Spiritist Novels.

– He who says novel says a work of imagination. It is of the very essence of the novel to represent a fictitious subject, as regards the facts and characters. But in this same genre of productions there are rules from which good sense does not permit one to depart, and which, joined to the qualities of style, constitute its merit. If the details are not true in themselves, they must at least be plausible and in perfect accord with the setting in which the action takes place.

In historical novels, for example, the strict maintenance of local color is imperative, and there are anachronisms that would not be tolerable. The reader must be able to transport himself, in thought, to the times and places of which one speaks, and to form a just idea of them. Therein lay the great talent of Walter Scott; reading him, we find ourselves in the full Middle Ages. Had he attributed the deeds and gestures of Francis I to Louis XI, or even had he made this king and the characters of his court speak as in the time of the Renaissance, not even the finest style would have been able to redeem such errors.

The same thing happens in novels of manners. Their merit lies in the variety of the scenes, for it would be the height of the ridiculous to lend a Spanish subject the habits and character of an Englishman.

At first sight, the novel appears to be the easiest genre. We consider it more difficult than History, though less serious. The historian has the framework traced out by the facts, from which he cannot depart by a single line; the novelist must create everything; but many think that a little imagination and style are enough to make a good novel. This is a grave error; much instruction is needed. To write his Notre-Dame de Paris, Victor Hugo had to know his old archaeological Paris as well as his modern Paris.

One can write novels about Spiritism, as about all things. We even say that Spiritism, when it is known and understood in all its essence, will furnish letters and the arts with inexhaustible sources of enchanting poetry. But surely it will not be for those who see it only in turning tables, in the ropes of the Davenport brothers, or in the trickery of charlatans. As in historical novels or novels of manners, it is indispensable to know thoroughly the canvas upon which one wishes to embroider, in order not to commit blunders, which would be so many proofs of ignorance; like the musician who produces variations on a musical theme and is recognized by the additions of fancy. He, then, who has not studied Spiritism thoroughly, in its spirit, in its tendencies, in its maxims, as much as in its material forms, is as unfit to write a Spiritist novel of any value as Lesage would have been to write Gil Blas, had he not known the history and customs of Spain. For this, then, is it necessary to be a believing and fervent Spiritist? By no means; it is enough to be truthful, and one cannot be so without knowing. To write an Arab novel it is surely not necessary to be a Muslim, but it is indispensable to know enough of the Muslim religion, its character, its dogmas, and its practices, as well as the customs deriving from them, so as not to make the Africans act and speak like French gentlemen. But there are those who judge it sufficient, in order to give the stamp of the race, to lavish at random the names of Allah, of Fatima, and of Zulema, for that is more or less all they know of Islamism. In a word, one need not be a Muslim, but one must be imbued with the Muslim spirit, just as, to write a Spiritist work, even a fantastical one, one must be imbued with the spirit of Spiritism. In short, it is necessary that, in reading a Spiritist novel, Spiritists be able to recognize themselves, just as the Arabs must be able to recognize themselves in an Arab novel and be able to say: this is it. But neither the ones nor the others will recognize themselves if disguises are used; their author will have made a grotesque work, exactly as if a painter were to paint Frenchwomen in Chinese costumes.

– These reflections are suggested to us in connection with the serial novel that Mr. Théophile Gautier is at this moment publishing in the great Moniteur, under the title of Spirite. We have not the honor of knowing the author personally; we do not know what his convictions or his knowledge are regarding Spiritism; his work, which is still in its beginnings, does not permit us to see its conclusion. We will say only that if he were to view his subject from a single point of view alone – that of the manifestations – neglecting the philosophical and moral side of the doctrine, he would not correspond to the general and complex idea that his title embraces, even though the name Spirite is that of one of his characters. If the facts that he imagines, for the needs of the action, were not contained within the limits traced by experience; if he were to present them as taking place under inadmissible conditions, his work would fail in truth and would lead one to suppose that Spiritists believe in the marvels of the tales of the Thousand and One Nights. If he were to attribute to Spiritists practices and beliefs that they disapprove of, it would not be impartial and, from this point of view, would not be a serious literary work. The Spiritist Doctrine is not secret, like that of Freemasonry. It has no mysteries for anyone and exposes itself to the light of publicity; it is neither mystical, nor abstract, nor ambiguous, but clear and within everyone's reach; having nothing allegorical, it can be neither a cause of misunderstanding nor of false interpretations; it says clearly what it admits and what it does not admit; the phenomena whose possibility it recognizes are neither supernatural nor marvelous, but founded on the laws of Nature, so that it performs neither miracles nor prodigies. He, then, who does not know it, or who is mistaken as to its tendencies, is so because he does not wish to take the trouble to know it. This clarity and this popularization of Spiritist principles, which count adherents in all countries and in all classes of society, are the most peremptory refutation of the diatribes of its adversaries, for there is not a single one of their erroneous allegations that does not meet with a categorical answer. Spiritism can only gain by being known, and that is what those work toward, without wishing it, who think to annihilate it by attacks devoid of any serious argument. The lapses of propriety in language produce an effect entirely contrary to the one intended; the public appreciates them, and not in favor of those who permit themselves such things; the more violent the aggression, the more people are led to inform themselves of the truth, and this even within the ranks of hostile literature. The calm of the Spiritists in the face of this uproar; the composure and dignity they have preserved in their replies, form, with the acrimony of their antagonists, a contrast that shocks even the indifferent and has cast uncertainty into the opposing ranks, which today count some desertions. The Spiritist novel may be regarded as a passing transition between denial and affirmation. Real courage is needed to confront and defy the ridicule that attaches to new ideas, but that courage comes with conviction. Later – we are convinced – from the ranks of our adversaries of the press there will emerge serious champions of the doctrine.

When the tendencies of Mr. Théophile Gautier's work are better delineated, we will offer him our appreciation from the point of view of Spiritist truth.

– The above reflections naturally apply to works of the same genre concerning magnetism and somnambulism. Recently, second sight furnished Mr. Élie Berthet with the subject of a very interesting novel, published by the Siècle, which, to the talent of the writer, joins the merit of exactness. The author must incontestably have made a serious study of this faculty; to describe it as he does, one must have seen and observed. Nevertheless, one could reproach him with a certain exaggeration in the extent he gives it in some cases. Another error, in our opinion, is to present it as a disease. Now, a natural faculty, whatever it may be, can coincide with a pathological state, but, of itself, it is not a disease, and the proof of this is that a number of persons endowed with second sight in the highest degree enjoy perfect health. The heroine here is a young woman who is tubercular and cataleptic: that is her true ailment. The faculty she enjoys caused misfortune through the deceptions that followed, which is why she deplores the fatal gift she received. But this gift was fatal only through the ignorance, inexperience, and imprudence of those who used it clumsily. From this point of view there is not a single one of our faculties that cannot become a fatal gift, through the bad use or the false applications that may be made of it. With these reservations made, we will say that the phenomenon is described to perfection. It is indeed that vision of the freed soul, which knows no distances, which penetrates matter as a ray of light penetrates transparent bodies, and which is the patent and visible proof of the existence and the independence of the spiritual principle; it is, even more, the picture of the strange transfiguration that takes place in ecstasy, of that prodigious lucidity which astounds by its precision in certain cases, and which disconcerts by the illusions it sometimes produces. In the actors of the drama, it is the truest painting of the sentiments that stir believers, the incredulous, the undecided, and the bewildered. There is a physician who wavers between skepticism and belief, but who, as a man of good sense who does not believe that Science has said its last word, observes, studies, and verifies the facts. His conduct during the young woman's crises attests to his prudence. There is also the discredit of the exploiters, who are justly castigated there. The author would have made an incomplete work had he neglected the moral side of the question. His aim is not to excite curiosity with extraordinary facts, but to draw from them the useful and practical consequences. Among others, an episode proves that he has perfectly understood this part of his program.

The young seeress discovers in an underground vault important papers, which are to put an end to a grave family lawsuit. She describes the places and the circumstances in minute detail. The excavations, made according to her indications, prove that she saw very well. The papers are found and the lawsuit is annulled. Let us note in passing that she made this discovery spontaneously, drawn by the interest that binds her to the family, and not through solicitations. The principal title consisted of a letter in an old style, of which she makes the literal and complete reading with as much ease as if she had it before her eyes. It is here, above all, that her faculty seems to us a little exaggerated.

Further on she sees another underground vault, where there are immense treasures, whose origin she explains. To reach it one must cross another tomb, full of human remains, the mortal remains of numerous victims of the times of feudalism. Up to this point, there is nothing that is not probable; what is not probable at all is that the souls of these victims should have remained shut up there for centuries and could rise up threatening before those who came to disturb their somber repose in search of a treasure; there is the fantastical. If it were the executioners, there would be nothing surprising. We know, from numerous examples, that such is, often, the temporary punishment of the guilty, condemned to remain in the same place and in the presence of their crimes, until, touched by repentance, they raise their thoughts to God to implore His mercy. But here it is the innocent victims who would be punished, which is not rational. The owner of the castle, an old miser, attracted by the discovery of the papers, wishes to continue the excavations. They are difficult, dangerous for the workmen, but nothing stops him. In vain the seeress beseeches him to give it up; she predicts that, if he persists, misfortune will follow. Besides, she adds, you will not succeed. – Then these treasures do not exist? says the miser. – They exist just as I described them, I assure you; but, once again, you will not reach them. – And who will prevent me? – The souls that are in the tomb that must be crossed.

The old miser, a hardened skeptic, perfectly admitted the girl's extracorporeal sight, even without quite understanding it, because he had just had a proof at his own expense: that of the papers found, although they did not correspond to his claims in the lawsuit; but he believed more in money than in invisible forces. And he continues: By what right will they oppose me? These treasures belong to me, since they are on my property. – No; one day they will easily be discovered by him who is to enjoy them; but it is not to you that they are destined. That is why you will not succeed. I repeat: if you persist, a misfortune will follow.

Here is the essentially moral, instructive, and true side of the account. These words seem taken from The Mediums' Book, in the article on the concurrence of the Spirits in the discovery of treasures: “If Providence destines hidden treasures to someone, that person will find them naturally; otherwise, not.” (Chapter XXVI, no. 295.) Indeed, there is no example of Spirits or somnambulists having facilitated such discoveries, any more than the recovery of inheritances, and all those who, lulled by this hope, made such attempts, lost time and money. Sad and cruel disappointments await those who fix their hope of enrichment upon such means. It is not the mission of the Spirits to favor covetousness and to procure us wealth without labor, which would be neither just nor moral. Doubtless the lucid somnambulist sees, but only what he is permitted to see, and the Spirits can, according to circumstances and by superior order, obliterate his lucidity, or interpose obstacles to the realization of things that are not within the designs of Providence. In the case in question, it was permitted to find the papers, which were to put an end to the family discords, and not to find treasures, which would serve only for the satisfaction of covetousness. This is why the old miser perished, a victim of his obstinacy. The terrible vicissitudes of the drama imagined by Mr. Élie Berthet are not as fantastical as one might imagine. They recall the very real ones suffered by Mr. Borreau, of Niort, in researches of the same nature, the moving account of which is found in his pamphlet, entitled: How and Why I Became a Spiritist. (See our account in the Review of December 1864.)

Another instruction, no less important, stands out from Mr. Élie Berthet's book. The girl saw positive things, and in another grave circumstance she is mistaken, attributing a crime to an innocent person. What consequence does the author draw from this? Is it the denial of the faculty? No, for, alongside this, he proves it and arrives at this conclusion, justified by experience: the most proven lucidity is not infallible, and one could not trust it in an absolute manner, without verification. The vision, by the soul, of things that the body cannot see, proves the existence of the soul; that is already a very important result. But it is not given for the satisfaction of human passions.

Why, then, does the soul, in its state of emancipation, not always see truly? It is because, man being still imperfect, his soul cannot enjoy the prerogatives of perfection. However isolated, it participates in material influences, until its complete purification. This being so with disincarnate souls or Spirits, with all the more reason is it so with those that are still bound to corporeal life. This is what Spiritism makes known to those who take the trouble to study it.

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[Espirita — Google books, by Théophile Gautier. – La double vue — Google Books, par Élie Berthet]