SECOND SIGHT.

Since in the somnambulistic state the manifestations of the soul become, in a certain way, ostensible, it would be absurd to suppose that in the normal state it finds itself confined, absolutely, within its envelope, like the snail in its shell. It is by no means the magnetic influence that develops it; that influence does nothing more than render it manifest through the action it exercises upon the bodily organs. Now, the somnambulistic state is not always an indispensable condition of this manifestation. The faculties that reveal themselves in this state sometimes develop spontaneously, in the normal state, in certain individuals. There results from this for them the faculty of seeing distant things, wherever the soul extends its action; they see, if we may use this expression, through ordinary sight; and the scenes they describe, the facts they narrate present themselves to them like the effects of a mirage. It is the phenomenon to which the name of second sight is given. In somnambulism, clairvoyance derives from the same cause; the difference is that, in that state, it is isolated, independent of bodily sight, whereas it is simultaneous in those who are endowed with this faculty in the waking state. Second sight is almost never permanent. In general, the phenomenon is produced spontaneously, at certain moments, without being by effect of the will, and provokes a kind of crisis that sometimes appreciably modifies the physical state. The individual seems to look without seeing; his whole countenance reflects a kind of exaltation.

It is to be noted that persons endowed with this faculty do not suspect they possess it. It appears to them natural, like that of seeing with the eyes. They consider it an attribute of their being and never an exceptional thing. It must be added that very often forgetfulness follows this passing lucidity, the remembrance of which, ever more imprecise, ends by vanishing like that of a dream.

There are infinite degrees in the potentiality of second sight, from the confused sensation to the perception as distinct as in somnambulism. There is a lack of a term to designate this special state and, above all, the individuals susceptible of experiencing it. The word seer has been used, which, although it does not express the idea with exactness, we shall adopt until further notice, for want of a better one.

If we now compare the phenomena of second sight with those of somnambulistic clairvoyance, we shall understand that the seer can perceive things that lie beyond the reach of his ordinary vision, in the same way that the somnambulist sees, at a distance, follows the course of events, appraises their tendency, and, in certain cases, foresees their outcome.

This gift of second sight, in a rudimentary state, is what gives certain persons tact, perspicacity, a kind of assurance in their acts, which may justly be called: a moral coup d'œil. More developed, it awakens presentiments; still more developed, it makes one see events that have already taken place, or that are about to take place; finally, when it reaches its apogee, it is waking ecstasy.

As we have already said, the phenomenon of second sight is almost always natural and spontaneous; it seems, however, that it occurs more frequently under the sway of certain circumstances. Times of crisis, of calamity, of great emotions, all, in short, that overexcites the moral nature, provokes its development. One would say that Providence, in the face of imminent dangers, multiplies around creatures the faculty of foreseeing them.

Seers there have always been in all times and in all nations, it seeming, nevertheless, that some peoples are more naturally predisposed to have them. It is said that in Scotland the gift of second sight is very common. Its existence is noticed among the country folk and those who dwell in the mountains.

Seers have been variously regarded, according to the times, the customs, and the degree of civilization. For the skeptics, they are nothing more than deranged brains, hallucinated persons; the religious sects raised them up as prophets, sibyls, oracles; in the centuries of superstition and ignorance, they were sorcerers and ended at the stake. For the sensible man, who believes in the infinite power of Nature and in the inexhaustible goodness of the Creator, double sight is a faculty inherent in the human species, by means of which God reveals to us the existence of our spiritual essence. Who would not recognize a gift of this nature in Joan of Arc and in a whole multitude of other personages whom history qualifies as inspired?

Much has been said of persons who, laying out cards, have told things of surprising truth. We by no means claim to make ourselves the apologist of the readers of the “buena-dicha” who exploit the credulity of weak spirits and whose ambiguous language lends itself to all the combinations of a shaken imagination; but it is not entirely impossible that certain persons, making an occupation of it, have the gift of second sight, even in spite of themselves. This being so, the cards, in their hands, are nothing more than a means, a pretext, a basis of conversation. They speak according to what they see and not according to what the cards indicate, at which they merely glance.

The same occurs with other means of divination, such as the lines of the hand, the white of an egg, and other mystic symbols. The signs of the hands perhaps have more value than all the other means, not in themselves, but because, in taking and feeling the hand of the consulter, the supposed diviner, if he is endowed with double sight, establishes a more direct relation with him, as occurs in somnambulistic consultations.

The seeing mediums may be included in the category of persons who possess double sight. Indeed, just as the latter do, the former think they see with their eyes, but, in reality, it is the soul that sees, and for this reason they see as well with their eyes open as with their eyes closed. It follows, necessarily, that a blind person could be a seeing medium, as much as one who has perfect sight. It would constitute an interesting study to inquire whether this faculty is more frequent in the blind. We are led to believe it, given that, as can be verified experimentally, the deprivation of communicating with the exterior environment, for want of certain senses, generally confers greater power upon the soul's faculty of abstraction and, consequently, greater development upon the inner sense by which it puts itself in relation with the spiritual world. The seeing mediums may, then, be identified with persons who enjoy spiritual sight; but it would perhaps be too much to consider these persons as mediums, since mediumship is characterized solely by the intervention of the Spirits, and what someone does by himself cannot be held to be a mediumistic act. He who possesses spiritual sight sees by his own Spirit, the concurrence of an external Spirit not being necessary for the emergence of his faculty.

This being established, let us examine to what point the faculty of double sight may allow hidden things to be discovered and the future to be penetrated.

From all times, men have wished to know the future, and volumes could be written about the means that superstition has invented to raise the veil that covers our destiny. Nature was very wise in hiding it from us. Each of us has his providential mission in the great human hive and contributes to the common work in his sphere of activity. If we knew beforehand the end of each thing, it is beyond doubt that the general harmony would be disturbed. The assurance of a happy future would take from man all activity, since he would need to employ no effort to attain the object he always aims at: his well-being. All physical and moral forces would be paralyzed. The certainty of misfortune would produce the same consequences, by virtue of the discouragement that would seize the creature. No one would be disposed to struggle against the definitive sentence of destiny. The absolute knowledge of the future would therefore be a fatal gift, which would lead us to the dogma of fatality, the most dangerous of all, the most antipathetic to the development of ideas. It is the uncertainty as to the moment of our end in this world that makes us work until the last beat of our heart. The traveler carried by a vehicle gives himself up to the movement that will make him arrive at the point sought, without thinking to impose upon it any deviation, being certain of his powerlessness to achieve it. The same would occur with the man who knew his irrevocable destiny. If seers could infringe this law of Providence, they would equal the Divinity. For this very reason, that is not the mission that falls to them. In the phenomenon of double sight, since the soul finds itself partially freed from the material covering that limits its faculties, there is no duration, nor distance; since it is given to it to embrace space and time, everything is confounded for it in the present. Free from the hindrances of the flesh, it judges of effects and of causes better than we, who cannot do as much; it sees the consequences of present things and can lead us to foresee them. It is in this sense that the gift of prescience attributed to seers should be understood. Their previsions result from the soul's having a more distinct consciousness of what exists and not from a prediction of fortuitous things, without connection to the present. It is by logical deduction from the known that it arrives at the unknown, often dependent upon our manner of proceeding. When a danger threatens us, if we are warned, we are in a position to attempt everything that is necessary to avoid it, the freedom to do so or not being ours. In such a case, the seer has before him a danger that is hidden from us; he points it out, indicates the means of averting it, for otherwise the event follows its course.

Let us suppose that a carriage has set out upon a road that leads to a precipice that the driver cannot perceive. It is evident that, if nothing occurs to divert it, it will plunge there. Let us suppose also that a man placed so as to descry the road in all its extent, seeing the danger the traveler runs, manages to warn him in time for him to turn aside. The danger will be averted. From his position, dominating the space, the observer sees what the traveler, whose vision the features of the terrain circumscribe, cannot descry. He can see whether a fortuitous cause will hinder the fall of the other; he then knows, beforehand, what will happen and predicts the event.

Let us imagine that this man, from the height of a mountain, descries far off, along the road, an enemy troop heading toward a village to which it intends to set fire. It will be easy for him, taking into account the space and the speed, to foresee when the troop will arrive. If, then, descending to the village, he says only: At such an hour the village will be set ablaze, should the fact occur, he will pass, in the eyes of the ignorant multitude, for a diviner, a sorcerer; meanwhile, he merely saw what the others could not see and deduced, from what he had seen, the consequences.

Now, the seer, like that man, apprehends and follows the course of events; he does not foresee their result because he possesses the gift of divining: he sees it and, from then on, can tell you whether you are on the right path, indicate to you a better one, and announce what you will encounter at the end of the one you are following. He is, for you, the thread of Ariadne, showing the way out of the labyrinth.

As may be seen, this is far from prediction properly so called, as we understand it in the vulgar acceptation of the term. Nothing has been taken from the free will of man, who always retains the liberty to act or not, to avoid or to let the events happen, by his will or by his inertia; a means of reaching the end is indicated to him, and it falls to him to make use of it. To suppose him subjected to an inexorable fatality, with respect to the least events of life, is to strip him of his finest attribute: intelligence; it is to assimilate him to the brute. The seer, then, is not a diviner; he is a being who perceives what we do not see; he is, for us, the blind man's dog. There is nothing in this, therefore, that runs counter to the designs of Providence regarding the secret of our destiny; it is Providence itself that gives us a guide. Such is the point of view from which the knowledge of the future, on the part of persons endowed with double sight, should be considered. If this future were fortuitous, if it depended on what is called chance, if it had no connection with present circumstances, no clairvoyance could penetrate it and no certainty, in that case, would any prevision offer. The seer (we refer to him who truly is one), the serious seer and not the charlatan who pretends to be one, the true seer, does not tell what the common people call “buena-dicha”; he merely foresees the consequences that will flow from the present; nothing more, and that is already a great deal.

How many errors, how many false steps, how many useless attempts would we not avoid, if we always had a sure guide to enlighten us; how many men find themselves out of place in life, for not having set out upon the path that Nature had traced for their faculties! How many suffer failures for having followed the counsels of an unreflecting obstinacy! A person could have told them: “Do not undertake this, because your intellectual faculties are insufficient, because it does not suit your character, nor your physical constitution, or, again, because you will not be supported, as would be necessary; or else, because you are mistaken about the scope of what you intend and you will meet with this obstacle that you do not foresee.” In other circumstances, he would have told them: “You will succeed in such an undertaking, if you conduct yourselves in this or that manner; if you avoid taking such a step that cannot but compromise you.” Sounding their dispositions and characters, he could say: “Beware of such a snare that they wish to prepare for you,” adding, thereupon: “You are warned, I have done what fell to me; I have shown you the danger; if you succumb, do not accuse fate, nor fatality, nor Providence; accuse only yourselves. What can the physician do, when the patient pays no heed to his counsels?”