SPIRIT COMMUNICATIONS.

As we have already said, every manifestation that reveals an intention or a will is, for that very reason, intelligent to a greater or lesser degree. It is, then, a generic qualification that distinguishes these kinds of communications from those that are purely material. When the perfecting of this experience permits a reciprocal and continuous exchange of thoughts, regular communications are obtained, whose character allows us to judge the Spirit that is manifesting. According to its nature and objective, they will be frivolous, coarse, or instructive. (See the article Spirit Communication in the “Spiritist Vocabulary”). This distinction is of great importance, for it is through it that the Spirits reveal to us their superiority or their inferiority. Men are known by their language; the same holds for the Spirits. Now, whoever is thoroughly imbued with the distinctive qualities of each of the classes of the Spiritist Scale will easily be able to classify any Spirit that presents itself in the rank that belongs to it, as well as the degree of esteem and confidence it deserves. If experience did not come to support this principle, simple common sense would suffice to demonstrate it. We therefore establish, as an invariable rule and without exception, that the language of the Spirits is always in proportion to the degree of their elevation. That of truly superior Spirits is constantly grave, dignified, noble; it is sublime when the subject requires it. Besides not saying anything but good things, they express themselves in terms that exclude, in the most absolute manner, all triviality. However good these teachings may be, if they are stained by a single expression that exudes baseness, this is an indubitable sign of inferiority, above all if the whole of the communication offends propriety by its coarseness. The language always reveals its origin, whether by the thought it conveys or by the form; and even if a Spirit wished to deceive us as to its pretended superiority, it would suffice to converse with it for some time to see that it betrays itself, for it does not sustain what it says. The following fact has been reproduced many times in the course of our long and numerous studies. We were conversing with a Spirit whose character and language are well known to us. Another Spirit, more or less elevated, was present and, without being solicited, took part in the conversation. Now, before it had stated its name, the difference of style was so evident that each of those present said at once: It is no longer the other one speaking. Among men one would judge no differently. For this, it is enough to hear them, even though we do not see them. Suppose that in a room adjoining the one in which you are there are several Spirits whom you do not know and whom you cannot see. By their conversation you would immediately judge whether they are uncouth or persons of refined manners, ignorant or learned, evildoers or men of good.

Goodness and benevolence are still essential attributes of purified Spirits. They have hatred neither for men nor for other Spirits. They lament their weaknesses, criticize their errors, but always with moderation, without gall and without animosity. This as regards the moral side. We can judge them equally by the nature of their intelligence. A Spirit can be good, benevolent, teach nothing but good, and possess limited knowledge, because its development is still incomplete. We are not referring to notoriously inferior Spirits; to ask them for an explanation of certain things would be pure waste of time. This would be equivalent to asking a pupil of basic schooling what he thinks of Aristotle or of the Cosmos. But there are Spirits that, on certain subjects, appear enlightened, whereas, on other questions, they betray the most absolute ignorance, on account of the most absurd scientific heresies, which they defend. A Spirit of this kind will reason very sensibly on one point and will say foolish things about another. It is again as among us: an astronomer is learned in what concerns the stars and may be very ignorant in architecture, in music, in painting, in agriculture, etc. All this denotes, evidently, an imperfect evolution, which does not mean that it is a bad Spirit. To judge the Spirits, as to judge men, one must, before all else, know how to judge oneself. Unfortunately there are many persons who take their personal opinion as the exclusive measure of the good and the bad, of the true and the false. Everything that contradicts their way of seeing, their ideas, the systems they have conceived or adopted, is bad in their eyes. Such persons evidently lack the first quality for a just appreciation: rectitude of judgment; but they do not perceive it. It is the defect responsible for the greatest illusions.

It is generally believed that by interrogating the Spirit of a man who was learned in a given specialty when on Earth, one will obtain the truth with more security. This is logical and, nevertheless, is not always true. Experience demonstrates that scientists, as much as other men, above all those who left the Earth a short time ago, are still under the dominion of the prejudices of corporeal life; they do not free themselves immediately from the spirit of system. It is, then, possible that, under the influence of the ideas they cherished in life and of which they made a title of glory, they see less clearly than we think. We do not give this principle as a rule, absolutely. We say only that this is observed, and that, consequently, the human science with which they are endowed is not always a proof of their infallibility as Spirits. Those who, as often happens, condemn in the condition of Spirits the doctrines they had sustained as men, always give, by this, a proof of elevation. As a general rule: the Spirit is the less perfect the less detached it is from matter. Therefore, every time one recognizes in it the persistence of the false ideas that preoccupied it during life, whether they belong to the physical order or to the moral order, it is an infallible sign that it is not completely dematerialized. The obstinacy in earthly ideas is the greater the more recent the death is. At the moment of death, the soul is always in a state of disturbance during which it scarcely recognizes itself; it is an awakening that is not complete: I do not know where I am; everything is confused to me. Such is its constant reply. Some complain of having been disturbed so soon; others say curtly that they should be left in peace and, according to their character, express this thought in more or less courteous terms. Many Spirits do not believe that they have died, chiefly the executed, the suicides, and, in general, those who perished by violent death. They see their own body, know that this body belongs to them, and do not understand why they are separated from it. This surprises them; they need some time to realize their new situation. The evocation cannot be made at that moment except as an object of psychological studies; but it is not the case to ask them for information.

This state of confusion, which can be compared to the transitory state from sleep to waking, persists for a more or less long time. We have seen some Spirits that had detached themselves completely at the end of three or four days, while others were not yet so even after several months. One follows their progressive march with interest, one assists in some manner at the awakening of their soul; the questions addressed to them, if made with measure, prudence, circumspection, and benevolence, even help them to free themselves. If they suffer and we have compassion for their pain, this relieves them. When death is natural, that is, when it occurs through the gradual extinction of the vital forces, the soul is already partially detached before the complete cessation of organic life, and recognizes itself more readily. The same happens with men who, during life, raised themselves by thought above material things. Already in this world they belong, in a certain manner, to the world of the Spirits; the passage from one to the other is made rapidly and the disturbance is of short duration. Once detached from the remains of its corporeal garments, the soul finds itself in its normal state of Spirit; only then can it be judged, because it presents itself truly as it is. Its qualities and defects, its imperfections and prejudices, its prepossessions, its false, petty, or ridiculous ideas, persist without modifying themselves throughout the entire duration of its wandering life, even were this a thousand years. It must pass again through the crucible of corporeal life, in order to leave there some impurities and raise itself a few more degrees. We have seen some that, after 200 years of wandering life, still have the manias and pettinesses that characterized them in life, while others exhibit almost immediately a great superiority.

With regard to the transitional state we have just described, we were referring to suffering Spirits. It will naturally be asked whether this moment is painful. We do not intend to treat the question of the suffering of the Spirits, much less to examine its nature. This question will have its place in the Review. We will limit ourselves, then, to saying that, for the man of good, for him who falls asleep in the peace of a pure conscience and fears no scrutinizing gaze, the awakening is always calm, gentle, and serene. For him whose conscience is burdened with faults, for the material man who placed all his joys in the satisfaction of the body, for him who squandered the favors that Providence had bestowed upon him, such an awakening is terrible. Yes, these Spirits suffer at the moment when they leave life; they suffer greatly, and this suffering can last as long as their wandering life. By the fact of being moral, this pain is no less poignant, because it is not always given to them to see its term; they suffer until a ray of hope comes to shine before their eyes, and this hope we can cause to be born by conversing with them. Good words, testimonies of sympathy are for them a relief to which the good Spirits can contribute, whom we call to our aid to second our intentions. A suicide evoked a short time after his death described his tortures to us. How long will this last? he was asked. — I have not the slightest idea, and it is that which drives me to despair. A Superior Spirit who was present then said, spontaneously: “It will last until the natural term of the life that he voluntarily interrupted.” — Many thanks! said the other, for what the one who is there has just informed me.

We will end this chapter with an essential observation. The picture we have just traced is not the result of a theory, nor of a more or less ingenious philosophical system. All that we have said, we obtained from the Spirits themselves, whom we interrogated, and it was they who answered us, often in a manner contrary to our primitive convictions. We did with the Spirits what the anatomist does with the human body: we brought the scalpel of investigation to countless “cadavers.” We were not content with making them speak: we probed all the recesses of their existence, at least as much as it was possible for us to do; we followed them from the instant when they breathed the last sigh of corporeal life to the moment when they re-entered it; we studied their language, their customs, thoughts, and sentiments, as the physician auscultates the pulsations of a sick person, and in this moral clinic where all the phases of spirit life passed beneath our eyes, we observed and compared. If, on the one hand, we saw horrible wounds, we also saw, on the other, great grounds for consolation. Once again, it was not we who imagined all these things; it was the Spirits themselves who described themselves. For whoever wishes to enter into relation with them, it is important to know them well, in order to be in a condition to appreciate their situation and better understand their language, which, without this, could sometimes appear contradictory. This is why we have dwelt somewhat at length on this chapter.