Ghosts (article 23 september 1928)
Ghosts is an article written by Chapman Cohen published in The Freethinker on 23 september 1928.
Chapman Cohen (1868-1954) was the President of the N.S.S. (National Secular Society).
Ghosts
As is only proper in the capital city of the Empire, there are all sorts of museums in London. Among the latest is the Psychic Museum, established by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in which are stored some of the wonders of the spiritual world. There are no preserved ghosts there, but there are portraits of them. And who would doubt the reality of ghosts after secing their portraits! Still, there are many manifestations of spirit agency there, which are as impressive as the ink on the wall of the castle of Wurtzburg, caused by the ink-bottle which Martin Luther threw at the devil, and which for long served as indisputable evidence of the existence of Satan. Spiritualists, one may assume, travel from all parts of the country, even from all parts of the world, to see these "psychic" exhibits, and their faith is strengthened by such direct contact with the denizens of the "Summerland." Frankly, I believe the evidence of ghosts stored up in the Psychic Museum to be as convincing as any evidence that has ever been brought before the public.
On the afternoon of September 13, there were "doings" in the Psychic Museum. In a darkened basement Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, agent-in-chief ghosts, fairies, and the like, sat by the side of a large picture, nine feet by four feet six inches, strongly illuminated by an electric lamp. The picture depicted spirits, good and bad, crossing the river Styx, and afterwards breaking into two groups, one taking its way to "the gloomy ravines of perdition," the other up the "rugged heights of eternal glory." To the people present Sir Arthur Conan Doyle explained:—
The picture was painted after a seance in which the artist received indubitable proof of the truth of Spiritualism. He worked for nine hours under strong psychic inspiration, and in that time completed the greater part of this wonderful composition.
One can imagine the delighted gasps of the assembled Spiritualists. How could anyone doubt the reality of the spirit world in the face of such evidence? If only someone under "psychic inspiration" could be brought to paint the whole of my house from top to bottom in the same time, I should be tempted to say that I also believed in spirit influence.
Getting the Pacts.
Fortunately, the painter of the picture, Mr. Longstaffe, is still alive. A less hasty man than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would have waited till the artist was dead, and then "revealed" the truth to the world. But the artist is still with us, and Spiritualism is not yet so well established, or wealthy enough, to prevent our newspapers criticizing it. So the Daily Express interviewed Mr. Longstaffe and, in its issue for September 14, reported what he said. Mr. Longstaffe "seemed surprised" at being interviewed, and when questioned about his spirit experience said:—
- "There is nothing remarkable about it. It is quite true that I did attend a seance at Sir Arthur's flat, and I must say that I was impressed with what happened. Three days later, at Sir Arthur's suggestion, I painted 'The Eternal March.'
- "Unless you can call the inspiration under which an artist always works psychic, there was nothing unusual in the way I painted this picture.
- "It is quite true that I executed the work in nine hours. I worked on it all night, but there is nothing unusual in that. When I start on a picture I always continue working on it until it is finished. My picture of the Meniu Gate took me a night and a day.
- "The idea of the picture was suggested to me by Sir Arthur himself in several conversations. When it was finished, at his suggestion, I made some minor alterations.
- "I regard it as an excellent composition, depicting the march of the human race, and nothing more."
This and That!
Now here is a very curious situation. Sir Arthur says the picture was painted after a seance at which the artist received "indubitable proof" of the truth of Spiritualism. Mr. Longstaffe says he was merely "impressed" by what he saw. The two things are hardly the same on earth, although they may be in "Summerland." Our advance agent for ghosts says that the picture was painted under "strong psychic inspiration." Mr. Longstaff says there was nothing of the kind in operation, unless one can call the inspiration under which an artist works, "psychic." (Perhaps one should remind readers that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as a "psychic expert," ought to know better than Mr. Longstaffe what influences are operating on him.) Mr. Longstaffe admits that he did the work in nine hours, but adds that this is his usual way of working, and when lie starts a picture he
keeps on till he finishes it. But how are the poor spirits to know that; and who can wonder, if they see an artist working in this way, that they attribute such excessive speed to ghostly influence? But the most curious thing is that Sir Arthur sees "psychic influence" in the painting of the picture, directly after a seance in which Mr. Longstaffe was converted to Spiritualism (although Mr. Longstaffe says he wasn't and that it was not the spirits that suggested the picture, but Sir Arthur himself). In the course of conversation Sir Arthur also suggested some minor alterations. Finally, Mr. Longstaffe says that the picture has nothing to do with spirits. It merely depicts the march of the human race, and "nothing more." It is all very wonderful, and probably Sir Arthur will retort that the psychic influence came through him, and if Mr. Longstaffe does not recognize the ghostly "urge," it is because his mind is not attuned to the heavenly spheres.
The Reign of Credulity.
In such fantastical circumstances it is not easy to keep a straight face, but I will endeavour to treat the situation seriously. In the first place, let me say that I do not believe Sir Arthur was deliberately telling a falsehood. He evidently had convinced himself that the artist had been converted to Spiritualism, that "psychic" influence was responsible for the picture (he would protect himself from much of this kind of thing if, instead of using the quasi-scientific term "psychic," he used the plain word, "ghosts"), and he had probably forgotten his own suggestion to the artist as to painting the picture. When a man has worked his mind into a certain state he is ready to believe anything. And we must remember that Sir Arthur has made himself responsible for the accuracy of certain children's stories of having seen fairies sitting on leaves, and has been satisfied with portraits of them. One may recall the famous story of the Mons angels. Mr. Arthur Machen wrote a purely imaginary story of some British soldiers who, at a critical point in a certain battle saw some angels fighting on the side of the British, and thus turned the tide against the Germans. At once, men like the Bishop of London, Dr. Horton, and others began to cite the story as proof that Heaven was on our side. They even collected the testimony of soldiers, some of whom saw the angels, others of whom felt some mysterious influence. The tales in support began to accumulate so rapidly that Mr. Machen wrote stating that he never intended, and never expected, that his story would be taken literally. He said in the plainest possible language that from beginning to end the whole story was pure invention. But a lot of the parsons would not have it. They insisted that it was true, that Mr. Machen had written the story under "psychic" influence. It only required a little more for this tale to take its place as literal history, and to be handed down in the form of a new chapter in religious history.
Psychology for "Psychics."
Now I do not for a moment believe that all the men who testified to the reality of the angels were deliberately lying. Some were, but I am not concerned with the frank liar. It is the man who persuades himself that he has seen what is not there to see, the man who believes his own falsehood to be the truth, that presents the problem. Some of these angel-seeing soldiers thought they had seen the angels when the vision was suggested to them. Sir Arthur believed the artist painted his picture under the influence of ghosts because he already believed in them and was ready to see ghostly agency everywhere. And under the mastery of this belief, the fact that he himself suggested the painting of the picture was, as every up-to-date psychologist will appreciate, quite forgotten, forced out of his conscious ness to make room for the "psychic" action. For when a man is acting and living obsessed by an over mastering belief, he will see evidences of it everywhere, just as a man who is suffering from persecutory mania will see all sorts of plots against him in the most harmless movements of those around him. Given a mind in this state and it becomes credulous, on the lines of its obsession, to an almost unbelievable degree. It is this that accounts for men seeing visions of devils, of angels, of all kinds of spirits, long as the frame of the individual mind or the social atmosphere is favourable to their being seen. Against such an obsession argument is almost useless. They are cases for psychological study; they are not cases for the most careful of logical demonstration. Against an obsession, logic is almost powerless.
The Force of an Obsession.
Often during my lectures up and down the country I am asked by some Spiritualist in the audience: "Can you explain———?" and then follows some wonderful experience for which an explanation is asked. I always refuse even to attempt to answer such inquiries. First, because the question as asked admits of only one answer, and that is the one the questioner wants. It is almost like asking, "Can you explain how the man who stole the watch was innocent of stealing?" Secondly, I do not reply because I have a very lively sense of the extreme fallibility of human testimony. The man who tells a story very nearly always dramatizes his narrative so as to produce a particular, a desired, effect. And by heightening the lights here and there, by darkening the shadows, by ignoring certain details, and by over-emphasizing others, he manages to produce a picture which, while not obviously false in any part, is false as a whole. Sir Arthur's stories of ghostly intercourse, personal and collected, mostly belong to this class. He accepts them under the dominance of the obsession that we are surrounded by myriads of ghosts. He is ready to see their action everywhere, and he finds it everywhere. I could give columns of statements from monks and nuns belonging to the golden age of Christian belief, in which the action of devils was detected in every ailment, in every pain, when even the attacks of vermin that kept the unwashed saint from sleeping at night were clear evidence of the action of the devil. Under the dominance of such obsessions logic loses its force, and reason becomes little more than an instrument in their service. There is nothing very puzzling in in the case of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And, unhappily, in some form or another, nothing in it that is strikingly unusual.
CHAPMAN COHEN.
