Mediums’ Role in the
Communications
(Obtained by Mr. D’Ambel, a medium at the Society)
Regardless of the type of writing medium, mechanical, semi-mechanical
or simply intuitive, in essence our methods of communication
with them don’t vary much. In fact, our communication both with the
incarnate and disincarnate spirits occurs through our thoughts. These
thoughts don’t need to be coated by words to be understood by the spirits;
they all perceive the thoughts that we want to communicate to them, as
long as we address those thoughts to them, and because of their intellectual
faculties; that is to say, that such thinking can be understood by this
or that according to their development, while in others, these thoughts
do not awaken by any memories or any knowledge in the depths of their
hearts or brain, it is not perceptible for them. In this case, the incarnate
spirit that serves as a medium to us is more adequate to transmit our
thoughts to other incarnate spirits, although he might not understand
them, than a not much advanced disincarnate spirit in case we needed his intervention, because the Earthly person serves us physically with his
body as an instrument, something that a disincarnate and wandering
spirit cannot do.
When we are able to find a medium that is well equipped with knowledge
acquired in his present life and also with a wealth of knowledge
acquired in previous existences in a latent state that facilitates our communications
and we prefer that since our communication is much easier
than using a medium whose intelligence is limited and of insufficient
previous knowledge. We will clarify this through some precise and clear
explanations.
Our spirit to spirit communication is instantaneous with a medium
that has a current or previous intelligence well developed and the phenomenon
happens by a skill that is in the very nature of the spirit. In
that case we find the necessary conditions in the brain of the medium
that allows us to cover our thoughts with words that are acknowledged
by the medium, and that is in the case of intuitive, semi-mechanical
and purely mechanical medium. That is why whatever the diversity of
spirits that communicates through a given medium, the dictations thus
obtained always have some personal contribution from that particular
medium.
Yes, although the thought may be completely foreign to the medium;
although the subject may be derived from the usual circumstances of the
medium; and although what we want to say does not come from the medium
absolutely; he still influences the communication by the skills and
capabilities that are inherent to that person. It is the same as observing
a scenery through different lenses and filters, say green, white and blue.
Although the landscape or the observed objects are entirely independent
from one another they still keep a common shade that comes from the
lens filter.
Even better, the mediums may be compared to those glass bottles
filled with colored and transparent liquids found in pharmacies. We, from
our side, are like the rays of light that enlighten you about certain moral,
philosophical and intimate points of view, through the blue, green or red
mediums, so that our radiant rays of light are obliged to pass through
the more or less transparent glasses, of better or inferior quality, that is,
through more or less intelligent mediums, and those light beams cannot
reach their objectives but by coloring with the shades or the specific forms
and characteristics of those mediums.
Finally, and to end the comparison, we the spirits are like composers
of our own music or a musician that wants to improvise an aria but has
only a piano or a violin or flute or a bass or even a cheap whistle at hand.
It is undisputable that the piece will be better understood by the audience
with the piano, the flute or the violin. Although the sounds of the piano,
the violin and the bass are essentially different, our composition will still
be the same except for the nuances of the sound. However, if we only have
a whistle at our disposal, with only two holes below for funneling the air;
for us, there lies the difficulty.
In fact when we are obliged to use less advanced mediums, our work
is more tedious, more painful, for we are forced to employ inadequate
means and that is more complicated for us, because we are then forced
to breakdown our thoughts and conduct, word for word, letter by letter,
which is annoying and tiresome and real obstacle to the speed and development
of our manifestations.
That is why we are so glad when we find suitable mediums, well equipped,
endowed with the necessary materials to be promptly used, in a word, good
instruments because then our perispirit acting upon the perispirit of that medium,
only needs to give the first impulse to the serving hand that holds
the pencil or the pen; while with the limited mediums we are obliged to do
similar work as when we communicate by rapping, that is, pointing out, letter
by letter, word by word, for each phrase that translates every thought that we
wish to communicate.
These are the reasons that lead us preferably to the more educated and
enlightened classes for the propagation of Spiritism and the development
of mediumistic writing faculties, although it is exactly in that social class
that we find the greatest numbers of doubters, rebellious and immoral
individuals. But it is the same as we leave to you today, the less advanced spirits produce tangible communications; the raps and movements of objects,
the same applies to those individuals among you who are less serious
and prefer phenomenon that impresses their eyes or their ears to those
that are purely spiritual and psychological.
When we wish to provide spontaneous dictations, we act with our
minds upon the brain of the medium, assembling our material with the
elements that we provide and all of it is unconsciously done to the medium.
It happens as if we were to take all the money from your pocket
and then arrange all the coins accordingly, to how we would feel the most
useful.
When the medium wishes to question us directly it is advisable that
he gives a lot of thought to that and proceeds in a methodical manner,
thus facilitating our work in providing the answers. For as Erastus told
you in the preceding instruction, your brain may often be in a state of
inextricable disorder and that for us it is a hard and painful process to
penetrate the labyrinth of your thoughts.
When the questions are to be asked by others, it is advisable and useful
that they be read to the medium first, so that it can be identified with
the evoked spirit, becoming permeated by it, so to speak; because that
then makes it much easier for us to respond by the affinity which now exists
between our perispirit and the medium that serves as our interpreter.
We can certainly talk about Math through a medium that knows
nothing about it. However, the medium may often have that knowledge
in a latent state, that is, characteristic of the invisible creature and not to
the incarnated one, because his current body may be a rebellious instrument
to that kind of knowledge. The same may be said of Astronomy,
Poetry, Medicine and the multiple languages, as with everything else related
to human knowledge. Finally there is the laborious work of putting
together letters and words, like in typography, utilized with mediums that
are completely unaware of the subject that is presented.
As we said before, the spirits don’t need to paint their thoughts. They
detect and transmit their thoughts just by the simple fact that they have
them. The corporeal beings, on the contrary, need the thoughts to be
coated. While you need the letter, the word, the noun, the verb, and the
full statement to understand something, even mentally, we do not need
any visible or tangible form.
Erastus and Timothy, spiritual guides of the medium
The Hospital
(Received by Mr. Didier, a medium at the Society)
I was strolling around the docks near Notre-Dame on a wintery evening;
a neighborhood of death and despair; as known by most poets; this
neighborhood, from the Court of Miracles to the Morgue, has always
been the receptacle of all human misery. Now that it is all in ruins, these
huge monuments of agony, that people called hospitals of l’Hôtel-Dieu
(Christian hospitals of The Hotel (house) of God) may collapse as well.
I watched the pale lights that pierced the dark walls and thought: How
many desperate deaths! What a common grave of thoughts which engulfs
us each day by changed hearts, so many have fallen innocent! It was
then that I thought, so many died as dreamers, poets, artists and scholars!
There is a narrow bridge-like corridor over the river that splashes loudly
below; that is the path of those who live no more. The dead then enter
through another building which on the front of it should be written as
the Doorway to Hell: This is the end of hope. It is there, in fact, that the
body is sliced up by Science but it is also there, that Science steals the last
breath of hope from faith.
No sooner than having taken a few steps, as I was absorbed by these
thoughts; as our thoughts travel faster than we do, I was approached by a
young man with a yellow appearance who was shivering and unceremoniously
asked me for a light for his pipe. He was a medical student. No
sooner said than done; I also smoked and established a conversation with
the stranger. Pale, emaciated and weakened by vigils, with a wide forehead
and sad eyes, these were my impressions of him. He seemed thoughtful
and we read each other’s mind.
• I have just come from doing a dissection, he said, but all I found
was matter. Oh! My God, he added in a cold blooded tone, if
you want to get rid of that strange disease called belief in the immortality
of the soul, come with me and see the daily dissolution
of that matter that we call the body, come and see how to turn
off these enthusiastic brains, the generous hearts that deteriorate;
come and see that they all find the same void. What foolishness
to believe!
I then asked him his age.
• I am twenty-four years old. I leave you now because it is too
cold.
I saw him leaving and asked myself: Is this the result of Science?
To be continued.
Gérard de Nerval
NOTE: A few days later Mrs. Costel received the following communication
in private, whose analogy with the preceding one carries a special
meaning.
One evening I strolled around the deserted docks. It was sunny and warm
and the golden stars stood out against the dark blue sky. The elegantly
rounded moon and its white ray shone like a smile upon the deep water.
The poplars, silent guardians of the banks, launched their slender forms,
while I passed by slowly, looking at the reflection of the stars in the water
and God’s reflection in the vastness of the vaulted blue. A woman walked
ahead of me and I followed her steps out of pure curiosity, my steps seemingly
regulated by hers. We walked like that for a long time. When we
then approached the façade of Hôtel-Dieu (Christian Hospital, House of
God) with its illuminated holes here and there the woman stopped, then
looked at me and said, as if I were her companion:
• My friend, do you believe that those who suffer here feel more
pain in their souls than in their bodies? Or do you believe that
physical pain extinguishes the divine spark?
• I believe, I said profoundly surprised, that for the majority of
the unfortunate people that suffer and agonize at this very moment,
the physical pain is their rest hence they forget their usual
misfortune.
• You are mistaken, friend, she said with a compassionate smile.
The illness is a supreme anguish to the disowned of this Earth,
to the poor, to the ignorant and to the abandoned ones. It does
not bring obliviousness but to those like you who only suffer the
nostalgia of the dreams and whose pains are crowned with violets.
I tried to respond but with a gesture she stopped me, and pointing her
hand towards the hospital she said:
• Unfortunate people struggle there, calculating the number of
hours that the disease stole from their paychecks; anguished
women think of the cabarets that stuns the pain and the husbands
who leave their hungry children behind; there, beyond, and everywhere the earthly concerns muffle and diminish the weak
spark of hope that finds no dwelling in those desolated souls.
God is even more forgotten by these miserable people torn apart
by their sufferings than he is in their normal toil. This happens
because God is too far away, too high in the skies, and misery is
very close. What to do then to allow those men and women to
leave their corporeal lives with dignity, instead of falling like insects;
or even, to help them mitigate their sorrow and desperation
when facing the battles of life and death? You, dreamer, you that
writes verses about the Moon, haven’t you given any thought to
this formidable problem than can only be resolved by two things:
charity and love?
That woman seemed to grow bigger and I felt divine goose bumps
running all over my body. She continued to speak and her great voice
seemed to fill the city with harmony:
• Listen up! She said. Go all of you, the powerful, the wealthy, the
intelligent ones, go and spread the good news. Tell the unfortunate
ones that God, their father, is no longer hidden in the inaccessible
heavens and that God is sending them back the spirits of
their lost loved ones, to console them and to help them out; that
their parents, mothers, children, sees them at their bedside, communicating
with them in a well-known language, telling them
that there is a new dawn beyond the grave that dissipates like the
clouds; the Earthly evils. The angel opened the eyes of Tobias;
may the angel of love in turn open the closed souls of those who
suffer hopelessly!
Having said that, this woman gently touched my eyes and I could see
the spirits through the walls of the hospital, like pure flames illuminating
the desolated rooms. Their union with humanity was consumed; the
wounds of the soul and the body were healed and soothed with a balm
of hope. Legions of spirits, more numerous and brighter than the stars,
cleared the way before the suffering ones, chasing away the impure vapors
of despair, doubt and of the air and the Earth, like a raging river that escaped
with only one word: love.
I remained motionless for a long time and as if transported out of my
body; then darkness invaded Earth once more and the space was empty
again. I looked around but the woman was gone. I was scared and oblivious
to everything around me. Since that evening I have been called the
dreamer, the mad one. Oh! What a gentle and sublime madness is the
belief in life after the grave! And how depressing and stupid the crazy idea
that shows the void as the only reward to our miseries and to our modest
and obscure virtues! Who is the mad one here: the one that has hope or
the one who despairs?
Alfred de Musset
After this last communication was read Gérard de Nerval then spontaneously
writes the following, through another medium, Mr. Didier:
“My honorable friend Musset finished for me. We agreed to that. All we
needed was that his continuation would give precisely the answer to the
first part that I gave you, and it was also necessary to have a different style
and more comforting images.”
Prayer
(Sent by Mr. Sabò, from Bordeaux)
Storm of human passions, you that asphyxiate all good feelings of every
incarnate spirit who only has a vague memory of them deep down in
their consciences, who shall abate your fury?
It is prayer; prayer is the one that can protect people against that ocean
of horrible monsters like pride, envy, rage, hypocrisy, lies, impurity, materialism
and blasphemy! Prayer is the strongest levee you can build, made
of rock and cement, bearing with you in the bloody fight against those
monsters which will hopelessly fall over the cliff to the abyss!
Oh! Heartily prayer, unstoppable invocation of the Creator by its creature,
if they only knew your strength, how many hearts would have reached
out to you in their weaknesses! You are the precious antidote that cures
the almost always fatal ulcers forced by matter onto the spirit, carrying in
their veins the poison of brutality.
However, how small is the number of those who pray well! Do you really
believe that you deserve a lot from God just because you spent a long time
reciting formulas and reading books? Make no mistake! The real good
prayer is the one that comes out of your heart. It is all clarity. It may even
show some anguish or the desire for forgiveness and the good spirits take
that prayer along and deposit it at the feet of our just and kind Father, and
God feels that incense as a pleasant aroma.
God then sends back the large numbers of troops needed to fortify those
who pray well against the spirit of evil. They become strong as immovable
rocks; they break against the waves of human passions, and when they
have found pleasure within these struggles, of which must be filled with
merit, they build, like the halcyon, their nests amid the storms.
Fenelon
