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Thomas Troward
The Law and the Word
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Inhaltsverzeichnis
Titel
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
SOME FACTS IN NATURE
SOME PSYCHIC EXPERIENCES
MAN'S PLACE IN THE CREATIVE ORDER
THE LAW OF WHOLENESS
THE SOUL OF THE SUBJECT
THE PROMISES
DEATH AND IMMORTALITY
TRANSFERRING THE BURDEN
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CONTENTS
The Law and the Word
Author: Thomas Troward
FOREWORD
SOME FACTS IN NATURE
SOME PSYCHIC EXPERIENCES
MAN'S PLACE IN THE CREATIVE ORDER
THE LAW OF WHOLENESS
THE SOUL OF THE SUBJECT
THE PROMISES
DEATH AND IMMORTALITY
TRANSFERRING THE BURDEN
FOREWORD
THOMAS TROWARD
AN APPRECIATION
How is one to know a friend? Certainly not by the duration of
acquaintance. Neither can friendship be bought or sold by service
rendered. Nor can it be coined into acts of gallantry or phrases of
flattery. It has no part in the small change of courtesy. It is outside
all these, containing them all and superior to them all.
To some is given the great privilege of a day set apart to mark the
arrival of a total stranger panoplied with all the insignia of
friendship. He comes unannounced. He bears no letter of introduction. No
mutual friend can vouch for him. Suddenly and silently he steps
unexpectedly out of the shadow of material concern and spiritual
obscurity, into the radiance of intimate friendship, as a picture is
projected upon a lighted screen. But unlike the phantom picture he is an
instant reality that one's whole being immediately recognizes, and the
radiance of fellowship that pervades his word, thought and action holds
all the essence of long companionship.
Unfortunately there are too few of these bright messengers of God to be
met with in life's pilgrimage, but that Judge Troward was one of them
will never be doubted by the thousands who are now mourning his
departure from among us. Those whose closest touch with him has been the
reading of his books will mourn him as a friend only less than those who
listened to him on the platform. For no books ever written more clearly
expressed the author. The same simple lucidity and gentle humanity, the
same effort to discard complicated non-essentials, mark both the man and
his books.
Although the spirit of benign friendliness pervades his writings and
illuminated his public life, yet much of his capacity for friendship was
denied those who were not privileged to clasp hands with him and to sit
beside him in familiar confidence. Only in the intimacy of the fireside
did he wholly reveal his innate modesty and simplicity of character.
Here alone, glamoured with his radiating friendship, was shown the
wealth of his richly-stored mind equipped by nature and long training to
deal logically with the most profound and abstruse questions of life.
Here indeed was proof of his greatness, his unassuming superiority, his
humanity, his keen sense of honour, his wit and humour, his generosity
and all the characteristics of a rare gentleman, a kindly philosopher
and a true friend.
To Judge Troward was given the logician's power to strip a subject bare
of all superfluous and concealing verbiage, and to exhibit the gleaming
jewels of truth and reality in splendid simplicity. This supreme
quality, this ability to make the complex simple, the power to
subordinate the non-essential, gave to his conversation, to his
lectures, to his writings, and in no less degree to his personality, a
direct and charming naïveté that at once challenged attention and
compelled confidence and affection.
His sincerity was beyond question. However much one might differ from
him in opinion, at least one never doubted his profound faith and
complete devotion to truth. His guileless nature was beyond ungenerous
suspicions and selfish ambitions. He walked calmly upon his way wrapped
in the majesty of his great thoughts, oblivious to the vexations of the
world's cynicism. Charity and reverence for the indwelling spirit marked
all his human relations. Tolerance of the opinions of others,
benevolence and tenderness dwelt in his every word and act. Yet his
careful consideration of others did not paralyze the strength of his
firm will or his power to strike hard blows at wrong and error. The
search for truth, to which his life was devoted, was to him a holy
quest. That he could and would lay a lance in defence of his opinions is
evidenced in his writings, and has many times been demonstrated to the
discomfiture of assailing critics. But his urbanity was a part of
himself and never departed from him.
Not to destroy but to create was his part in the world. In developing
his philosophy he built upon the foundation of his predecessors. No good
and true stone to be found among the ruins of the past, but was
carefully worked into his superstructure of modern thought, radiant with
spirituality, to the building of which the enthusiasm of his life was
devoted.
To one who has studied Judge Troward, and grasped the significance of
his theory of the "Universal Sub-conscious Mind," and who also has
attained to an appreciation of Henri Bergson's theory of a "Universal
Livingness," superior to and outside the material Universe, there must
appear a distinct correlation of ideas. That intricate and ponderously
irrefutable argument that Bergson has so patiently built up by deep
scientific research and unsurpassed profundity of thought and
crystal-clear reason, that leads to the substantial conclusion that man
has leapt the barrier of materiality only by the urge of some external
pressure superior to himself, but which, by reason of infinite effort,
he alone of all terrestrial beings has succeeded in utilizing in a
superior manner and to his advantage: this well-rounded and exhaustively
demonstrated argument in favour of a super-livingness in the universe,
which finds its highest terrestrial expression in man, appears to be the
scientific demonstration of Judge Troward's basic principle of the
"Universal Sub-conscious Mind." This universal and infinite
God-consciousness which Judge Troward postulates as man's
sub-consciousness, and from which man was created and is maintained,
and of which all physical, mental and spiritual manifestation is a form
of expression, appears to be a corollary of Bergson's demonstrated
"Universal Livingness." What Bergson has so brilliantly proven by
patient and exhaustive processes of science, Judge Troward arrived at by
intuition, and postulated as the basis of his argument, which he
proceeded to develop by deductive reasoning.
The writer was struck by the apparent parallelism of these two
distinctly dissimilar philosophies, and mentioned the discovery to Judge
Troward who naturally expressed a wish to read Bergson, with whose
writings he was wholly unacquainted. A loan of Bergson's "Creative
Evolution" produced no comment for several weeks, when it was returned
with the characteristic remark, "I've tried my best to get hold of him,
but I don't know what he is talking about." I mention the remark as
being characteristic only because it indicates his extreme modesty and
disregard of exhaustive scientific research.
The Bergson method of scientific expression was unintelligible to his
mind, trained to intuitive reasoning. The very elaborateness and
microscopic detail that makes Bergson great is opposed to Judge
Troward's method of simplicity. He cared not for complexities, and the
intricate minutiæ of the process of creation, but was only concerned
with its motive power--the spiritual principles upon which it was
organized and upon which it proceeds.
Although the conservator of truth of every form and degree wherever
found, Judge Troward was a ruthless destroyer of sham and pretence. To
those submissive minds that placidly accept everything indiscriminately,
and also those who prefer to follow along paths of well-beaten opinion,
because the beaten path is popular, to all such he would perhaps appear
to be an irreverent iconoclast seeking to uproot long accepted dogma and
to overturn existing faiths. Such an opinion of Judge Troward's work
could not prevail with any one who has studied his teachings.
His reverence for the fundamental truths of religious faith was
profound, and every student of his writings will testify to the great
constructive value of his work. He builded upon an ancient foundation a
new and nobler structure of human destiny, solid in its simplicity and
beautiful in its innate grandeur.
But to the wide circle of Judge Troward's friends he will best and most
gloriously be remembered as a teacher. In his magic mind the
unfathomable revealed its depths and the illimitable its boundaries;
metaphysics took on the simplicity of the ponderable, and man himself
occupied a new and more dignified place in the Cosmos. Not only did he
perceive clearly, but he also possessed that quality of mind even more
rare than deep and clear perception, that clarity of expression and
exposition that can carry another and less-informed mind along with it,
on the current of its understanding, to a logical and comprehended
conclusion.
In his books, his lectures and his personality he was always ready to
take the student by the hand, and in perfect simplicity and friendliness
to walk and talk with him about the deeper mysteries of life--the life
that includes death--and to shed the brilliant light of his wisdom upon
the obscure and difficult problems that torment sincere but rebellious
minds.
His artistic nature found expression in brush and canvas and his great
love for the sea is reflected in many beautiful marine sketches. But if
painting was his recreation, his work was the pursuit of Truth wherever
to be found, and in whatever disguise.
His life has enriched and enlarged the lives of many, and all those who
knew him will understand that in helping others he was accomplishing
exactly what he most desired. Knowledge, to him, was worth only what it
yielded in uplifting humanity to a higher spiritual appreciation, and to
a deeper understanding of God's purpose and man's destiny.
A man, indeed! He strove not for a place,
Nor rest, nor rule. He daily walked with God.
His willing feet with service swift were shod--
An eager soul to serve the human race,
Illume the mind, and fill the heart with grace--
Hope blooms afresh where'er those feet have trod.
PAUL DERRICK.
SOME FACTS IN NATURE
If I were asked what, in my opinion, distinguishes the thought of the
present day from that of a previous generation, I should feel inclined
to say, it is the fact that people are beginning to realize that Thought
is a power in itself, one of the great forces of the Universe, and
ultimately the greatest of forces, directing all the others. This idea
seems to be, as the French say, "in the air," and this very well
expresses the state of the case--the idea is rapidly spreading through
many countries and through all classes, but it is still very much "in
the air." It is to a great extent as yet only in a gaseous condition,
vague and nebulous, and so not leading to the practical results, both
individual and collective, which might be expected of it, if it were
consolidated into a more workable form. We are like some amateurs who
want to paint finished pictures before they have studied the elements of
Art, and when they see an artist do without difficulty what they vainly
attempt, they look upon him as a being specially favoured by Providence,
instead of putting it down to their own want of knowledge. The idea is
true. Thought _is_ the great power of the Universe. But to make it
practically available we must know something of the principles by which
it works--that it is not a mere vaporous indefinable influence floating
around and subject to no known laws, but that on the contrary, it
follows laws as uncompromising as those of mathematics, while at the
same time allowing unlimited freedom to the individual.
Now the purpose of the following pages, is to suggest to the reader the
lines on which to find his way out of this nebulous sort of thought into
something more solid and reliable. I do not profess, like a certain
Negro preacher, to "unscrew the inscrutable," for we can never reach a
point where we shall not find the inscrutable still ahead of us; but if
I can indicate the use of a screw-driver instead of a hatchet, and that
the screws should be turned from left to right, instead of from right to
left, it may enable us to unscrew some things which would otherwise
remain screwed down tight. We are all beginners, and indeed the
hopefulness of life is in realizing that there are such vistas of
unending possibilities before us, that however far we may advance, we
shall always be on the threshold of something greater. We must be like
Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up--heaven defend me from ever feeling
quite grown up, for then I should come to a standstill; so the reader
must take what I have to say simply as the talk of one boy to another in
the Great School, and not expect too much.
The first question then is, where to begin. Descartes commenced his book
with the words "Cogito, ergo sum." "I think, therefore I am," and we
cannot do better than follow his example. There are two things about
which we cannot have any doubt--our own existence, and that of the world
around us. But what is it in us that is aware of these two things, that
hopes and fears and plans regarding them? Certainly not our flesh and
bones. A man whose leg has been amputated is able to think just the
same. Therefore it is obvious that there is something in us which
receives impressions and forms ideas, that reasons upon facts and
determines upon courses of action and carries them out, which is not the
physical body. This is the real "I Myself." This is the Person we are
really concerned with; and it is the betterment of this "I Myself" that
makes it worth while to enquire what our Thought has to do in the
matter.
Equally true it is on the other hand that the forces of Nature around us
do not think. Steam, electricity, gravitation, and chemical affinity do
not think. They follow certain fixed laws which we have no power to
alter. Therefore we are confronted at the outset by a broad distinction
between two modes of Motion--the Movement of Thought and the Movement of
Cosmic Energy--the one based upon the exercise of Consciousness and
Will, and the other based upon Mathematical Sequence. This is why that
system of instruction known as Free Masonry starts by erecting the two
symbolic pillars Jachin and Boaz--Jachin so called from the root "Yak"
meaning "One," indicating the Mathematical element of Law; and Boaz,
from the root "Awáz" meaning "Voice" indicating Personal element of Free
Will. These names are taken from the description in I Kings vii, 21 and
II Chron. iii, 17 of the building of Solomon's Temple, where these two
pillars stood before the entrance, the meaning being that the Temple of
Truth can only be entered by passing between them, that is, by giving
each of these factors their due relation to the other, and by realizing
that they are the two Pillars of the Universe, and that no real progress
can be made except by finding the true balance between them. Law and
Personality--these are the two great principles with which we have to
deal, and the problem is to square the one with the other.
Let me start, then, by considering some well established facts in the
physical world which show how the known Law acts under certain known
conditions, and this will lead us on in an intelligible manner to see
how the same Law is likely to work under as yet unknown conditions. If
we had to deal with unknown laws as well as unknown conditions we
should, indeed, be up a gum tree. Fancy a mathematician having to solve
an equation, both sides of which were entirely made up of unknown
quantities--where would he be? Happily this is not the case. The Law is
ONE throughout, and the apparent variety of its working results from the
infinite variety of the conditions under which it may work. Let us lay a
foundation, then, by seeing how it works in what we call the common
course of Nature. A few examples will suffice.
Hardly more than a generation ago it was supposed that the analysis of
matter could not be carried further than its reduction to some seventy
primary chemical elements, which in various combinations produced all
material substances; but there was no explanation how all these
different elements came into existence. Each appeared to be an original
creation, and there was no accounting for them. But now-a-days, as the
rustic physician says in Molière's play of the "Médecin Malgré Lui,"
"nous avons changé tout cela." Modern science has shown conclusively
that every kind of chemical atom is composed of particles of one
original substance which appears to pervade all space, and to which the
name of Ether has been given. Some of these particles carry a positive
charge of electricity and some a negative, and the chemical atom is
formed by the grouping of a certain number of negatively charged
particles round a centre composed of positive electricity around which
they revolve; and it is the number of these particles and the rate of
their motion that determines the nature of the atom, whether, for
instance, it will be an atom of iron or an atom of hydrogen, and thus we
are brought back to Plato's old aphorism that the Universe consists of
Number and Motion.
The size of these etheric particles is small beyond anything but
abstract mathematical conception. Sir Oliver Lodge is reported to have
made the following comparison in a lecture delivered at Birmingham. "The
chemical atom," he said, "is as small in comparison to a drop of water
as a cricket-ball is compared to the globe of the earth; and yet this
atom is as large in comparison to one of its constituent particles as
Birmingham town-hall is to a pin's head." Again, it has been said that
in proportion to the size of the particles the distance at which they
revolve round the centre of the atom is as great as the distance from
the earth to the sun. I must leave the realization of such infinite
minuteness to the reader's imagination--it is beyond mine.
Modern science thus shows us all material substance, whether that of
inanimate matter or that of our own bodies, as proceeding out of one
primary etheric substance occupying all space and homogeneous, that is
being of a uniform substance--and having no qualities to distinguish one
part from another. Now this conclusion of science is important because
it is precisely the fact that out of this homogeneous substance
particles are produced which differ from the original substance in that
they possess positive and negative energy and of these particles the
atom is built up. So then comes the question: What started this
differentiation?
The electronic theory which I have just mentioned takes us as far as a
universal homogeneous ether as the source from which all matter is
evolved, but it does not account for how motion originated in it; but
perhaps another closely allied scientific theory will help us. Let us,
then, turn to the question of Vibrations or Waves in Ether. In
scientific language the length of a wave is the distance from the crest
of one wave to that of the wave immediately following it. Now modern
science recognizes a long series of waves in ether, commencing with the
smallest yet known measuring 0.1 micron, or about 1/254,000 of an inch,
in length, measured by Professor Schumann in 1893, and extending to
waves of many miles in length used in wireless telegraphy--for instance
those employed between Clifden in Galway and Glace Bay in Nova Scotia
are estimated to have a length of nearly four miles. These
infinitesimally small ultra-violet or actinic waves, as they are called,
are the principal agents in photography, and the great waves of wireless
telegraphy are able to carry a force across the Atlantic which can
sensibly affect the apparatus on the other side; therefore we see that
the ether of space affords a medium through which energy can be
transmitted by means of vibrations.
But what starts the vibrations? Hertz announced his discovery of the
electro-magnetic waves, now known by his name, in 1888; but, following
up the labours of various other investigators, Lodge, Marconi and others
finally developed their practical application after Hertz's death which
occurred in 1894. To Hertz, however, belongs the honour of discovering
how to generate these waves by means of sudden, sharply defined,
electrical discharges. The principle may be illustrated by dropping a
stone in smooth water. The sudden impact sets up a series of ripples all
round the centre of disturbance, and the electrical impulse acts
similarly in the ether. Indeed the fact that the waves flow in all
directions from the central impulse is one of the difficulties of
wireless telegraphy, because the message may be picked up in any
direction by a receiver tuned to the same rate of vibration, and the
interest for us consists in the hypothesis that thought-waves act in an
analogous manner.
That vibrations are excited by sound is beautifully exemplified by the
eidophone, an instrument invented, I believe, by Mrs. Watts-Hughes, and
with which I have seen that lady experiment. Dry sand is scattered on a
diaphragm on which the eidophone concentrates the vibrations from music
played near it. The sand, as it were, dances in time to the music, and
when the music stops is found to settle into definite forms, sometimes
like a tree or a flower, or else some geometrical figure, but never a
confused jumble. Perhaps in this we may find the origin of the legends
regarding the creative power of Orpheus' lyre, and also the sacred
dances of the ancients--who knows!
Perhaps some critical reader may object that sound travels by means of
atmospheric and not etheric waves; but is he prepared to say that it
cannot produce etheric waves also. The very recent discovery of
transatlantic telephoning tends to show that etheric waves can be
generated by sound, for on the 20th of October, 1915, words spoken in
New York were immediately heard in Paris, and could therefore only have
been transmitted through the ether, for sound travels through the
atmosphere only at the rate of about 750 miles an hour, while the speed
of impulses through ether can only be compared to that of light or
186,000 miles in a second. It is therefore a fair inference that etheric
vibrations can be inaugurated by sound.
Perhaps the reader may feel inclined to say with the Irishman that all
this is "as dry as ditch-water," but he will see before long that it has
a good deal to do with ourselves. For the present what I want him to
realize by a few examples is the mathematical accuracy of Law. The value
of these examples lies in their illustration of the fact that the Law
can always be trusted to lead us on to further knowledge. We see it
working under known conditions, and relying on its unchangeableness, we
can then logically infer what it will do under other hypothetical
conditions, and in this way many important discoveries have been made.
For instance it was in this way that Mendeléef, the Russian chemist,
assumed the existence of three then unknown chemical elements, now
called Scandium, Gallium and Germanium. There was a gap in the orderly
sequence of the chemical elements, and relying on the old maxim--"Natura
nihil facit per saltum"--Nature nowhere leaves a gap to jump over--he
argued that if such elements did not exist they ought to, and so he
calculated what these elements ought to be like, giving their atomic
weight, chemical affinities, and the like; and when they were discovered
many years later they were found to answer exactly to his description.
He prophesied, not by guesswork, but by knowledge of the Law; and in
much the same way radium was discovered by Professor and Madame Curie.
In like manner Hertz was led to the discovery of the electro-magnetic
waves. The celebrated mathematician Clerk-Maxwell had calculated all
particulars of these waves twenty-five years before Hertz, on the basis
of these calculations, worked out his discovery. Again, Neptune, the
outermost known planet of our system was discovered by the astronomer
Galle in consequence of calculations made by Leverrier. Certain
variations in the movements of the planets were mathematically
unaccountable except on the hypothesis that some more remote planet
existed. Astronomers had faith in mathematics and the hypothetical
planet was found to be a reality. Instances of this kind might be
multiplied, but as the French say "à quoi bon?" I think these will be
sufficient to convince the reader that the invariable sequence of Law is
a factor to be relied upon, and that by studying its working under known
conditions we may get at least some measure of light on conditions which
are as yet unknown to us.
Let us now pass on to the human subject and consider a few examples of
what is usually called the psychic side of our nature. Walt Whitman was
quite right when he said that we are not all included between our hat
and our boots; we shall find that our modes of consciousness and powers
of action are not entirely restricted to our physical body. The
importance of this line of enquiry lies in the fact that if we do
possess extra-physical powers, these also form part of our personality
and must be included in our estimate of our relation to our environment,
and it is therefore worth our while to consider them.
Some very interesting experiments have been made by De Rochas, an
eminent French scientist, which go to show that under certain magnetic
conditions the sensation of physical touch can be experienced at some
distance from the body. He found that under these conditions the person
experimented on is insensible to the prick of a needle run into his
skin, but if the prick is made about an inch-and-a-half away from the
surface of the skin he feels it. Again at about three inches from this
point he feels the prick of the needle, but is insensible to it in the
space between these two points. Then there comes another interval in
which no sensation is conveyed, but at about three inches still further
away he again feels the sensation, and so on; so that he appears to be
surrounded by successive zones of sensation, the first about an
inch-and-a-half from the body, and the others at intervals of about
three inches each. The number of these zones seems to vary in different
cases, but in some there are as many as six or seven, thus giving a
radius of sensation, extending to more than twenty inches beyond the
body.
Now to explain this we must have recourse to what I have already said
about waves. The heart and the lungs are the two centres of automatic
rhythmic movement in the body, and each projects its own series of
vibrations into the etheric envelope. Those projected by the lungs are
estimated to be three times the length of those projected by the heart,
while those projected by the heart are three times as rapid as those
projected by the lungs. Consequently if the two sets of waves start
together the crest of every third wave of the rapid series of short
waves will coincide with the crest of one of the long waves of the
slower series, while the intermediate short waves will coincide with the
depression of one of the long waves. Now the effect of the crest of one
wave overtaking that of another going in the same direction, is to raise
the two together at that point into a single wave of greater amplitude
or height than the original waves had by themselves; if the reader has
the opportunity of studying the inflowing of waves on the seabeach he
can verify this for himself. Consequently when the more rapid etheric
waves overtake the slower ones they combine to form a larger wave, and
it is at these points that the zones of sensation occur. If the reader
will draw a diagram of two waved lines travelling along the same
horizontal line and so proportioned that the crest of each of the large
waves coincides with the crest of every third wave of the small ones, he
will see what I mean: and if he then recollects that the fall in the
larger waves neutralizes the rise in the smaller ones, and that because
this double series starts from the interior of the body the surface of
the body comes just at one of these neutralized points, he will see why
sensation is neutralized there; and he will also see why the succeeding
zones of sensation are double the distance from each other that the
first one is from the surface of the body; it is simply because the
surface of the body cuts the first long wave exactly in the middle, and
therefore only half that wave occurs outside the body. This is the
explanation given by De Rochas, and it affords another example of that
principle of mathematical sequence of which I have spoken. It would
appear that under normal conditions the double series of vibrations is
spread all over the body, and so all parts are alike sensitive to touch.
I think, then, we may assume on the basis of De Rochas' experiments and
others that there are such things as etheric vibrations proceeding from
human personality, and in the next chapter I will give some examples
showing that the psychic personality extends still further than these
experiments, taken by themselves, would indicate--in fact that we
possess an additional range of faculties far exceeding those which we
ordinarily exercise through the physical body, and which must therefore
be included in our conception of ourselves if we are to have an adequate
idea of what we really are.
SOME PSYCHIC EXPERIENCES
The preceding chapter has introduced the reader to the general subject
of etheric vibration as one of the natural forces of the Universe, both
as the foundation of all matter and as the medium for the transmission
of energy to immense distances, and also as something continually
emanating from human beings. In the present chapter I shall consider it
more particularly in this last aspect, which, as included in our own
personality, very immediately concerns ourselves. I will commence with
an instance of the practical application of this fact. Some years ago I
was lunching at the house of Lady ---- in company of a well-known mental
healer whom I will call Mr. Y. and a well-known London physician whom I
will call Dr. W. Mr. Y. mentioned the case of a lady whose leg had been
amputated above the knee some years previously to her coming under his
care, yet she frequently felt pains in the (amputated) knee and lower
part of the left leg and foot. Dr. W. said this was to be attributed to
the nerves which convey to the brain the sensation of the extremities,
much as a telegraph line might be tapped in the middle, and Mr. Y.
agreed that this was perfectly true on the purely physical side. But he
went on to say, that accidentally putting his hand where the amputated
foot should have been he felt it there. Then it occurred to him that
since there was no material foot to be touched, it must be through the
medium of his own psychic body that the sensation of touch was conveyed
to him, and accordingly he asked the lady to imagine that she was making
various movements with the amputated limb, all of which he felt, and was
able to tell her what each movement was, which she said he did
correctly. Then, to carry the experiment further, he reversed the
process and with his hand moved the invisible leg and foot in various
ways, all of which the lady felt and described. He then determined to
treat the invisible leg as though it were a real one, and joined up the
circuit by taking her left foot in his right hand and her right foot
(the amputated one) in his left, with the result that she immediately
felt relief; and after successive treatments in this way was entirely
cured.
A well authenticated case like this opens up a good many interesting
questions regarding the Psychic Body, but the most important point
appears to me to be that we are able to experience sensation by means of
it. In this case, however, and those mentioned in the preceding chapter,
the physical body was actually present, and if we stopped at this point,
we might question whether its presence was not a _sine qua non_ for the
action of the etheric vibrations. I will therefore pass on to a class of
examples which show that very curious phenomena can take place without
the physical body being on the spot. There are numerous well verified
cases of the kind to be found in the records of the Society for
Psychical Research and in other books by trustworthy writers; but it may
perhaps interest the present reader to hear one or two instances of my
personal experience which, though they may not be so striking as some of
those recorded by others, still point in the same direction.
My first introduction to Scotland was when I delivered the course of
lectures in Edinburgh which led to the publication of my first book,
the "Edinburgh Lectures on Mental Science." The following years I gave
a second course of lectures in Edinburgh, but the friends who had kindly
entertained me on the former occasion had in the meanwhile gone to live
elsewhere. However, a certain Mr. S., whose acquaintance I had made on
my previous visit, invited me to stay with him for a day or two while I
could look round for other accommodation, though, as it turned out, I
remained at his house during the whole month I was in Edinburgh. I had,
however, never seen his house, which was on the opposite side of the
town to where I had stayed before. I arrived there on a Tuesday, and Mr.
S. and his family at once met me with the question:
"What were you thinking of at ten o'clock on Sunday evening?"
I could not immediately recall this, and also wanted to know the reason
of their question.
"We have something curious to tell you," they replied, "but first try to
remember what you were thinking of at ten o'clock on Sunday
evening--were you thinking about us?"
Then I recollected that about that time I was saying my usual prayers
before going to bed and had asked that, if I could stay only a day or
two with Mr. S., I should be directed to a suitable place for the
remainder of the time.
"That explains it," they replied; and then they went on to tell me that
at the hour in question Mr. S. and his son, a young man of about twenty,
had entered their dining-room together and seen me standing leaning
against the mantel-shelf. They were both hard-headed Scotchmen engaged
in business in Edinburgh, and certainly not the sort of people to
conjure up fanciful imaginings, nor is it likely that the same fancy
should have occurred to both of them; and therefore I can only suppose
that they actually saw what they said they did. Now I myself was in
London at the time of this appearance in Edinburgh, of which I had no
consciousness whatever; at the same time the fact of my being seen in
Edinburgh exactly at the time when my thought, in prayer, was centred
upon Mr. S.'s house (which I had not then seen) is a coincidence
suggesting that in some way my Thought had made itself visible there in
the image of my external personality.
In this case, as I have said, I was not conscious of my psychic visit to
Edinburgh, but I will now relate a converse instance, which occurred in
connection with my first visit there. At that time I had never been in
Scotland, and so far as I knew was never likely to go there. I was wide
awake, writing in my study at Norwood, where I then lived, when I
suddenly found myself in a place totally unknown to me, where stood the
ruins of an ancient abbey, part of which, however, was still roofed over
and used as a place of worship. I felt much interested, and among other
things I noted a Latin inscription on a tablet in one of the walls.
There seemed to be an invisible guide showing me over the place, who
then pointed out a long low house opposite the abbey, and said: "This is
the house of the clergyman of the abbey"; and I was then taken inside
the house and shown a number of antique-looking rooms. Then I came to
myself, and found I was sitting at my writing-table in Norwood. I had,
however, a clear recollection of the place I had seen, but no idea where
it was, or indeed whether any such place really existed. I also
remembered a portion of the Latin inscription, which I at once wrote
down in a note-book, as my curiosity was aroused.
As I have said, I had no reason at that time to suppose I should ever
go to Scotland, but some weeks later I was invited to lecture in
Edinburgh. Another visitor in the house where I was a guest there, was
the wife of the County Court Judge of Cumberland, and I showed her and
our hostess the part of the Latin inscription I had retained, and
suggested that perhaps it might exist somewhere in Edinburgh. However
nothing answering to what I had seen was to be found, so we relegated
the whole thing to the region of unaccountable fancies, and thought no
more about it. The Judge's wife took her departure before me, and kindly
invited me to spend a few days at their residence near Carlisle on my
return journey, which I did. One day she drove me out to see Lanercost
Abbey, one of the show-places of the neighbourhood, and walking round
the building I found in one of the walls the Latin inscription in
question. I called Mrs. ----, who was a little way off, and said: "Look
at this inscription."
She at once replied: "Why! that is the very inscription we were all
puzzling over in Edinburgh!"
It turned out to be an inscription in memory of the founder of the
abbey, dating from somewhere in the eleven-hundreds. The whole place
answered exactly to what I had seen, and the long low parsonage was
there also.
"I should have liked you to see it inside," said Mrs. ----, "but I have
never met the vicar, though I know his mother-in-law, so we must give it
up."
We were just entering our carriage when the garden-gate opened, and who
should come out but the mother-in-law.
"Oh, Mrs. ----," she said, addressing the Judge's wife, "I am here on a
visit and you must come in and take tea." So we went in and were shown
over the house, much as I had been in my vision, and some portions were
so old that, among other rooms, we were shown the one occupied by King
Edward I on his march against Scotland in the year 1296, when the
Scottish regalia was captured, and the celebrated Crowning-Stone was
brought to England and placed in Westminster Abbey, where it has ever
since remained--a stone having an occult relation to the history of the
British and American peoples of the highest interest to both, but as
there is already an extensive literature on this subject I will not
enter upon it here.
I will now relate another curious experience. We had only recently
taken up our residence at Norwood, when one day I was seated in the
dining-room, but suddenly found myself in the hall, and saw two ladies
going up the stairs. They passed close to me, and turning round the
landing at the top of the stairs passed out of sight in a perfectly
natural manner. They looked as solid as any one I have ever seen in my
life. One of them was a stout lady with a rather florid complexion,
apparently between forty-five and fifty, wearing a silk blouse with thin
purple and white stripes. Leaning on her arm was a slightly-built old
lady with white ringlets, dressed all in black and wearing a lace
mantilla. I noticed their appearance particularly. The next moment I
found I was really sitting in the dining-room, and that the ladies I had
seen were nothing but visionary figures. I wondered what it could mean,
but as we had only recently taken the house, thought it better not to
mention it to any of my family, for fear of causing them alarm. But a
few days later I mentioned it to a Mrs. F. who I knew had had some
experience in such matters, and she said: "You have seen either some one
who has lived in the house or who is going to live there." Then the
matter dropped.
About a month later my wife arranged by correspondence for a certain
Miss B. to come as governess to our children. When she arrived there was
no mistaking her identity. She was the stout lady I had seen, and the
next morning she came down to breakfast dressed in the identical blouse
with purple and white stripes. There was no mistaking her, but I was
puzzled as to who the other figure could be whom I had seen along with
her. I resolved, however, to say nothing about the matter until we
became better acquainted, lest she should think that my mind was not
quite balanced. I therefore held my peace for six months, at the end of
which time I concluded that we knew enough of each other to allow one
another credit for being fairly level-headed. Then I thought, now if I
tell her what I saw she may perhaps be acted upon by suggestion and
imagine a resemblance between the unknown figure and some acquaintance
of hers, so I will not begin by telling her of the vision, but will
first ask if she knows any one answering to the description, and give
her the reason afterwards. I therefore took a suitable opportunity of
asking her if she knew any such person, describing the figure to her as
accurately as I could.
Her look of surprise grew as I went on, and when I had finished she
explained with astonishment: "Why, Mr. Troward, where _could_ you have
seen my mother? She is an invalid, and I am certain you have never seen
her, and yet you have described her most accurately."
Then I told her what I had seen. She asked what I thought was the
explanation of the appearance, and the only explanation I could give
was, that I supposed she was on the look-out for a post and paid us a
preliminary visit to see whether ours would suit her, and that, being
naturally interested in her welfare, her mother had accompanied her.
Perhaps you will say: "What came of it?" Well, nothing "came of it," nor
did anything "come" of my psychic visits to Edinburgh and Lanercost
Abbey. Such occurrences seem to be simple facts in Nature which, though
on some occasions connected with premonitions of more or less
importance, are by no means necessarily so. They are the functioning of
certain faculties which we all possess, but of the nature of which we as
yet know very little.
It will be noticed that in the first of these three cases I myself was
the person seen, though unaware of the fact. In the last I was the
percipient, but the persons seen by me were unconscious of their visit;
and in the second case I was conscious of my presence at a place which I
had never heard of, and which I visited some time after. In two of these
cases, therefore, the persons, making the psychic visit, were not aware
of having done so, while in the third, a memory of what had been seen
was retained. But all three cases have this in common, that the psychic
visit was not the result of an act of conscious volition, and also, that
the psychic action took place at a long distance from the physical body.
From these personal experiences, as well as from many well authenticated
cases recorded by other writers, I should be inclined to infer that the
psychic action is entirely independent of the physical body, and in
support of this view I will cite yet another experience.
It was about the year 1875, when I was a young Assistant Commissioner in
the Punjab, that I was ordered to the small up-country station of
Akalpur,[1] and took possession of the Assistant Commissioner's
bungalow there. On the night of our arrival in the bungalow, my wife and
I had our charpoys--light Indian bedsteads--placed side by side in a
certain room and went to bed. The last thing I remembered before falling
asleep, was seeing my wife sitting up in bed, reading with a lamp on a
small table beside her. Suddenly I was awakened by the sound of a shot,
and starting up, found the room in darkness. I immediately lit a candle
which was on a chair by my bedside, and found my wife still sitting up
with the book on her knee, but the lamp had gone out.
"Take me away, take me into another room," she exclaimed.
"Why, what is the matter?" I said.
"Did you not see it?" she replied.
"See what?" I asked.
"Don't stop to ask any questions," she replied; "get me out of this room
at once; I can't stop here another minute."
I saw she was very frightened, so I called up the servants, and had our
beds removed to a room on the other side of the house, and then she told
me what she had seen. She said: "I was sitting reading as you saw me,
when looking round, I saw the figure of an Englishman standing close by
my bedside, a fine-looking man with a large fair moustache and dressed
in a grey suit. I was so surprised that I could not speak, and we
remained looking at each other for about a minute. Then he bent over me
and whispered: 'Don't be afraid,' and with that there was the sound of a
shot, and everything was in darkness."
"My dear girl, you must have fallen asleep over your book and been
dreaming," I said.
"No, I was wide awake," she insisted; "you were asleep, but I was awake
all the time. But you heard the shot, did you not?"
"Yes," I replied, "that is what woke me--some one must have fired a shot
outside."
"But why should any one be shooting in our garden at nearly midnight?"
my wife objected.
It certain seemed strange, but it was the only explanation that
suggested itself; so we had to agree to differ, she being convinced that
she had seen a ghost, and that the shot had been inside the room, and I
being equally convinced that she had been dreaming, and that the shot
had been fired outside the house.
The next morning the owner of the bungalow, an old widow lady, Mrs. La
Chaire, called to make kindly enquiries as to whether she could be of
any service to us on our arrival. After thanking her, my wife said: "I
expect you will laugh at me, but I cannot help telling you there is
something strange about the bungalow"; and she then went on to narrate
what she had seen.
Instead of laughing the old lady looked more and more serious as she
went on, and when she had done asked to be shown exactly where the
apparition had appeared. My wife took her to the spot, and on being
shown it old Mrs. La Chaire exclaimed: "This is the most wonderful thing
I have ever heard of. Eighteen years ago my bed was on the very spot
where yours was last night, and I was lying in it too ill to move, when
my husband, whom you have described most accurately, stood where you saw
him and shot himself dead."
This statement of the widow convinced me that my wife had really seen
what she said she had, and had not dreamed it; and this experience has
led me to make further enquiries into the nature of happenings of this
kind, with the result, that after carefully eliminating all cases which
could be accounted for in any other manner, I have found myself
compelled to admit a considerable number of instances of what are
called "ghosts," on the word of persons whose veracity and soundness of
judgment I should not doubt on any other subject. It is often said that
you never meet any one who has himself seen a ghost, but only those who
have heard of somebody else seeing one. This I can entirely contradict,
for I have met with many trustworthy persons of both sexes, who have
given me accounts of such appearances having been actually witnessed by
themselves. In conclusion, I may mention that I was telling this story
some twenty years later to a Colonel Fox, who had known the unfortunate
man who committed suicide, and he said to me: "Do you know what were the
last words he said to his wife?"
"No," I replied.
"The very same words he spoke to your wife," said Colonel Fox.
This is the story I refer to in my book "Bible Mystery and Bible
Meaning" as that of "the Ghost that I did not see." I do not attempt to
offer any explanation of it, but merely give the facts as they occurred,
and the reader must form his own theory on the subject; but the reason I
bring in this story in the present connection is, that in this instance
there could be no question of the physical body contributing to the
psychic phenomenon, since the person seen had been dead for nearly
twenty years; and coupling this fact with the distance from the physical
body at which the psychic action took place in the other cases I have
mentioned, I think there is a very strong presumption that the psychic
powers can, and do, act independently of the physical body; though of
course it does not follow from this that they cannot also act in
conjunction with it.
On the other hand, a comparison of the present case with those
previously mentioned, fails to throw any light on the important question
whether the deceased feels any consciousness of the action which the
percipient sees, or whether what is seen is like a sort of photograph
impressed upon the atmosphere of a particular locality, and visible only
to certain persons, who are able to sense etheric wave-lengths which are
outside the range of the single octave forming the solar spectrum. It
throws no light on this question, because, in the case of my being seen
by Mr. S. in Edinburgh and that of Miss B. and her mother being seen by
me at Norwood, none of us were conscious of having been at those
places; while in the case of my psychic visit to Lanercost Abbey, and
other similar experiences I have had, I have been fully aware of seeing
the places in question. The evidence tells both ways, and I can
therefore only infer that there are two modes of psychic action, in one
of which the person projecting that action, whether voluntarily or
involuntarily, experiences corresponding sensations, and the other in
which he does not; but I am unable to offer any criterion by which the
observer can, with certainty, distinguish between the two.
It appears to me, that such instances as those I have mentioned, point
to ranges of etheric action beyond those ordinarily recognized by
physical science, but the principle seems to be the same, and it is for
this reason that I have taken the modern scientific theory of etheric
vibration as our starting-point. The universe is one great whole, and
the laws of one part cannot contradict those of another; therefore the
explanation of such queer happenings is not to be found by denying the
well-ascertained laws of Nature on the physical plane, but by
considering whether these laws do not extend further. It is on this
account that I would lay stress on the Mathematical side of things, and
have adduced instances where various discoveries have been made by
following up the sequence indicated by the laws already known, and which
have thus enabled us to fill up gaps in our knowledge, which would
otherwise stop, or at least seriously hinder, our further progress. It
is in this way that Jachin helps Boaz, and that the undeviating nature
of Law, so far from limiting us, becomes our faithful ally if we will
only allow it to do so.
I think, then, that the scientific idea of the ether, as a universal
medium pervading all space, and permeating all substance, will help us
to see that many things which are popularly called supernatural, are to
be attributed to the action of known laws working under, as yet, unknown
conditions, and therefore, when we are confronted with strange
phenomena, a knowledge of the general principles involved, will show us
in what direction to look for an explanation. Now applying this to the
present subject, we may reasonably argue, that since all physical matter
is scientifically proved to consist of the universal ether in various
degrees of condensation, there may be other degrees of condensation,
forming other modes of matter, which are beyond the scope of physical
vision and of our laboratory apparatus. And similarly, we may argue,
that just as various effects can be produced on the physical plane, by
the action of etheric waves of various lengths, so other effects might
be produced on these finer modes of matter, by etheric waves of other
lengths. And in this connection we must not forget that a gap occurs
between the "dark heat" groups and the Hertzian group, consisting of
five octaves of waves, the lengths of which have been theoretically
calculated, but whose action has not yet been discovered. Here we
admittedly have a wide field for the working of known laws under as yet
unknown conditions; and again, how can we say that there are not ranges
of unknown waves, yet smaller than the minute ultra-violet ones, which
commence the present known scale, or transcending those largest ones,
which bear our messages across the Atlantic? Mathematically, there is no
limit to the scale in either direction; and so, taking our stand on the
demonstrated facts of science, we find, that the known laws of Nature
point to their continuation in modes of matter and of force, of which we
have as yet no conception. It is therefore not at all necessary to
spurn the ground of established science to spread the wings of our
fancy; rather it affords us the requisite basis from which to start,
just as the aeronaut cannot rise without a solid surface from which to
spring.
Now if we realize that the ether is an infinitely subtle fluid,
pervading all space, we see that it must constitute a connecting link
between all modes of substance, whether visible or invisible, in all
worlds, and may therefore be called the Universal Medium; and following
up our conception of the Continuity of Law, we may suppose that trains
of waves, inconceivably smaller or greater than any known to modern
science, are set up in this medium, in the same way as the
electro-magnetic waves with which we are acquainted; that is, by an
impulse which generates them from some particular point. In the region
of finer forces we are now prospecting, this impulse might well be the
Desire or Will of the spiritual entity which we ourselves are--that
thinking, feeling, inmost essence of ourself, which is the "noumenon" of
our individuality, and which, for the sake of brevity we call our "Ego,"
a Latin word which simply means "I myself." This idea of spiritual
impulse is quite familiar to us in our every-day talk. We speak of an
impulsive person, meaning one who acts on a sudden thought without
giving due heed to consequences; so in our ordinary speech we look upon
thought as the initial impulse, only we restrict this to the case of
unregulated thought. But if unregulated thought acts as a centre of
impulse, why should not regulated thought do the same? Therefore we may
accept the idea of Thought as the initial impulse, which starts trains
of waves in the Universal Medium, whether with or without due
consideration, and having thus recognized its dynamic power, we must
learn to make the impulsions we thus send forth intelligent, well
defined, and directed to some useful purpose. The operator at some
wireless station does not use his instruments to send out a lot of
jumbled-up waves into the ether, but controls the impulsions into a
definite and intelligible order, and we must do the same.
On some such lines as these, then, we may picture the desire of the Ego
as starting a train of waves in the Universal Medium, which are
reproduced in corresponding _form_ on reaching their destination. As
with the electro-magnetic waves, they may spread all round, just as
ripples do if we throw a stone into a pond; but they will only take form
where there is a correspondence able to receive them. This is what in
the language of electrical engineers is called "Syntony," which means
being tuned to the same rate of vibration, and no doubt it is from some
such cause, that we sometimes experience what seem inexplicable feelings
of attraction or repulsion towards different persons. This also appears
to furnish a key to thought-transference, hypnotism, and other allied
phenomena.
If the reader questions whether thought is capable of generating
impulses in the etheric medium I would refer him to the experiment
mentioned in Chapter XIV of my "Edinburgh Lectures on Mental Science,"
where I describe how, when operating with Dr. Baraduc's biometer, I
found that the needle revolved through a smaller or large arc of the
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