The truth of such continued influence corre- 
sponds with the highest of the Revelations vouchsafed to 
humanity. This truth, when assimilated by man, means 
an assurance of the reality of prayer, and a certainty of 


gracious sympathy and fellow-feeling from one who never 
despised the suffering, the sinful, or the lowly ; yea, it 
means more it means nothing less than the possibility 
some day of a glance or a word of approval from the 
Eternal Christ. 




INVESTIGATION is laborious and unexciting; it 
takes years, and progress is slow ; but in all regions 
of knowledge it is the method which in the long-run 
has led towards truth ; it is the method by which what 
we feel to be solid and substantial progress has always 
been made. In many departments of human knowledge 
this fact is admitted though men of science have had 
to fight hard for their method before getting it generally 
recognised. In some departments it is still contested, 
and the arguments of Bacon in favour of free experi- 
mental inquiry are applicable to those subjects which 
are claimed as superior to scientific test. 

If it be objected that not by such means is truth in 
religious matters ascertained, if it be held that we must 
walk by faith, not by sight, and that never by searching 
will man find out any of the secrets of God, I do not care 
to contest the objection, though I disagree with its 
negative portion. That no amount of searching will ever 
enable us to find out the Almighty to perfection is mani- 
festly true ; that secrets may be revealed to inspired 
* babes * which are hidden from the wise and prudent is 
likewise certain ; but that no secret things of God can be 
brought to light by patient examination and inquiry into 
facts is false, for you cannot parcel out truth into that 
which is divine and that which is not divine ; the truths 
of science were as much God's secrets as any other, and 
they have yielded up their mystery to precisely the 
process which is called in question. 

1 Hibbert Journal, July 1911. 


We are part of the Universe, our senses have been 
evolved in and by it ; it follows that they are harmonious 
with it, and that the way it appeals to our senses is a true 
way ; though their obvious limitation entitles us to 
expect from time to time fresh discoveries of surprising 
and fundamental novelty, and a growing perception of 
tracts beyond our ancient ken. 

Some critics there are, however, who, calling them- 
selves scientific, have made up their minds in a negative 
direction and a contrary sense. These are impressed not 
only with the genuineness of the truth afforded us through 
our senses and perceptions, but with its completeness ; they 
appear to think that the main lines of research have 
already been mapped out or laid down, they will not 
believe that regions other than those to which they 
are accustomed can be open to scientific exploration ; 
especially they imagine that in the so-called religious 
domain there can be no guides except preconception and 
prejudice. Accordingly, they appear to disbelieve that 
anyone can be conscientiously taking trouble to grope his 
way by patient inquiry, with the aid of such clues as are 
available ; and in order to contradict the results of such 
inquiry they fall into the habit of doing that of which 
they accuse the workers, they appeal to sentiment and 
presumption. They talk freely about what they believe, 
what they think unlikely, and what is impossible. They 
are governed by prejudice; their minds are made up. 
Doubtless they regard knowledge on certain topics as 
inaccessible, so they are positive and self-satisfied and 
opinionated and quite sure. They pride themselves on 
their hard-headed scepticism and robust common sense ; 
while the truth is that they have bound themselves into a 
narrow cell by walls of sentiment, and have thus excluded 
whole regions of human experience from their purview. 

It so happens that I have been engaged for over forty 
years in mathematical and physical science, and for more 
than half that period in exploration into unusual psychical 
development, as opportunity arose ; and I have thus been 
led to certain tentative conclusions respecting permissible 
ways of regarding the universe. 

First, I have learned to regard the universe as a con- 


crete and full-bodied reality, with parts accessible and 
intelligible to us, all of it capable of being understood and 
investigated by the human mind, not as an abstraction 
or dream-like entity whose appearances are deceptive. 
Our senses do not deceive us ; their testimony is true as 
far as it goes. I have learned to believe in Intelligibility,/ 

Next, that everything, every single thing, has many 
aspects. Even such a thing as water, for instance. Water, 
regarded by the chemist, is an assemblage or aggregate of 
complex molecules ; regarded by the meteorologist and 
physiographer, it is an element of singular and vitally 
important properties ; every poet has treated of some 
aspect of beauty exhibited by this common substance ; 
while to the citizen it is an ordinary need of daily life. All 
the aspects together do not exhaust the subject, but each 
of them is real. The properties of matter of which our 
senses tell us, or enable us to inquire into in laboratories, 
are true properties, real and true. They are not the 
whole truth, a great deal more is known about them by 
men of science, but the more complex truths do not make 
the simpler ones false. Moreover, we must admit that the 
whole truth about the simplest thing is assuredly beyond 
us ; the Thing-in-itself is related to the whole universe, and 
in its fullness is incomprehensible. 

Furthermore, I have learned that while positive 
assertions on any given subject are often true, error creeps 
in when simple aspects are denied in order to emphasise 
the more complex, or vice versa. A trigonometrical sine, 
for instance, may be expressed in terms of imaginary 
exponentials in a way familiar to all mathematical 
students ; also as an infinite series of fractions with in- 
creasing factorials in the denominators ; also in a number 
of other true and legitimate and useful ways ; but the 
simple geometrical definition, by aid of the chord of a 
circle or the string of a bow, survives them all, and is true 

So it is, I venture to say, with the concept God. 

It can be regarded from some absolute and transcen- 
dental standpoint which humanity can only pretend to 
attain to. It can be regarded as the highest and best idea 
which the human mind has as yet been able to form. It 
can be regarded as dominating and including all existence, 


and as synonymous with all existence when that is made 
sufficiently comprehensive. All these views are legitimate, 
but they are not final or complete. God can also be re- 
presented by some of the attributes of humanity, and can 
be depicted as a powerful and loving Friend with whom our 
spirits may commune at every hour of the day, one whose 
patience and wisdom and long-suffering and beneficence 
are never exhausted. He can, in fact, be regarded as 
displayed to us, in such fashion as we can make use of, in 
the person of an incarnate Being who came for the express 
purpose of revealing to man such attributes of deity as 
would otherwise have been missed. 

The images are not mutually exclusive, they may all be 
in some sort true. None of them is complete. They are 
all aspects partly true and partly false as conceived by 
any individual, but capable of being expressed so as to be, 
as far as they go, true. 

Undoubtedly the Christian idea of God is the simple 
one. Overpoweringly and appallingly simple is the notion 
presented to us by the orthodox Christian Churches : 

A babe born of poor parents, born in a stable among 
cattle because there was no room for them in the village 
inn no room for them in the inn what a master touch ! 
Revealed to shepherds. Religious people inattentive. 
Royalty ignorant, or bent on massacre. A glimmering 
perception, according to one noble legend, attained in the 
Far East where also similar occurrences have been 
narrated. Then the child growing into a peasant youth, 
brought up to a trade. At length a few years of itinerant 
preaching ; flashes of miraculous power and insight. And 
then a swift end : set upon by the religious people ; bis 
followers overawed and scattered, himself tried as a 
blasphemer, flogged, and finally tortured to death. 

Simplicity most thorough and most strange ! In itself it 
is not unique ; such occurrences seem inevitable to highest 
humanity in an unregenerate world ; but who, without in- 
spiration, would see in them a revelation of the nature of 
God ? The life of Buddha, the life of Joan of Arc, are not 
thus regarded. Yet the Christian revelation is clear enough 
and true enough if our eyes are open, and if we care to read 
and accept the simple record which, whatever its historical 
value, is all that has been handed down to us. 


Critics often object that there have been other at- 
tempted Messiahs, that the ancient world was expectant 
of a Divine Incarnation. True enough. But what then ? 
We need not be afraid of an idea because it has several times 
striven to make itself appreciated. It is foolish to decline 
a revelation because it has been more than once offered to 
humanity. Every great revelation is likely to have been 
foreshadowed in more or less imperfect forms, so as to pre- 
pare our minds and make ready the way for complete per- 
ception hereafter. It is probable that the human race is 
quite incompetent to receive a really great idea the first 
time it is offered. There must be many failures to effect 
an entrance before the final success, many struggles to 
overcome natural obstacles and submerge the stony pro- 
ducts of human stolidity. Lapse of time for preparation 
is required before anything great can be permanently 
accomplished, and repeated attempts are necessary ; but 
the tide of general progress is rising all the time. The 
idea is well expressed in Clough's familiar lines : 

" For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, 

Seem here no painful inch to gain, 
Far back, through creeks and inlets making, 
Comes silent, flooding in, the main." 

So it was with the idea of the Messiah which was abroad 
in the land, and had been for centuries, before Christ's 
coming ; and never has he been really recognised by more 
than a few. Dare we not say that he is more truly recog- 
nised now than in any previous age in the history of the 
Church except perhaps the very earliest ? And I doubl 
if we need make that exception. 

The idea of his Messiahship gradually dawned upoi 
him, and he made no mistake as to his mission : 

The word which ye hear is not mine, but the Father's 

who sent me. 

As the Father gave me commandment, even so I do. 
The words which I say unto you I speak not of myself 

the Father which dwelleth in me, he doeth the 

\ The Father is greater than I. 

But, for all that, 

He that hath seen me hath seen the Father. 


Yes, truly, Christ was a planetary manifestation of 
Deity, a revelation to the human race, the highest and sim- 
plest it has yet had ; a revelation in the only form accessible 
to man, a revelation in the full-bodied form of humanity. 

Little conception had they in those days of the whole 
universe as we know it now. The earth was the whole 
world to them, and that which revealed God to the earth 
was naturally regarded as the whole Cosmic Deity. Yet 
it was a truly divine Incarnation. 

A deity of some kind is common to every branch of the 
human race. It seems to be possessed by every savage, 
overawed as he necessarily is by the forces of nature. Ca- 
price, jealousy, openness to flattery and rewards, are likewise 
parts of early theology. Then in the gods of Olympus 
that poetic conception which rose to such heights and fell 
to such depths at different epochs in the ancient world the 
attributes of power and beauty were specially emphasised. 
Power is common to all deities, and favouritism in its use 
seems also a natural supposition to early tribes ; but the 
element of Beauty, as a divine attribute, we in these islands, 
save for the poets, have largely lost or forgotten to our 
great detriment. In Jehovah, however, the Hebrew race 
rose to a conception of divine Righteousness which we have 
assimilated and permanently retained ; and upon that 
foundation Christianity was grafted. It was to a race who 
had risen thus far a race with a genius for theology that 
the Christian revelation came. It was rendered possible, 
though only just possible, by the stage attained. Simple 
and unknown folk were ready to receive it, or, at least, 
were willing to take the first steps to learn. 

The power, the righteousness, and other worthy attri- 
butes belonging to Jehovah, were known of old. The 
Christian conception takes them for granted, and concen- 
trates attention on the pity, the love, the friendliness, the 
compassion, the earnest desire to help mankind attributes 
which, though now and again dimly discerned by one or 
another of the great seers of old, had not yet been thrown 
into concrete form. 

People sometimes seek to deny such attributes as are 
connoted by the word ' Personality ' in the Godhead they 
say it is a human conception. Certainly it is a human con- 


ception ; it is through humanity that it has been revealed. 
Why seek to deny it ? God transcends personality, objec- 
tors say. By all means : transcends all our conceptions 
infinitely, transcends every revelation which has ever been 
vouchsafed ; but the revelations are true as far as they go, 
for all that. ' 

Let us not befog ourselves by attempting impossible 
conceptions to such an extent that we lose the simple and 
manifest reality. No conception that we can make is too 
high, too good, too worthy. It is easy to imagine ourselves 
mistaken, but never because ideas are too high or too good. 
It were preposterous to imagine an over-lofty conception in 
a creature. Reality is always found to exceed our clear 
conception of it ; never once in science has it permanently 
fallen short. No conception is too great or too high. 
But also no devout conception is too simple, too 
lowly, too childlike to have an element some grain 
of vital truth stored away, a mustard seed ready to 
germinate and bud, a leaven which may permeate the 
whole mass. 

I would apply all this to what for brevity may be called 
Human Immortality. It is possible to think of that rather 
simply ; and, on the other hand, it is possible to confuse 
ourselves with tortuous thoughts till it seems unreal and 
impossible. It is part of the problem of personality and 
individuality ; for the question of how far these are de 
pendent on the bodily organism, or whether they can exist 
without it, is a scientific question. It is open to research. 
And yet it is connected /with Christianity ; for undoubt- 
edly the Christian idea of God involves a belief in human 
immortality. If per impossibile this latter could be authori- 
tatively denied, a paralysing blow would have been struck 
at the Christian idea. On the other hand, if by scientific 
investigation the persistence of individual memory and 
character were proved, a great step in the direction of 
orthodox theology would have been taken. 

The modern superstition about the universe is that, 
being suffused with law and order, it contains nothing 
personal, nothing indeterminate, nothing unforeseen ; that 
there is no room for the free activity of intelligent beings, 
that everything is mechanically determined ; so that given 
the velocity and acceleration and position of every atom 


at any instant, the whole future could be unravelled by 
sufficient mathematical power. 

The doctrines of Uniformity and Determinism are sup- 
posed to be based upon experience. But experience in- 
cludes experience of the actions of human beings ; and 
some of them certainly appear to be of a capricious and 
undetermined character. Or without considering human 
beings, watch the orbits of a group of flies as they play ; 
they are manifestly not controlled completely by mech- 
anical laws as are the motions of the planets. The 
simplest view of their activity is that it is self-determined, 
that they are flying about at their own will, and turning 
when and where they choose. The conservation of 
energy has nothing to say against it. Here we see free- 
will in its simplest form. To suppose anything else in 
such a case, to suppose that every twist could have been 
predicted through all eternity, is to introduce praeter- 
natural complexity, and is quite unnecessary. 

Why not assume, what is manifestly the truth, that 
free-will exists and has to be reckoned with, that the 
universe is not a machine subject to outside forces, but a 
living organism with initiations of its own ; and that the 
laws which govern it, though they include mechanical 
and physical and chemical laws, are not limited to those, 
but involve other and higher abstractions, which may 
perhaps some day be formulated, for life and mind and 
spirit ? 

If it be said that free-will can be granted to deity but 
to nothing lower, inasmuch as the Deity must be aware 
of all that is going to happen, I reply that you are now 
making a hypothesis of a complicated kind, and going 
beyond knowledge into speculation. But if still the 
speculation appears reasonable, that only the Deity can 
be endowed with free-will, it merely opens the question, 
What shall be included in that term ? If freedom is the 
characteristic mark of deity, then those are justified who 
have taught that every fragment of mind and will is 
a contributory element in the essence of the Divine 

How, then, can we conceive of deity ? The analogy 
of the human body and its relation to the white corpuscles 
in its blood is instructive. Each corpuscle is a living 


creature endowed with the powers of locomotion, of 
assimilation, and, under certain conditions now being 
inquired into, of reproduction by fission. The health and 
polity of the body are largely dependent on the activity 
of these phagocytes. They are to us extremely important; 
they axe an essential part of our being.,* 

But now suppose one of these corpuscles endowed 
with intelligence what conception of the universe 
will it be able to form ? It may examine its sur- 
roundings, discourse of the vessels through which it 
passes, of the adventures it encounters ; and if philosophi- 
cally minded, it may speculate on a being of which perhaps 
it and all its like form a part an immanent deity, whose 
constituents they are, a being which includes them and 
includes all else which they know or can imagine a being 
to whose existence they contribute, and whose purposes 
they serve or share. So far they could speculate, and so 
far they would be right. But if they proceeded further, 
and entered on negations, if they surmised that that 
immanent aspect of the universe in which they lived and 
moved and had their being was the sole and only aspect, 
if they surmised that there was no personality, no feeling, 
no locomotion, no mind, no purpose, apart from them and 
their kind, they would greatly err. What conception 
could they ever form of the manifold interests and activi- 
ties of man ? Still less of the universe known to man, of 
which he himself forms so trivial a portion. 

All analogies fail at some point, but they are a help 
nevertheless, and this analogy will bear pressing rather far. 
We ourselves are a part of the agencies for good or evil ; 
we have the power to help or to hinder, to mend or to mar, 
within the scope of our activity. Our help is asked for ; 
lowly as we are, it is really wanted, on the earth here and 
now, just as much wanted as our body needs the help of 
its lowly white corpuscles to contribute to health, to 
attack disease, to maintain the normal and healthy life of 
the organism. We are the white corpuscles of the cosmos, 
we serve and form part of an immanent Deity. 

Truly it is no easy service to which we are called ; 
something of the wisdom of the serpent must enter into 
our activities ; sanity and moral dignity and sound sense 
must govern our proceedings ; all our powers must be 


called out, and there must be no sluggishness. Impulses, 
even good impulses, alone are not sufficient ; every 
faculty of the human brain must be exerted, and we must 
be continually on guard against the flabbiness of mere good 

Our activity and service are thus an integral part of 
the Divine Existence, which likewise includes that of all 
the perceptible universe. But to suppose that this 
exhausts the matter, and that the Deity has no trans- 
cendent Existence of which we can form no idea, to 
suppose that what happens is not the result of his dominant 
and controlling Personality, is to step beyond legitimate 
inference, and to treat appearance as exhaustive of reality. 

Always mistrust negations. They commonly signify 
blindness and prejudice except when thoroughly estab- 
lished and carefully formulated in the light of actual 
experience or mathematical proof. And even then we 
should be ready to admit the possibility of higher 
generalisations which may uproot them. They are 
only safe when thrown into the form of a positive 

The impossibility of squaring the circle is not really a 
negative proposition, except in form. It is safer and 
more convincing when thrown into the positive and 
definite form that the ratio of area to diameter is in- 
commensurable. That statement is perfectly clear and 
legitimate ; and the illustration may be used as a parable. 
A positive form should be demanded of every compre- 
hensive denial ; and whatever cannot be thrown into 
positive form, it is wise to mistrust. Its promulgator is 
probably stepping out of bounds, into the cheap and easy 
region of negative speculation. He is like a rationalistic 
microbe denying the existence of a human being. 

I have urged that the simple aspect of things is to be 
considered and not despised ; but, for the majority of 
people, is not the tendency the other way ? Are they 
not too much given to suppose the Universe limited to the 
simplicity of their first and everyday conception of it ? 
The stockbroker has his idea of the totality of things ; 
the navvy has his. Students of mathematical physics 
are liable to think of it as a determinate assemblage of 
atoms and ether, with no room for spiritual entities no 


room, as my brilliant teacher, W. K. Clifford, expressed 
it, no room for ghosts. / 

Biological students are apt to think of life as a physico- 
chemical process of protoplasmic structure and cell organi- 
sation, with consciousness as an epiphenomenon. They 
watch the lowly stages of animal organisms, and hope to 
imitate their behaviour by judicious treatment of in- 
organic materials. By all means let them try ; the effort 
is entirely legitimate, and not unhopeful. That which 
has come into being in the past may come into being under 
observation in the present, and the intelligence and co- 
operation of man may help. Why not ? The material 
vehicle would thus have been provided in this case, 
without doubt, purposely and designedly for some 
incipient phase of life. But would that in the least 
explain the nature of life and mind and will, and reduce 
them to simple atomic mechanism and dynamics ? Not 
a whit. The real nature of these things would remain 
an unanswered question. 

During the past century progress has lain chiefly in the 
domain of the mechanical and material. The progress 
has been admirable, and has led to natural rejoicing and 
legitimate pride. It has also led to a supposition that all 
possible scientific advance lies in this same direction, or 
even that all the great fundamental discoveries have now 
been made ! Discovery proceeds by stages, and enthusi- 
asm at the acquisition of a step or a landing-place obscures 
for a time our perception of the flight of stairs immediately 
ahead ; but it is rational to take a more comprehensive 

Part of our experience is the connexion of spirit with 
matter. We are conscious of our own identity, our own 
mind and purpose and will : we are also conscious of the 
matter in which it fa at present incarnate and manifested. 
Let us use these experiences and learn from them. In- 
carnation is a fact ; we are not matter, yet we utilise it. 
Through the mechanism of the brain we can influence the 
material world ; we are in it, but not of it ; we transcend 
it by our consciousness. The body is our machine, our 
instrument, our vehicle of manifestation ; and through it 
we can achieve results in the material sphere. Why seek 
to deny either the spiritual or the material ? Both are 


real, both are true. In some higher mind, perhaps, they 
may be unified : meanwhile we do not possess this higher 
mind. Scientific progress is made by accepting realities 
and learning from them ; the rest is speculation. It is not 
likely that we are the only intelligent beings in the Uni- 
verse. There may be many higher grades, up to the 
Divine ; just as there are lower grades, down to the 
amoeba. Nor need all these grades of intelligence be 
clothed in matter or inhabit the surface of a planet. That 
is the kind of existence with which we are now familiar, 
truly, and anything beyond that is for the most part 
supersensuous ; but our senses are confessedly limited, 
and if there is any truth in the doctrine of human im- 
mortality the existence of myriads of departed individuals 
must be assumed, on what has been called " the other 

But how are we to get evidence in favour of such an 
apparently gratuitous hypothesis ? Well, speaking for 
myself and with full and cautious responsibility, I have to 
state that as an outcome of my investigation into psychical 
matters I have at length and quite gradually become con- 
vinced, after more than thirty years of study, not only 
that persistent individual existence is a fact, but that 
occasional communication across the chasm with diffi- 
culty and under definite conditions is possible. 

This is not a subject on which one comes lightly and 
easily to a conclusion, nor can the evidence be explained 
except to those who will give to it time and careful study ; 
but clearly the conclusion is either folly and self-deception, 
or it is a truth of the utmost importance to humanity and 
of importance to us in connexion with our present subject. 
For it is a conclusion which cannot stand alone. Mis- 
taken or true, it affords a foothold for a whole range of 
other thoughts, other conclusions, other ideas : false and 
misleading if the foothold is insecure, worthy of attention 
if the foothold is sound. Let posterity judge. 

Meanwhile it is a subject that attracts cranks and 
charlatans. Rash opinions are freely expressed on 
both sides. I call upon the educated of the younger 
generation to refrain from accepting assertions without 
severe scrutiny, and, above all, to keep an open 


If departed human beings can communicate with us, 
can advise us and help us, can have any influence on our 
actions, then clearly the doors are open to a wealth 
of spiritual intercourse beyond what we have yet 

The region of the miraculous, it is called, and the bare 
possibility of its existence has been hastily and illegiti- 
mately denied. But so long as we do not imagine it to be 
a region denuded of a law and order of its own, akin to the 
law and order of the psychological realm, our denial has 
no foundation. The existence of such a region may be 
established by experience ; its non-existence cannot be 
established ; for non-experience might merely mean that 
owing to deficiencies of our sense organs it was beyond 
our ken. In judging of what are called miracles we must 
be guided by historical evidence and literary criticism. 
We need not urge a priori objections to them on scientific 
grounds. They need be no more impossible, no more 
lawless, than the interference of a human being would 
seem to a colony of ants or bees. 

The Christian idea of God certainly has involved, and 
presumably always will involve, an element of the miracu- 
lous, a flooding of human life with influences which lie 
outside it, a controlling of human destiny by higher and 
beneficent agencies. By evil agencies too ? Yes, the influ- 
ences are not all on one side ; but the Christian faith is 
that the good are the stronger. Experience has shown to 
many a saint, however tormented by evil, that appeal to 
the powers of good can result in ultimate victory. Let us 
not reject experience on the ground of dogmatic assertion 
and baseless speculation. 

Historical records tell us of a Divine Incarnation. We 
may consider it freely on historical grounds. We are not 
debarred from contemplating such a thing by anything 
that science has to say to the contrary. Science does not 
speak directly on the subject. If the historical evidence 
is good we may credit it, just as we may credit the 
hypothesis of survival if the present-day evidence is good. 
It sounds too simple and popular an explanation too 
much like the kind of ideas suited to unsophisticated man 
and to the infancy of the race. True ; but has it not 
happened often in the history of science that reality has 


been found simpler than our attempted conception of it ? 
Electricity long ago was often treated as a fluid ; and a 
little time ago it was customary to jeer at the expression 
legitimate in the mouth of Benjamin Franklin, but 
now apparently outgrown. And yet what else is the 
crowd of mobile electrons, postulated by [not] the very 
latest theory, in a metal ? Surely it is in some sense a 
fluid, though not a material one ? The guess was not so 
far wrong after all. Meanwhile we learned to treat it by 
mathematical devices, vector potential, and other recon- 
dite methods. With great veneration I speak of the 
mathematical physicists of the past century. They have 
been almost superhuman in power, and have attained 
extraordinary results, but in time the process of discovery 
will enable mankind to apprehend all these things more 
simply. Progress lies in simple investigation as well as 
in speculation and thought up to the limits of human 
power ; and when things are really understood, they are 
perceived to be fairly simple after all. 

So it seems likely to be with a future state, or our own 
permanent existence ; it has been thought of and spoken 
of as if it were altogether transcendental something 
beyond space and time (as it may be), something outside 
and beyond all conception. But it is not necessarily so 
at all ; it is a question of fact ; it is open to investigation. 
I find part of it turning out quite reasonably simple ; not 
easy to grasp or express, for lack of experience and 
language that is true, but not by any means conveving 
a feeling of immediate vast difference and change. Some- 
thing much more like terrestrial existence, at least on one 
aspect of it, than we had imagined. Not as a rule associ- 
ated with matter ; no, but perhaps associated with ether 
an ethereal body instead of a material one ; certainly 
a body, or mode of manifestation, of some kind. It 
appears to be a state which leaves personality and char- 
acter and intelligence much where it was. No sudden 
jump into something supernal, but steady and continued 
progress. Many activities and interests beyond our 
present ken, but with a surviving terrestrial aspect, 
occasionally accessible, and showing interest in the doings 
of those on earth, together with great desire to help and 
to encourage all efforts for the welfare of the race. We 


need not search after something so far removed from 
humanity as to be unintelligible. 

So likewise with the idea of God. 

No matter how complex and transcendentally vast the 
Reality must be, the Christian conception of God is 
humanly simple. It appeals to the unlettered and 
ignorant ; it appeals to " babes." 

That is the way with the greatest things. The sun is 
the centre of the solar system, a glorious object full of 
mystery and unknown forces, but the sunshine is a friendly 
and homely thing, which shines in at a cottage window, 
touches common objects with radiance, and brings warmth 
and comfort even to the cat. 

The sunshine is not the sun, but it is the human and 
terrestrial aspect of the sun ; it is that which matters in 
daily life. It is independent of study and discovery ; it 
is given us by direct experience, and for ordinary life it 

Thus would I represent the Christian conception of 
God. Christ is the human and practical and workaday 
aspect. Christ is the sunshine that* fraction of tran- 
scendental Cosmic Deity which suffices for the earth. Jesus 
of Nazareth is plainly a terrestrial heritage. His advent 
is the glory, His reception the shame, of the human race. 

Once more, then. Although there may be undue 
simplification of the complex, there is also an undue com- 
plication of the simple ; it is easy to invent unnecessary 
problems, to manufacture gratuitous difficulties, to lose 
our way in a humanly constructed and quite undivine 
fog. But the way is really simple, and when the fog lifts 
and the sunshine appears, all becomes clear and we pro- 
ceed without effort on our way : the wayfaring man, though 
a fool, need not err therein. The way, the truth, and the 
life are all one. Reality is always simple ; it is concrete 
and real and expressible. Our customary view of the 
commonest objects is not indeed the last word, nay, rather, 
it is the first word, as to their nature ; but it is a true 
word as far as it goes. Analysing a liquid into a congeries 
of discrete atoms does not destroy or weaken or interfere 
with its property of fluidity. Analysing an atom into 


electrons does not destroy the atom. Reducing matter to 
electricity, or to any other ethereal substratum, does not 
alter the known and familiarly utilised properties of a bit 
of wood or iron or glass, in the least ; no, nor of a bit of 
bone or feather or flesh. Study may superadd properties 
imperceptible to the plain man, but the plain man's con- 
crete and simple view serves for ordinary purposes of 
daily life. 

And God's view, strange to say, must be more akin to 
that of the plain man than to that of the philosopher or 
statistician. That is how it comes that children are near 
the kingdom of heaven. It is not likely that God really 
makes abstractions and " geometrises." All those higher 
and elaborate modes of expression are human counters ; 
and the difficulties of dealing with them are human too. 
Only in early stages do things require superhuman power 
for their apprehension ; they are easy to grasp when they 
are really understood. They come out then into daily 
life ; they are not then matters of intellectual strain ; 
they can appeal to our sense of beauty ; they can affect 
us with emotion and love and appreciation and joy ; they 
can enter into poetry and music, and constitute the sub- 
ject-matter of Art of all kinds. The range of art and of 
enjoyment must increase infinitely with perfect knowledge. 
This is the atmosphere of God : " Where dwells enjoy- 
ment, there is He." We are struggling upwards into 
that atmosphere slowly and laboriously. The struggle is 
human, and for us quite necessary, but the mountain top 
is serene and pure and lovely, and its beauty is in nowise 
enhanced by the efforts of the exhausted climber, as he 
slowly wins his way thither. 

Yet the effort itself is of value. The climber, too, is 
part of the scheme, and his upward trend may be growth 
and gain to the whole. It adds interest, though not 
beauty. Do not let us think that the universe is 
stagnant and fixed and settled and dull, and that all 
its appearance of " going on " is illusion and deception. 
I would even venture to urge that, ever since the grant to 
living creatures of free will, there must be, in some sense 
or other, a real element of contingency, that there is no 
dullness about it, evfcn to the Deity, but a constant and 
aspiring Effort. 


Let us trust our experience in this also. The Universe 
is a flux, it is a becoming, it is a progress. Evolution is 
a reality. True and not imaginary progress is possible. 
Effort is not a sham. Existence is a true adventure. 
There is a real risk. 

There was a real risk about creation directly it went 
beyond the inert and mechanical. The granting of choice 
and free will involved a risk. Thenceforward things could 
go wrong. They might be kept right by main force, but 
that would not be playing the game, that would not be 
loyalty to the conditions. 

As William James says : A football team desire to get 
a ball to a certain spot, but that is not all they desire ; 
they wish to do it under certain conditions and overcome 
inherent difficulties else might they get up in the night 
and put it there. 

So also we may say, Good is the end and aim of the 
Divine Being ; but not without conditions. Not by com- 
pulsion. Perfection as of machinery would be too dull 
and low an achievement something much higher is 
sought. The creation of free creatures who, in so far as 
they go right, do so because they will, not because they 
must, that was the Divine problem, and it is the highest 
of which we have any conception. 

Yes, there was a real risk in making a human race on 
this planet. Ultimate good was not guaranteed. Some 
parts of the Universe must be far better than this, but 
some may be worse. Some planets may comparatively 
faftl. The power of evil may here and there get the 
u^per hand : although it must ultimately lead to 
suicidal destructive failure, for evil is pregnant with 

This planet is surely not going to fail. Its destinies 
have been more and more entrusted to us. For millions 
of years it laboured, - and now it has produced a human 
race a late-comer to the planet, only recently arrived, 
only partly civilised as yet. But already it has produced 
Plato and Newton and Shakespeare ; yes, and it has been 
the dwelling-place of Christ. Surely it is going to succeed, 
and in good time to be the theatre of such a magnificent 
development of human energy and power and joy as to 
compensate, and more than compensate, for all the pain 


and suffering, all the blood and tears, which have gone to 
prepare the way. 

The struggle is a real one. The effort is not confined 
to humanity alone : according to the Christian concep- 
tion God has shared in it. " God so loved the world that 
He gave " we know the text. The earth's case was noj 
hopeless ; the world was bad, but it could be redeemed; 
and the redemption was worth the painful effort which 
then was undergone, and which the disciples of the Cross 
have since in their measure shared. Aye, that is the Chris- 
tian conception ; not of a God apart from His creatures, 
looking on, taking no personal interest in their behaviour, 
sitting aloof only to judge them ; but One who anxiously 
takes measures for their betterment, takes trouble, takes 
pains a pregnant phrase, takes pains, One who suffers 
when they go wrong, One who feels painfully the miseries 
and wrongdoings and sins and cruelties of the creatures 
whom He has endowed with free will ; One who actively 
enters into the storm and the conflict ; One who actually 
took flesh and dwelt among us, to save us from the slough 
into which we might have fallen, to show us what the 
beauty and dignity of man might be. 

Well, it is a great idea, a great and simple idea, so 
simple as to be incredible to some minds. It has been 
hidden from many of the wise and prudent ; it has been 
revealed to babes. 

To sum up : Let us not be discouraged by simplicity. 
Real things are simple. Human conceptions are not 
altogether misleading. Our view of the Universe is a 
partial one but is not an untrue one. Our knowledge of 
the conditions of existence is not altogether false only 
inadequate. The Christian idea of God is a genuine re- 
presentation of reality. 

Nor let us imagine that existence hereafter, removed 
from these atoms of matter which now both confuse and 
manifest it, will be something so wholly remote and 
different as to be unimaginable ; but let us learn by the 
testimony of experience either our own or that of others 
that those who have been, still are ; that they care for 
us and help us ; that they, too, are progressing and 
learning and working and hoping ; that there are grades 


of existence, stretching upward and upward to all eternity ; 
and that God Himself, through His agents and messengers, 
is continually striving and working and planning, so as 
to bring this creation of His through its preparatory 
labour and pain, and lead it on to an existence higher and 
better than anything we have ever known. 


Abstraction, 370, 372, 380 

Abt Voglcr, 297, 370 

Acorn, 290 

Acquired characters, Inheritance of, 

323, 324 

Acrostic, 19, 21, 25, 145 
Adonis, 304 
Mneid, 14, 317, 319 
Aeroplane, 142 
Agents, 291, 371, 386, 396 
Alec, 35, 46, 53, 70, 71, 120, 146, 147, 

157, 162, 193, 202, 208, 224, 271, 

272, 276 
Amoeba, 389 
Animation of Matter, 363 
Anonymity, 96, 117, 128, 129, 180, 

202, 240, 247 

Anticipation and Reality, 303,384,386 
Argonauts, 153, 155, 211, 250, 274 
Army officers, 53 
Arnold, Sir Edwin, 302, 322 
Art, 393 
Aspasia, 13 
Asquith, Mr., 55 
Atheism, 370 
Atomic Theory, 288 
Atonement, 178, 249, 395 
Attacks, 52, 53 
Aunt Anne, 175 
Aunt Jennie, 203 
Australia, 9, 117, 149 
Automatic Writing, 86, 90, 94, 117, 

118, 119, 120, 123, 124, 205, 206, 

207, 225, 350, 352, 355 

Bacon, Lord, 378 
Bailey, 61 

Balfour, Rt. Hon. G. W., 283 
Banks, Mitchell, 155 
Barbara, 38, 1 12, 145, 223 
Barrett, Sir W. F., 86 
Bayfield, Rev. M. A., 92 
Beads on string, 288 

Bean, Jumping, 289, 293, 369 

Beauty, 305, 383, 393 

Bedales, 4, 136 

Beehive, 291 

Belgian stove, 44 

Belgium, 25, 39 

Bereavement, 47, 102, 342, 374 

Bergson, Professor, 191, 333, 340, 


Biddy, 168 

Bill, Brother. See William 
Birmingham, 133 
Birthday, 212, 235 
Boast, Captain S. T., 77, 108, no, 

112, 113 
Body, 194, 195, 235, 305, 313, 318, 

319, 320, 323, 388, 391 
Body and Mind, 328, 330 
Books, 5, 132, 209 
Boy at organ, 373 
Brain, Function of, 340 
Bricklaying, 34 
Bridging the chasm, 83, 389 
Briscoe, A. E., 109, in 
British Warm, 19 
Brittain, Mrs., 161 
Brodie(B.), 208, 214 
Brothers, Two, 200, 210 
Browne, Sir James Cnchton, 291 
Browning, I, 297, 370, 393 
Buddha, 381 
Burial, 48, 50, 65, 235 
Burial, Care taken in, 68 
Burlton, Lieut., 53 

Calamity, 322 

Calendar of Photograph, 115 

Cambridge, 286 

Card, Memorial, 12 

Case, Lieut., 42, 75, 76, 77i "4 

141, 279 
Caton, Dr., 155 
Cavalry officers, 54 



Change of Conditions, 306 
Charlatans, 389 
Chasm bridging, 83, 389 
Chateau, 25, 26, 27, 66 
Cheerfulness, 36, 42, 50, 59, 70, 71, 

98, 99, 126, 127, 159, 187, 204 
Chemistry, 100, 133, 288 
Chemistry and Physics, 370 
Cheves, Captain, 78, 106, 206 
Childhood, 5, 8 
Christian claim, 85 
Christianity, 178, 232, 376, 381, 383, 

392, 395 

Christmas, 188, 190, 205, 207, 218 
Christopher Sonnenschein, 240, 247 
Clairvoyance, 86, 129 
Clegg, Mrs., 237, 239, 241, 243, 253 
Clifford, W. K., 388 
Clothes, 189, 197, 199 
Clough, A. H., 382 
Code signalling, 362 
Coleridge, 304 
Columbus, 367 

Coming down hill, 154, 155, 156 
Common-sense explanations, 348, 369 
Communicating, Instruction in, 165 
Communication, 389 
Communicator, 87, 171, 358 
Coniston, 52, 155 
Consciousness, 330, 332, 333 
Conservation, 290 
Constructive ability, 290, 291, 336 
Contingency, 289, 312, 385, 393, 394 
Continuity, 335, 391 
Control, 86, 103, 163, 167, 170, 171, 

183, 238, 241, 357, 358, 360 
Control, Method, 126 
Cooking, 28 
I Corinthians i. 26, 368 
Corpuscles (white), 385, 386 
Cotton, Colonel, 53 
Covering Party, 68 
Creatures, Living, 304 
Crookes, Sir William, 170, 342 
Cross, Falling, 99, 128 
Cross-correspondence, 135, 159, 160, 

172, 182, 189, 190, 241, 242, 253 
Crystal and Organism, 293 
Curly, 203, 273i 278 

Dallas, Miss H, A., 86 
Damp, 62, 70 
Darlington, 240, 247 
Dartmoor, 154, 155, 21 1, 214 
Darwin, 310, 335 
Darwin and Mendel, 285 

Dead Matter, 289 

Deakin, The Hon. Mr. Alfred, 360 

Death, 6, 103, 126, 127, 134, 183, 

202, 249, 294, 295, 296, 298, 300, 

3<tf 313 
Decay, 303 
Depression, 48, 203 
Design, 317, 393 
Determinism, 385, 394 
Diary, 31, 108, in, 115, 116, 148 
Dickebusch, 21, 75 
Digging, 36, 44 
Diotima, 83 

Direct Voice, 193, 201, 365 
Direct Writing, 365 
Dog, 79, 154, 203, 273, 278 
Dogmatism, 314 
Dowsing, 363 
Dream, 31, 34, 35 
Dualism, 284, 320 
Dug-outs, 33, 53, 57 
Dvinsk, 130 
Dynamics 286 

E. A. Episode, 243, 244, 245, 267, 270 

Ecclesiastes, 92 

Eclipse, Solar, 369 

Edinburgh, 3, 10, 45, 52 

Effort, Real, 393, 395 

Eggs and bacon, 67} 

Egyptian tombs, 302 

Electric charge, 290 

Electricity, 286, 290, 375, 391 

Electricity, Modern views on, 373 

Electrons, 391 

Elusiveness, 319 

Emotion, Conveyance of, 220, 221, 

222, 278, 363 

Energy, Directed, 138, 144, 151, 291 
Engineering, 3, 9, 29, 240 
Enjoyment, 393 
Enquiry, 313, 314 
Enquiry, Free, 378 
Enteric, 25, 46 
Entry in Diary, 31, 108, in, 115, 

116, 148 

Epiphenomenon, 283, 388 
Ether, 286, 298, 318, 319, 336, 339, 

375, 39i 

Ether of Space, The, 319 
Etherial body, 319, 336 
Evidence, 115, 151, 159, 201, 308, 

3?4, 373 

Evil, 230, 353, 390, 394 
Evolution, 292, 336 
Exclusion, 372, 379 



Exposure, 62, 70 
Extrapolation, 284, 286 

Facts, 287, 288, 308, 310, 314 

Faith, 367 

Falling Cross, 99, 128 

Faunus, 104, 315 

Faunus message, 90 

Fear, 126, 132, 168, 174, 175, 300 

Feda, 98, 120, 121, 125, 180, 191, 

192, 213, 236, 260, 261 
Ferry, 154, 156, 157 
Fiacre, 55 
Fiddler, 46 
Finding people, 254 
Finger of God, 370 
Fire-fly, 290 
Fitzgerald, 305 
Fletcher, Lieut., 17, 22, 23, 31, 32, 

33, 36, 37, 38, 39, 4i, 42, 43, 49, 

5*. 75, 77 

Flopping about, 239, 242 
Flowers, 227, 235, 258, 269 
Foster, Sir Michael, 368 
Franklin, Benjamin, 391 
Freedom, 289, 384, 394, 395 
Free enquiry, 378 
Free-will, 289, 315, 333, 385 
Future, 313 

Gale & Polden, 1 12, 113, 279 

Gardener, 255, 256 

Gas, 30, 47, 49 

Gow, Mr., in 

Grades of Being, 375, 389, 396 

Grades of Existence, 389, 395 

Grandfather W., 121, 122, 127, 143, 

159, 181, 184, 209 
Granny, 121, 165 
Grave, 78, 298, 302, 304 
Gray, 6 1, 67, 76 
Greece, 185 
Greenbank, 8 
Gregory, R. A., 338 
Grove Park, 5, 135, 145 
Gullane, 35, 95 
Gunn, Majone, 58 
Gurney, Edmund, 143, 145 
Guy Le Breton, 122, 123 

Habits, 324 

Haldane, Dr. J. S., 283 

Harborne, 51 

Harris, Professor Fraser, 293, 294 

Hell, 230, 353 

Helmet, German, 64 

Helping, 98, 102, 103, 123, 126, 143, 
150, 160, 166, 178, 185, 226, 232, 
241, 243, 279, 307, 325, 376, 386, 

Herdman, Professor, 295 

Hibbert Journal, 283, 285, 378 

Hill, Coming down, 154, 155, 156 

Hill, Mr. J. Arthur, 86, 101, 109 
in, 174, 260 

Hill 60, 38, 45, 58 

Hockey, 148 

Hodgson, Dr. Richard, 88, 90 

Holden, Mr., 57, 65 

Holt, Alfred, 155 

Homeliness, 184, 336, 337 

Honolulu, 216, 271, 274 

Honor, 112, 122, 186, 194, 219, 222, 
272, 276 

Hooge, 63, 64, 74, 75 

Hope, Anthony, 41 

Horace, 91, 93, 104 

Hospitality, 53 

House-hunting, 56 

Houses, 135, 145, 230 

Humour, 349 

Humour of the life in France, 56 

Hun, 69 

Huxley, 308, 368 

Hyacinthus, 304 

Hypothesis, 287, 288, 389 

Immanence, 386 
Impersonal Memory, 348 
Impersonations, 357 
Impossibility, 387 
Impression, 126, 1 60, 209 
Incarnation, 381, 383, 388, 390 
Individual Case, 84, 85 
Infinitude, 309 
Information got from Sitters, 192, 

196, 199 
Inheritance of acquired characters, 

323, 324 

Inhibition, 138, 340 

Inspection by Army Corps Com- 
mander, 71 

Inspiration, 381 

Instruction in communicating, 165 

Instruments, 320 

Intelligibility, 380 

Interaction, 283, 317, 366, 372 

Intercommunion, 376 

" Irish Eyes," 215 

Italy, 11,43,45, 144, 278 

Jackson, Mr., 256, 258, 278 

400 INDEX 

ames, Professor Wm. , 87, 394 

. K. Episode, 254, 266 

oan of Arc, 381 
J ohnspns, 32 
Jumping bean, 289, 293, 369 

Kelvin, Lord, 286, 375 

Kennedy, Mrs., 96, 97, 117, 120, 

129, 158, 205 
Kitchener, Lord, 55 
Knife-rests, 28 

Langland Bay, 157 

Lankester, Sir E. Ray, 332 

Laplace, 370, 385 

Larry, 79, 154, 278 

Laws, Mr., 17, 21, 23, 39, 42, 43, 


Leave, 52, 54, 55 
Lectures, 43, 265 
Leith, Miss, 70 
Leith, Professor, 24 
Leonard, Mrs. Osborne, 98, IOI, 

106, 118, 121, 365 
Lethe, 327 
Life, 289 

Life and Energy, 290 
Life and Matter, 320 
Light, 286 

Lights, Coloured, 264 
Lights, "Very," 22, 24, 30, 31, 

Lily, 134, 159, 187, 190, 199, 200, 

210, 221, 229, 273 
Limitation of Scope, 341 
Linga, The, 67, 95 
Lionel, 70, 147, 180, 186, 188, 193, 

196, 202, 271, 273 
Liverpool, 3, 10, 135 
Living creatures, 304 
Lodge Brothers, 3, 9, 79 
Lodge Fume Deposit Co., 79 
Longfellow, 306 
Loos, 74 

Lorna, 52, 1 12, 220, 224 
Lusitania y 299, 300 

M.A.Oxon., 350 

Machine Gun, 3, 52, 54, 6l, 66, 73, 

Madame Lc Breton, 97, II9 121, 

123, 135 

Maggie Magee, 215 
Magnetism, 144* 164, 290 
Maps, 251, 252 
Margaret, 45 

Mariemont Sittings, 158, 159, 182, 
190, 194,211,217, 219, 222,273, 
274, 275 

Mariemont, Views of, 224 

Materialisation, 184, 197, 198, 201, 
268, 365 

Materialism, 249, 284, 285, 310 

Mathematical Physics, 286 

Matter, Dead, 289 

Matter and Life, 320 

Maurice, 40, 41, 43, 72 

Maxwell, Clerk, 391 

McCreadie, Miss, 228 

M'Dougal, Professor, 283 

Meagreness of Conceptions, 310 

Mechanics, 289 

Mechanism, 88, 388 

Medium of artist, 88, 320, 339 

Mediums, 118, 128, 330, 358 

Memorial Card, 12 

Memorial Tablet, 7 

Memory, 259, 326, 327, 330, 34*, 357 

Mendel and Darwin, 285 

Menexenus, 13 

Merlin, 93 

Messiah, 376, 382 

Microbe, 387 

Military terms, 41 

Mind and Matter, 291, 339 

Mines, 57, 61 

Miracles, 390 

Missionary spirit. 325 

Missionary zeal, 83 

Mitchell, Capt., 141, 142,146,149,150 

Mitchell, Dr. Chalmers, 333, 334, 


M. N. W,, 228, 229 

Molesworth, 71 

Monism, 284 

Moonstone, 100, 105, 129, 164, 177 

Morris, 6 

Moses, Rev. Stainton, 350 

Motor, Nagant, 277 

Motor-buses, 51, 52, 72 

Motoring, 58, 156 

Motors, 58, 71, 212, 252, 278 

Mott, Dr., 329 

Mud, 17, 20, 184 

Muirhead, Dr. Alex., 170 

Muirhead, Prof. J. H., 337 

Music, 46, 222, 234 

"My Southern Maid," 216 

Myers, 84, 85, 88, 90, 92, 96, 97. 9. 
100, 101, 103, 104, 122, 143, 145, 
159, 169, 177, 201, 203, 206, 234, 
*49 3 12 , 3^6, 336, 362, 367 



Nagant Motor, 275, 277, 278 

Names, 173 

Names, Difficulty in remembering, 


Negations, 379, 387, 390 
Nerve cases, 40 
Newcastle, 145, 220 
Newton, 286, 394 
Nicknames, 148 
Noel, 22, 70, 140, 146, 148, 224, 


Norah, 38, 39, 52, 219, 271, 273 
Norman, 140, 146, 147, 148, 179 
Note-book, 326 
Note-taking, 358 

O'Brien, Sergeant, 33 

Old age, 295 

Olive, Miss, 227, 229, 262, 269 

Oliver, 4, 45, 52, 135 

Olives, 131, 144 

Omniscience, 316 

" Orange Girl, My," 215 

Oratorio, 290 

Orderly, 16, 18, 28, 61, 67, 76 

Organ, Boy at, 373 

Organising power. See Constructive 


Organism and Crystal, 293 
Ouija, 186, 356 
Outlook, 374 

Paraffin, exchange for window, 44 

Partition, 100, 133, 306, 345 

Pat, 140, 148, 161, 223 

Paul Kennedy, 117, 119, 121, 123, 

146, 149, 176, 234, 235, 241 
Peace, 25, 50 

Peacock, 256, 257, 258, 278 
Pedestal, 257, 279 
Penkhull, 8 

Periscope rifle attachments, 62 
Personal possessions, 324 
Personality, 298, 336, 383, 387, 391 
Peters, Mr. A. Vout, 99, 102, 105, 

118, 129, 162, 163, 174, 178, 260 
Phagocytes, 386 
Phinuit, Dr., 129 
Phonograph, 328 
Photograph, 105, 112, 114, 116, 132, 

206, 279 

Photograph, Calendar of, 115 
Photograph, Description of, no 
Physical phenomena, 137, 218, 222, 

224, 277 . 

Physics and Chemistry, 370 


Piddington, Mr., 172 

Piper, Mrs., 87, 90, 94, 95, 129, 228 

Planchette, 356, 362 

Planisphere, 30 

Plato, 13, 394 

Plotinus, 325, 327, 336, 337 

Plumer, Sir Herbert, 71 

Polchet, M., 43, 45, 46, 51 

Policy not philosophy, 284, 285 

Poperinghe, 71 

Prayer, 183, 227, 307, 376 

Prediction. See Prevision 

Prejudice, 379 

Prevision, 35, 130, 185, 312, 314, 

3i5> 3i6, 385 
Primus stove, 1 8, 29, 44 
Prisoners, 47 
Private affairs, 374 
Professional mediums, 118, 128 
Prognostication. Sec Prevision 
Progress, 395 
Protoplasm, 388 
Psychometry, 305, 306 
Purpose, 285 

Questions, Test, 152, 157, 159, 224, 

Ralph, 173, 273, 274 

Raps, 89 

Rathbone, William, 8 

Rats, 28 

Rawnsley, Canon, 12 

Reality and Anticipation, 303, 384, 

Record sleeps, 66, 119, 120, 121, 

123, 145 
Rector, 129 
Red flames, 369 
Red roses, 246, 261 
Redfeather, 166, 235 
Relics, 305, 324 
Reninghelst, 113 
Resurrection, 298, 322, 323 
Revelation, 309, 376, 384 
Reverse, 34 
Riding, 37, 38 
Risk, 394 
Robbins, Mis, 90 
Rocking-horse, 220 
Rods and rings, 251, 253 
Room in Violet's house, 45, 226 
Rosalynde, 109, 112, 145, 272 
Roscoe, Lt. William, 42, 58, 60, 73 
Roses, 46, 47, 246, 261 
Roes, Sir Ronald, 294 

402 INDEX 

Rossctti, 296 

Roumania, 186 

Rowland, 35, 131, 135, 191, 226 

Russell, Bertrand, 315 

Russia, 1 86 

Sacraments, 321 

Sacrifice, 178, 249 

Salter, Captain, 48 

Sand boat, 251, 252, 253, 260 

Satellites of Jupiter, 341 

Sausages, 59, 61, 67 

Schuster, Dr. Aithur, 303, 368, 369 

Science, Men of, 368 

Secondaiy personality, 86, 171, 357 

Selection, 88 

Self-control, 225 

Senses, 380 

Serbia, 186 

Serenading, 46 

Serious messages, 352 

Serious side, II, 233, 234, 259, 263, 


Servants, 16, 18, 28, 61, 67, 76 
Shakespeare, 5, 304, 315, 394 
Shell shock, 329 
Shelley, 5, 81 
Shelling, 3, 32, 60, 62 
Shrapnel, 32, 45, 47 
Sighs, 139, 1 60 
Simplicity, 380, 381, 384, 391, 392, 


Smai, 335 

Singing, 201, 212, 213 
Sitter, 358 
Sitters, Information from, 192, 196, 


Slang, 40 

Sleeps, 66, 119, 120, 121, 123, 145 
Small Heath, 79, 132, 133 
Smyth, Dr. J. Patersun, 344 
Snipers, 48 
Sniperscopes, 63, 68 
Solidity, 184, 194, 198, 209, 375 

SongS, 212, 215, 222 

Sonnenschein, Professor, 240,246,247 
Sophistication, 87, 88, 180, 192, 213, 

35 1 

Souvenir, 64, 69 
Speculation, 310 
Speech, 338 

Spirit and Matter, 320, 323 
Spirit Teachings, 350 
Spiritual body, 319 
S.P.R., 83, 84, 85, 87, 89, ioo, 102, 

104, 114, 133, 172, 346, 371, 372 

Stallard, 79, 154 

Stand-to, 43, 44, 65, 66 

Stars, 24, 30, 200, 306, 309 

Stead, Mr., 131, 178 

St. Eloi, 73, 75 

St. Cieunains, 277 

St. Omer, 51 

St. Paul, 102, 170 

String, 196 

S'ring of beads, 288 

Strong, Professor, 94 

Suffering, 178 

Summerland, 224, 230, 233, 263 

Superstition, 318 

Supremacy of Spiritual over Material, 

3 17 

Surroundings of non- material exist- 
ence, 336 

Survival, General, 336 

Survival of Man, 83, 86, 87, lOf, 172 

Swinburne, 4, 7 

Symbols, 305 

Symposium, 83 

Table tilting, 89, 121, 122, 136, 137, 

138, 143, 144, 151, 183, 190, 224, 

270, 362, 363, 364 
Tate, Harry, 54 
Taylor, Captain, 15, 17, 22, 37, 63, 

64, 69, 71, 72 
Telegram, 153 
Telekinesis, 89 

Telepathy, 88, 114, 275, 283, 313, 
339, 346 

Telephone operators, 87 
Telergy, 88 
Tennyson, 281, 289, 305, 309, 316, 

320, 326, 345, 348 
Tent, 250, 252, 266 
Tent Lodge, Coniston, 155 
Tests, 152, 157, 159, 224, 249 
Theological attitude, 314 
Theology, 352, 384, 395 
Think things wanted said, 159 
Thomas, Humphrey, 17, 23, 31, 42, 

43, 47, 49 

Thompson, Mrs. Isaac, 112 
Thomson, Professor J. Arthur, 283 
Thought Forms, 184, 198, 230 
Tools, 320 
Trance, 129, 356 
Trance medium, 86, 88 
Transcendence, 380, 384 
Transition, 101, 288, 306 
Trench improvement, 29, 33, 36, 63, 




Trenches, 20, 24 
Trivial messages, 346, 349 
Truncation of Life, 322 
Tunnel simile, 100, 133 

Uncle Jerry, 166 
Unity, 284, 306, 307, 337 
Unverifiable statements, 171, 188, 
I95 *96, 207. 2 9 226 2 3 347 

Ventris, Mr., 57, 74, 76, 77, 78 

Verrall, Mrs., 88, 91, 336 

Versailles, 43 

Violet, 35, 45> 5 2 *34, "6 

Virgil, 14, 317, 319, 373 

Vital Force, 371 

Voice, 193, 20 1, 365 

Walker, Messrs. Thos., & Son, 63 
Wallace, Dr. A. Russel, 334, 342 
War, 185, 309 
Warning, 225, 342 
Way, Lieutenant, 53, 55 
Weddings, 58 

Weismann, Professor, 295, 323 

Whizz-bangs, $6, 60 

Will, 134 

William (see also Grandfather and 

Gardener), 159, 187, 190, 210, 213, 

221, 229 

Window, exchange for paraffin, 44 
Winifred, 52 
Winter campaign, 50 
Wireless telegraphy, 244, 338 
Wolseley Motor Works, 4, 79 
Wood, Miss K A., 218, 221 
Woolacombe, 250, 253 
Wordsworth, vi 
Workers, 291 
Wriedt, Mrs., 118 
Wyatt, Lieut., 19, 42 

Yacht, 251, 266 

Yogi, 177 

Ypres, 12, 31, 44, 47, 58, 74, 78, 9 2 

Zeppelins, 228 

Prtnnd y