Supplement to Section XI
Illustrations of Magic in India - Narratives of Distinguished Travelers - Records of Their Personal Experiences - Testimony of More Than Common Preternaturalism.
In the author's possession is an immense mass of testimony, sufficient indeed to fill many volumes, concerning the facts of extra mundane spiritism, kindred or similar to those recited in this section.
As many if not all of these, seem to draw too largely on the credulity of ordinary readers, it is our purpose with each narrative of personal experience, of more than common preternaturalism, to accompany it with a statement of similar character, verified by some historical personage, in whom the reader may have more confidence than in an anonymous writer.
If this method may burden our work with more illustrations than seems necessary, it will at least show how much more universal are these gigantic products of spiritual power than mankind has generally believed.
During the author's residence at Benares - the holy city of the Hindoos - in the years 1855 and '56, a party of English gentlemen, attracted by interest in Spiritualistic pursuits, frequently visited him, and assisted in experimenting with the swarms of Fakeers who crowd the city, and the numerous professing miracle workers who flock to Benares at certain seasons of periodical pilgrimage.
One of this English party, Capt. W., an officer of estimable character and high culture, experienced during his stay in Benares some family bereavements, which fixed his mind with painful solicitude on the condition of life in the hereafter. The Fakeers, lying on the banks of the sacred Ganges, or crouching in the city thoroughfares in every conceivable attitude of disgusting deformity, repelled this refined gentleman, and he refused to avail himself of their powers as the Ghost Seers, deeming the condition of the dead too sacred to be represented by such unhallowed interpreters. In vain his friends assured him these poor ascetics were merely instruments through whom the inhabitants of other worlds might announce their presence, as through the post-office or telegraph. The mourner required for the manifestation of an angelic presence, nothing short of an angelic instrument, and insisted that if the dead could return at all, it must be through means as holy as their own beatified condition.
One morning, Capt. W. entered his friend's apartment with a countenance beaming with excitement and exclaimed: "Eureka! the great object of my search is found. A mighty magician is coming to Benares who can solve all my doubts. Report speaks of him as the greatest of all wonder-workers; the city is alive with interest. A Sacred Bokt - a veritable Lama had indeed arrived, and would give exhibitions of his skill to whosoever desired his services. Without inquiring in what this skill consisted, the party, all too hastily, engaged the great Mystic, arranging that his first performance should be given in the private residence of one of their number in a large Bungalow, in the vicinity of the city. None but invited guests were to be present, but it was not until some few hours before the ceremonial was to take place, that the party of English gentlemen learned to what they had committed themselves, and the true nature of the horrible entertainment they had provided for a set of extremely refined and intelligent visitors. When the true state of the case was disclosed, the love of the marvelous prevailed over their disappointment. The Bokt was no necromancer, no seer or visionist, but a great ecstatic - a Lama of such stupendous sanctity that he was about to slay himself, die, and come to life again. Whatever he could or could not do, however, the engagement had been made and must be carried out.
The presence of seventy Fakeers of extraordinary power had been secured, an audience hall improvised, and altar erected, seats provided, all the arrangements made, and the Bokt now illuminating the sacred city with his presence, proposed in view of all beholders to rip up the abdomen, remove a portion of the intestines, read in them the decrees of fate, replace them again, and heal up the wound inflicted without damage to the person of the great performer. It must be confessed that when the full horror of this revolting rite was understood some of the party pleaded earnestly that the engagement might be cancelled and the scarcely human crowd of participants be dismissed with the promised fees; but the belief in some that the performance could not be real, but would end in an act of clever legerdemain, whilst the hope in the minds of others of witnessing a stupendous triumph of spirit over matter, determined them all to unite in suffering the ceremonial to proceed. When the hour of noon arrived, the Lama appeared and took his seat before the raised altar on which the candles had been lighted. Behind him was a radiant image of the sun, and on either side of the altar were grim idols which had been placed there by the attendants.
The Lama was in person a small spare man with fixed glittering eyes, an emaciated frame, and an immense mass of long black hair which floated over his shoulders. He appeared altogether like a walking corpse in whose head two blazing fires had been lighted, which gleamed in unnatural lustre through his long almond-shaped eyes.
He was about forty years of age, and report alleged that he had already performed the great sacrificial act he was now about to repeat some four times previously.
From the moment this skeleton figure had taken his seat, the seventy Fakeers who surrounded him, in a semi-circle, began to sway their bodies back and forth, singing meanwhile a loud, monotonous chant in rhythm with their movements. The party of spectators, twenty in number, were accommodated with seats in a little gallery opposite the Lama and so placed as to command his every motion.
In a few minutes the gesticulations of the Fakeers increased almost to frenzy; they tossed their arms on high, bent their bodies to earth, now forward, now backward, now swung them around as if thrown by the hands of others; meantime their monotonous chant rose into shrieks and yells so frightful that the ears of the listeners were deafened and their senses distracted by the clamor. On every side of the auditorium, braziers of incense were burning. Six Fakeers swung pots of Frankincense, filling the air with intoxicating vapors, whilst six others stood behind, beating metal drums or clashing cymbals, which they tossed on high with gestures of frantic exaltation. For some time the howls, shrieks and distracting actions of this maniac crew, produced no effect on the immovable Lama. He sat like one dead, his fixed and glassy eyes seeming to stare into illimitable distance, without heeding the pandemonium that was raging around him. "Can he be really living?" whispered one of the awe struck Englishmen to his neighbor, but this question was speedily answered by the series of convulsive shudderings which at length shook the Lama's frame. His dark eyes rolled wildly and finally nothing but their whites were to be seen, spasm after spasm threatening to shiver the frail tenement and expel its quivering life.
The teeth were set, and the features distorted as in the worst phases of epilepsy, when suddenly, and just as the tempest of horrible cries and distortions was at its height, the Lama seized the long glittering knife which was across his knees, drew it rapidly up the length of the abdomen, and then displayed in all their revolting horror, the proofs of the sacrifice in the protruding intestines.
The crowd of awe-struck ascetics bent their heads to the earth in mute worship; not a sound broke the stillness, but the deep breathings of the spectators. At length one of them who had witnessed such scenes before, addressing the living creature- for living he still was, though he uttered no sound, nor raised his drooping head from his breast - and said: "Man! can you tell us by what power this deed of blood is performed without destruction of life?" "The Lama is all Atma now," responded a thin shrill voice from the bleeding wreck before us. "Fo keeps the Manas (senses), until the work is done." "But why is that work necessary?" rejoined the querist. "Is it right?" "To show that life and death is his. Fo can withdraw the Atma (Soul) and give it back; it is his will to show his power." "Is the Lama then dead now?" "The City of Brahma (the body) is empty; Brahma Atma has retreated." "How long can the Atma remain absent?" "He returns even now. See he wings his way hither, and now he must re-enter the City's gate or it is closed against him forever." "Yet a moment; the Akasa (life principle) has it left the flesh that is severed - cut?" "Not yet - try it - it is warm - but soon the Akasa will ebb away, if your will detains the Pitris who guide home the Atma." The querist did not, as invited, examine the wound, nor even approach the ghastly figure, nearer than was requisite to observe the anatomy of the intestines laid bare. A dead silence ensued. The living corpse moves. It raises its quivering hands, and scoops up the blood from the wound, bears it to the lips, which breathe upon it; they then return to the wound, begin to press the severed parts together, and remake the mutilated body. The Fakeers shout, and send up praises to Brahma; the drums beat, the cymbals clash, shrieks, prayers, invocations resound on all sides. The fragrant incense ascends. The flute-players, planted on the outskirts of the estate, pour forth their shrill cadence.
The harps of some European servants, stationed in a distant apartment and previously-instructed, send forth strains of sweet melody among the frantic clamor.
The ecstatic makes a few more passes, and after wrapping a scarf, previously prepared, over the body as if to cleanse it from the gore in which he was steeped, suddenly he stands upright; casts all his upper garments from him, and displays a body unmarked by a single scar. Gesticulations, cries, shouts subside; low murmurs of admiration and worship pass through the breathless assembly, and then the Bokt, clasping his thin hands and elevating his glistening eyes to heaven, utters in a deep, low tone, far different to the shrill wail of the half-dead sacrifice, a short but fervent prayer of thankfulness - and all is done.
The man resumes his dress, accepts gravely the presents bestowed upon him, dismisses his admiring votaries, and walks away as calmly as if he had just parted from a gay festivity. Subsequently questioned concerning this strange and hideous rite, he declared he had fasted for six weeks pervious to its performance, partaking of no other sustenance than bread, water, and a few herbs. During the ceremonial he insisted that he felt nothing, heard nothing; stated that he had been lifted up to Paradise and beheld beauties ineffable, and partaken of joys which no other mortal could ever know. When asked to do so, he exhibited the parts that had been severed, which only retained a small ridgy white line about three inches in length. This the Bokt assured the investigators was unusual and might be attributed to the excess of Akasa or life fluid which the Fakeers dispensed. There were too many of them he thought. Had there been less, or those present had been less zealous, the parts would have cohered instantly. As it was, the life fluid bubbled up, and caused that seam by its excess. he expected to reduce it by manipulations. Wondering to hear this man use Hindoo phrases and speak the Tamul language with great purity, the inquirers found he had been born a Hindoo, graduated as a Fakeer, and finally embraced the doctrines of Buddha. It was doubtful whether he had been a Lama at all, but such was his performance.
We shall, according to promise, supplement this narrative with another on the same subject, published in a work entitled; Souvenirs D'un Voyage dans La Tartarie, et la Chine, par M. Hue Pretre Missionaire. Published at Paris, 1850. For the translation of this narrative we are indebted to an excellent periodical, published by Mr. Jas. Burns, of London in 1873, entitled "Human Nature." The date of the narrative is some twenty-five years earlier. M. Hue says:
"The fifteenth day of the new moon we encountered several caravans, following, as we did, the direction from east to west. The road was filled with men, women and children, mounted on camels or oxen. They told us they were all going to the lamasery of Rache-Tehurin. When they asked us if our object was the same as theirs, they appeared astonished at our negative response. Their surprise roused our curiosity. At a turning of the road we overtook an old lama who appeared to walk with difficulty, as he had a heavy package on his back. 'Brother,' we said, 'thou art old, thy white hairs are more numerous than the black; thou must be fatigued; place thy burden on the back of one of our camels.' After the pilgrim was relieved of his load, when his walk had become more elastic and his countenance brighter, we asked him why all these pilgrims were pacing the desert? 'We are all going to Rache-Tehurin,' they said, with accents full of devotion. 'Without doubt some great solemnity calls you to the lamasery?' 'Yes, to-morrow ought to be a grand day; a lama bokt will manifest his power; he will kill himself, but will not die.' ......We at once understood the kind of solemnity which had put all these Tartars and Ortous on the move. A lama was about to rip up his stomach, take out his entrails, place them before him, and then return to his normal state. This spectacle, atrocious and disgusting as it is, is nevertheless very common in the lamaseries of Tartary. The bokt who is 'to manifest his power,' as the Mongols express it, prepares himself for this formidable act by many days of prayer and fasting. During this time he must forego all communication with other men and keep in absolute silence. When the day arrives the multitude of pilgrims assemble in the large court of the lamasery, and an altar is raised in front of the doors of the temple. The bokt appears. He advances gravely, the people saluting him with loud acclamations. He moves to the altar and there he sits. He draws from his belt a long cutlass which he places on his knees. At his feet a number of lamas, arranged in a circle, raise loud invocations. As the prayers proceed the bokt is perceived to tremble in all his members, and then gradually to fall into phrenetical convulsions. The lamas become more and more excited; their voices are no longer measured; their chants become disorderly, til at length their recitations are changed into howlings. And it is now that the bokt suddenly casts off the scarf which envelopes him, detaches his belt, and, seizing the sacred cutlass, cuts up his stomach through all its length. While the blood is flowing from every part, the multitude falling before this horrible spectacle, interrogates the fanatic concerning hidden subjects, future events, or the destiny of certain persons. The bokt replies to all these questions by answers which are regarded as oracles by all.
"When the devout curiosity of the numerous pilgrims is satisfied, the lamas recommence the recitation of prayers with calmness and gravity. The bokt gathers up, with his right hand, some of the blood, carries it to his mouth, blows on it three times, and then casts it in the air with much clamor. He rapidly passes his hand over the wound and all returns to its primitive state, without leaving a trace of this diabolical operation beyond extreme languor. The bokt rolls his scarf again around his body, recites a short prayer with a low voice and all is over. And now the pilgrims dispense, with the exception of the most devout, who stay to contemplate and adore the blood-stained altar. These horrific ceremonies occur with sufficient frequency in the large lamaseries of Tartary and Thibet.
"All lamas have not the power to operate these prodigies. Those, for example, who have the horrible capacity of cutting themselves open are never found among the lamas of higher rank. They are ordinarily simple lamas of bad character, and held in small esteem by their colleagues. The lamas who are sensible, generally asseverate their horror of spectacles of this description. In their eyes all these operations are perverse and diabolical. The good lamas, they say; have it not in their power to execute things of this kind, and are careful to guard against seeking to acquire the impious talent.
"The above is one of the most notable sie-fa, that is, 'perverse powers' possessed by the lamas. Others of a like kind are less grandiose and more in vogue. These they practice at home and not on public solemnities. They will heat a piece of red hot iron and lick it with their tongues. They will make incisions in their bodies, and an instant after not a trace of the would remains, etc., etc. All these operations should be preceded by prayers.
In 1870, being on a visit to a friend residing near Paris, the author was informed that a party of Fakeers, otherwise called "Fire-eaters," who had been denied the opportunity of exhibiting their powers in London, might be seen and induced to give a private performance, by application to their leader, Lala Pokowra. These men being known to the author, had solicited him to procure them such patronage as would enable them to return to their own land. With this view several gentlemen united to arrange a series of private performances, the first of which we propose to give a brief transcript of, in the following narrative:
Three of the spectators had already become familiar with the performance expected; the rest were entirely skeptical as to the reality of what was described, especially Dr. L., a Corsican surgeon, who insisted that he should be able to detect the trick by his acumen and scientific knowledge.
It was evening before the party reached the chateau, and then Mons. de L., deeming they must be fatigued, desired that they might have refreshments served before commencing. This they all declined, however, explaining that in order to prepare for what was to follow, it was necessary to observe a strict fast.
It was near midnight before the arrangements were complete, and then all were assembled in a large hall, which in olden time had been used as a refectory. The floor was paved with black and white marble, and for this reason had been selected by the exhibitors in preference to other rooms where the waxed floors and carpets have been injured.
Several braziers exhaling incense and aromatic vapors were burning around the hall, which was only lighted by a bright fire, into which were stuck several iron bars, brands and other substances destined for the proposed exhibition. The spectators, amounting to about thirty gentlemen, took seats on a raised dais at one end of the apartment, while the Corsican surgeon, joined by two others of the French faculty, stationed themselves in the most convenient position for making their observations.
When all were seated the exhibitors entered, consisting of six men, four of whom were simply attired in a tunic belted around the waist and reaching nearly to the knees, their arms, necks and shoulders remaining bare. The two others were dressed in the ordinary coarse attire of the lower class of Fakeers. These men were all excessively emaciated, and the preternatural glare of their fierce black eyes was wild and repulsive. There was a seventh personage, not a Hindoo, but an European amateur, who became for the nonce their Adept, Lala Pokowra yielding up this post to him by request, and taking a seat with the spectators on the platform.
The four semi-nude men at first seated themselves on mats prepared for them, whilst the other two were busy in heating irons and attending to the braziers. The smoke ascending to the high-vaulted ceiling, and the fitful glare of the fires illuminating the half-savage figures of the reclining ecstatics, produced a weird and singular effect in this vast apartment. Branching antlers of stags' heads, torn old banners, and dim armorial bearings gleamed forth in the flickering light, contrasting strangely with the Oriental forms that lay stretched beneath them. For some time they remained motionless, the two assistants, however, stood together, chanting prayers in a low monotonous tone, and from time to time striking in rhythm a pair of silver cymbals. It was not until the Adept had sounded a few soft notes on the flageolet, that the ecstatics exhibited any signs of life.
At the first intonation they raised their heads like sleuth-hounds scenting game, then began swaying their bodies in time to the music. Shriller, louder, quicker, rang out the tones of the flageolet - fiercer sounded the clashing cymbals; louder and louder shouted the hoarse voices of the singers, and now upspringing from the ground the four Fakeers are seen whirling spinning, each as it were on his own pivot, arms outstretched, long hair flying in the circumference of each spinning human column like a fringe of black cloud around a water-spout at sea. Faster and faster screams the flageolet - faster and faster spin the human tee-to-tums, til now first one, then the second, at length the third sink down in rigid cataleptic swoons. The fourth still spins, when suddenly, tossing one hand aloft, with a whoop that would have thrilled the blood of a red Indian, he snatches with the other a keen knife from the girdle, and dashes it through the fleshy part of the other extended arm. A torrent of blood follows the wound, but another and another gash succeed in quick succession, until the hands, face, neck, breast, and arms are streaming from the open mouths of gaping wounds. One of the surgeons springs forth pale and trembling, and at a signal from the Adept, the ecstatic stops, and the man of science, with a face as white as the driven snow, examines the hideous gashes. "Great God! it is all true!" he cries. A few words in Hindostance from the Adept succeed, and now the bleeding creature stands motionless, whilst the Adept's hands rapidly pass from point to point, pressing the wounds together, manipulating them slightly, rubbing them over, making quick passes above them, and lo! the figure appears a man again.
All the surgeons come forward, even the spectators, those who have not fled sickened and fainting from the shocking spectacle, and gaze upon the exposed form now intact; not a gash left, not a wound unhealed, not a cicatrix remaining. A cup containing a stimulating drink of herbs is handed to the exhibitor who quietly wiping the still reeking gore from his person, subsides upon his mat with an air of stolid indifference.
Meantime, the voices of the chanters have sunk to a low monotonous cadence, yet never ceased. Now they increase in volume, again the cymbals clash, the flageolet gives out its piercing tones, when the falling Fakeers upspringing from their trance, commence to sway, dance, whirl, spin.
One darts to the blazing fire, and seizing a red hot iron, licks it with extended tongue; another gathers up a handful of burning coals and chews them as a precious morsel, then whirling the lighted brands above his head, he piles them, up in heaps, lays on them, hugs them, presses them to his naked breast, and dances with them till he appears a column of spinning fire. Again the knives flash, the blood springs from gaping wounds, but now appealing cries and even shrieks sound out from shivering spectators. Shouts of "Stop this hellish play!" ring from many voices. Some fall insensible, some stop their ears and close their eyes, and others stand like figures of stone, petrified by some Gorgon's head. All are unnerved, unmanned, and some weep like frightened children. The signal to suspend is given in haste and pity; pity not to the reeking victims, but to the shocked spectators.
Again the Adept and the two assistants busy themselves about the motionless figures. They stand as passive and unmoved as logs. The blood dries up; the wounds just breathed upon are pressed by busy hands, the bodies stroked and wiped, are healed and not a scar is left. Upright and motionless they stand, whilst the trembling spectators steal towards them, pass their hands about them, and turning to each other, exclaim: "This is the work of fiends and no mistake!" Aye, so it ever is. Any science which transcends the power of ignorance to explain, is always the devil's work, and horrible, revolting to humanity and every feeling of nature as such exhibitions are, it needs them to convince the material scientist that there is a realm of Spiritualism more tremendously potent than any that matter has yet revealed, and until this realm is explored, science will be driven to the ordinary expedient of ignorance and superstition, crying: "This is the work of fiends and no mistake!"
A narrative so appalling as the above demands like the former one additional testimony to strengthen it. Let the reader find this by perusing a sketch written by the Princess de Belgiojosa, in her charming work, entitled "Souvenirs de Voyage en Asie Mineure et en Syrie." This narrative was translated and published in the London Spiritual Magazine of 1868, from the pages of which we avail ourselves of an excellent translation.
"Amongst a variety of other wonders, the Count de Gobineau, the Ambassador of France to Persia, a rationalist, but a sincere and good observer, says that everybody in Persia, the Mussulmans as well as the rest, assured him that the Nossayris, one of the principal sects in Persia, perform the following marvels: They fill with fire a large brazier in the middle of the room, and whilst a musician plays the tar, a little drum, also called dombeck, the Nossayri approaches the fire. He is agitated, he is exalted, he lifts his arms and eyes towards heaven with violent contortions. Then when he is excited to such a pitch that the perspiration pours from his face and from every part of his body, he seizes a burning coal, and putting it in his mouth, blows it in such a manner that the flames issue from the nose. He receives no injury whatever from it. He then seats himself in the midst of the fire, the flames mount up and play in his beard, and caress without harming him. He is in the middle of the fire, and his dress does not burn; finally he lays himself down in the brazier, and receives no hurt from it. Others enter a baker's oven in full ignition, remain there as long as they like, and issue again without accident. What these people do with fire, others do with the air. They throw themselves from rocks with their wives and children, without receiving any damage, from whatsoever height they fall. This is the manner in which a Purzadeh, or descendant of a Pur, explained these extraordinary phenomena; 'Since," he said, 'everything in nature is God, so everything contains, secretly but plenarily, the omnipotence of God. Faith only is necessary to put in motion and make apparent this power. Therefore, the more intense and complete the faith, the more marvelous will be the effects produced. It is not merely from the air and the fire that we can draw prodigies, but from objects in appearance the most contemptible. If we wish to call our interior virtue, whatever it may be into action, we have only to apply the irresistible instrument of faith, and then , nothing is impossible.' such are the ideas of the Nossayris.
"One fine morning, as reclining on my divan, I endeavored, but in vain, to shake off the stupor and headache caused by the fumes of charcoal which issued from a metal stove, and circulated through my closed room, I saw enter a little old man in a white mantle, with a grey beard, a pointed cap of grey felt surrounded by a turban of green; he had a lively eye, and a countenance frank and good-natured. The old man announced himself as the chief of certain Dervishes, performers of miracles, whom the grand Muphti had sent to show me their operations. I offered him my warmest thanks, and expressed myself perfectly ready to witness the spectacle which they proposed. The old man opened the door, made a sign, and quickly reappeared, followed by his disciples.
"They were eight in number, and I must confess, that if I had met them on my journey, at the corner of a wood, their appearance would have given me little pleasure. Their clothes were in rags, their long beards untrimmed, their visages pale, their forms emaciated, a something indescribably ferocious and haggard in their eyes, all which contrasted singularly with the open smiling countenance and somewhat gay costume of their chief. These men on entering, prostrated themselves before him, made me a polite obeisance, and seated themselves at a distance, awaiting the orders of the old man, who, on his part, awaited mine. I experienced a degree of embarrassment, which would have been still more painful had the seance been of my own ordering. Happily I was perfectly innocent, and this consideration gave me a little self-composure, but I did not dare to make the sign for commencement of, I did not know what. I expected a scene of the grossest imposition, which I should be obliged to applaud out of politeness, and of which I must show myself a dupe of good breeding.
"I caused coffee to be served, to gain time, but the chief only accepted it. The disciples excused themselves, alleging the seriousness of the trials to which they were about to submit themselves. I gazed at them; they were serious as men who expected the visit of a host rather than a revered master. After a short silence, the old man asked me if these children might begin, and I replied that it rested entirely with themselves. Taking my answer as an encouragement, he made a sign, and one of the Dervishes arose; he then prostrated himself before his chief and kissed the earth; the chief placed his hands on his head as if to give his benediction and spoke some words in a low voice which I did not understand. Then arising, the Dervish put off his mantle, his goatskin fur, and receiving a long poignard from one of his companions, the handle of which was ornamented with little bells, he placed himself in the middle of the apartment. Calm and self-collected at first, he became animated by degrees from the force of an interior action. His breast swelled, his nostrils expanded, and his eyes rolled in their sockets with a singular rapidity. This transformation was accompanied and aided, without doubt, by the music and the songs of the other Dervishes, who, having commenced by a monotonous recitative, passed quickly into modulated cries and yells, to which the regular beating of a tambourine gave a certain measure. When the musical fever attained its paroxysm the first Dervish alternatively raised and let fall the arm which held the poignard, without being conscious of these movements, and as if moved by a foreign force. A convulsive twitching pervaded his limbs, and he united his voice with those of his confreres whom he soon reduced to the humble role of assistants, so much did his cries exceed theirs. Dancing was then added to the music, and the protagonist Dervish executed such amazing leaps that the perspiration ran down his naked figure.
"It was the moment of inspiration. Brandishing the dagger, which he never abandoned, and every motion of which had made the little bells resound; then, extending his arm and suddenly retracting it, he plunged the dagger into his cheek so deep that the point appeared in the inside of his mouth. The blood rushed in torrents from both apertures of the wound, and I could not restrain a motion of my hand to put an end to this terrible scene.
"'Madame wishes to look a little closer?' said the old man, observing me attentively. Making a sign for the wounded man to draw near, he made me observe that the point of the dagger had really passed through the cheek, and he would not be satisfied til I had touched the point with my finger.
"'You are satisfied that the wound of this man is real?' he said to me. 'I have no doubt of it,' I replied emphatically.
"'That is enough. My son,' he added to the Dervish, who remained during the examination with is mouth open, filled with blood, and the dagger still in the wound, 'go, and be healed.'
"The Dervish bowed, drew out the dagger, and turning to one of his companions, knelt and presented his cheek, which this man washed within and without with his own saliva. The operation continued some seconds, but when the wounded man rose, and turned to one side, every trace of the wound had disappeared.
"Another Dervish made a wound in his arm, under the same ceremonies, which was healed in the same manner. A third terrified me. He was armed with a great crooked sabre, which he seized with his hands at the two extremities, and applying the edge of the concave side to his stomach caused it to enter as he executed a sea-saw motion. A purple line instantly showed itself on his brown and shining skin, and I entreated the old man to allow it to proceed no further. He smiled, assuring me that I had seen nothing, that this was only the prologue; that these children cut off their limbs with impunity - their heads, if necessary, without causing themselves any inconvenience. I believe he was contented with me, and judged me worthy to witness their miracles, by which I was not particularly flattered.
"But the fact is, I remained pensive and confused. What was that? My eyes, had they not seen them? My hands, had they not touched them? Had not the blood flowed? i called to mind all the tricks of our most celebrated prestidigitateurs, but I found nothing to be compared with what I had seen. I had had to do with men simple and ignorant to excess; their movements were made with the utmost simplicity, and displayed not a trace of artifice. I do not pretend to have seen a miracle, and I state faithfully a scene which I for my part know not how to explain. The next day, Dr. Petracchi, for many years the English Consul at ANgora, related many such marvels, and assured me that the Dervishes possessed natural or rather supernatural secrets, by which they had accomplished prodigies equal to those of the priests of Egypt."
M. Adalbert de Beaumont, who visited Asia Minor, in 1852, asserts the reality of the same wonders as the Countess de Belgiojoso. He says when the dancing Dervishes have reached the paroxysm of their excitement, they seize on iron red hot, bite it, hold it between their teeth, and extinguish it with their tongues. Others take knives and large needles, and pierce their sides, arms and legs, the wounds of which immediately heal and leave no trace.
It is time to bring these extravagant horrors to a close. We shall offer only one more example of East Indian spiritism, although our repertoire of similar facts, and that in personal experiences, would fill volumes.
At Bengal about the year 1860, there resided a Fakeer, who had obtained the name of Ali Achmet from a wealthy Arab, in whose service he had resided for many years. He had been a renegade to his faith and was little respected in a moral point of view, but his abilities as a wonder-worker had gained him a great reputation amongst foreigners who visited the city. At the death of his patron, Ali claimed that his "father's spirit" revisiting the scenes of earth he had loved all too well, and being bound to the performance of certain good deeds that he had left undone in earth-life, once more adopted his favorite, and informed him, speaking with a voice, that he would enable him to excel every Dervish in Arabia, every Fakeer in Hindoostan. This spirit kept his word. Ali achieved a great reputation wherever he went, and being the inheritor of his adopted father's wealth he gave his exhibitions freely, although his excessive vanity prompted him to tender them wherever he could find appreciative witnesses. Having conceived a whimsical friendship for the author, he spent much time exhibiting to him and his friend his wonder-working powers.
In the presence of this man many sprits of deceased persons had actually appeared to their friends. Their forms had been seen standing in the waning light of evening with perfect distinctness, and remaining long enough to be fully recognized. Spirit faces, distant scenes, and the presentment of living persons residing in foreign countries were frequently shown on the surface of a mirror which the author kept in his apartment devoted to that purpose. The ordinary expedient of calling in a boy from the street, pouring ink, walnut or fungus juice in his hand, and then "biologizing" him to see and describe the forms the inquirer wished to summon, were phases of power too petty to engage this Adept's attention.
After detecting thieves, discovering lost property, being raised in the air, carried through the grounds on several occasions, producing all manner of sights, sounds and strange phenomena familiar enough amongst modern spiritists, the Fakeer would often ask his audiences suddenly, if they would not like some object brought them from distant lands, and when an affirmative answer was given and the desired object named, a muttered prayer, a silent invocation to his beloved familiar, or perhaps a low chanted song, was sure to end in the production of what was required, though it had to be transported for a thousand miles or brought across the ocean.
Many persons residing at Benares will still remember the time, some thirty years ago, when this magician, exhibiting his power before the Temple of Siva in the presence of several thousand persons, caused three little half-naked Indian children to climb up a pole successively, one after the other, and when they had ascended about half the distance they suddenly disappeared. In two minutes after the last was lost to sight, a shout from the audience announced that the whole three were found on a plateau a hundred feet removed from the pole, and there they had appeared suddenly out of vacancy. The Fakeer explained the phenomenon by declaring that when the little climbers had ascended to a point where he had directed a circle of Akasa (life fluid) to gird the pole, the Pitris, headed by the spirit of his accommodating friend, had caught them up, concealed them in their own Akasa (spiritual atmosphere) and only put them out of it again when they placed them on the plateau above mentioned. The little ones were entranced and remembered nothing of their aerial flight.
By sticking a twig broken from a living tree into the ground, and extending his hand over it, or keeping his fingers pointed towards it, he could cause a fresh tree to spring up, bearing leaves, flowers and fruit, in less than twenty minutes.
This weird creature being one day alone with the author, was asked to show something which should prove to his friend, that he spoke with no double tongue, practiced with no double robe, that is, no concealed apparatus.
"What would my Brother chose to see?" inquired Ali.
"What can Ali do?"
"See! Ali wears no double robe, " cried the Fakeer, casting away his upper garment entirely.
"Tis well-proceed! Cause the Pitris to show their images in yon vase of water."
The vase indicated was a large stone tank which stood in a shady part of the outer court. Ali spoke not, but instantly pointing the staff he commonly carried towards the tank - it began visibly to oscillate. Its weight was immense. It could not have contained less than six gallons of water, yet as the Fakeer's knotted staff was pointed towards it - it began to slide along the court; reach the open glass doors which divided the apartment from without, to close which, a groove of metal intersected the floor.
Here the stone traveller paused like a thing of life, then as if reflection had ensued, it slowly but steadily floated up a foot above the ground, sailed in through the glass doors, then gently subsided to the ground, and still sliding on, stationed itself at the Fakeer's feet. "Will my Brother give the Pitris sweet air to breathe?" inquired the Fakeer. This remark referred to the use of Ozone, currents of which passed through an electric battery had frequently been used in that apartment in the evocation of spirits. There were several braziers, too, half burnt out, containing frankincense and aromatic perfumes. These were distributed in a circular form around the spot where the stone tank was held stationary.
The battery set in working order, and the braziers lighted, the Fakeer seemed satisfied, and this is what ensued. The fumes of the burning incense instead of as usual ascending to vents prepared to receive them, seemed to be bent by some outside power until the concentrated inwards towards the tank. The Fakeer now moved around this vessel several times, stretching both his hands towards it, and murmuring his low chant in subdued tones. Directing his single witness to stand on the north side of the vase, but outside the circle of braziers, he assumed a position exactly opposite to him, and then both perceived that every drop of the water in the tank had disappeared, the tank was empty!
Once more moving around the vessel in circles, stretching forth his hand which to the eye of clairvoyance streamed with Akasa (the life fluid) like the shells, crystals and fingers of Reichenbach's sensitives - and lo! the water came bubbling back, forming under the crystalizing process of spiritual life infused into the empty vessel, the gasses into which the fluid had been resolved, combining again, until the pool reached the surface, and seemed to attain the exact level it had before occupied. Again resuming his place to the south of the vessel, and beckoning his companion to approach nearer, one hand of each being laid on the edge of the tank, figures began to appear on the surface of the unruffled water. Seventeen presentations of forms known to the beholder appeared and disappeared in slow succession on the tranquil mirror of the water. Most of the apparitions represented spirits who had long been inhabitants of the silent land - some, however, were friends residing in distant lands, and these were surrounded with scenery appropriate to the position in which they might then most probably be residing.
Every picture was clear, distinct, life-like and highly characteristic of the individual presented, and the whole phantasmagoria strikingly illustrated those two spiritualistic aphorisms, which have lately become so popular: "There are no dead - and - "In spiritual existence there are neither time, space nor obstacles of matter." The last forms seen were those of the two witnesses themselves. Neither of them, however, represented the costumes that they wore, the one being arrayed in a uniform packed up in a distant wardrobe, the other - that of the Fakeer - appearing in the Arab dress he had long since cast aside. The unmistakable fidelity of the likenesses, but the singular change in the costumes thus presented, convinced the two observers that this manifestation was designed to show that the whole series of pictures were creations of the will - acts of attendant spirits, who, by exploring the minds of the mediums, shaped their representations in accordance with the images there impressed, or stereotyped in the memories of those they desired to serve.
The letter of European missionaries from India, China, and other eastern lands, popular accounts of snake-charmers, Indian magicians, etc., especially the writings of Messers. Salt, Lane, Wolff, Laborde, Mesdames Poole, Martineau and others, have so familiarized this age with the magical wonders wrought in the Orient, that the insertion even of the limited number of narratives this section contains, might be deemed supererogatory did we not feel the necessity, in a practical and affirmative work of this character, of saying, we, too, have seen and can testify of these things, nay more; let us add, we, too, can perform them; but again arises the question, can such things be done without all the efforts and initiatory processes above described, or those naturally occult endowments so rarely conferred? Once more we subjoin a fragment of philosophy on this subject given by a noble Brahmin, the father of the little Hindoo girl Sonoma, whose clairvoyance and extraordinary lucidity has been referred to an an earlier section.
The Brahmin of whom we now speak, a native of Malabar, was himself an ascetic and celibate up to the age of fifty years, when in the full exercise of his wonderful power, procured by fasting, abstinence and contemplation, he became a Yogee of the first degree, and one of the Council of elders.
At times he was not only levitated in the air, but during the performance of a solemn service on the banks of Orissa, he was floated above the heads of the multitude for a distance of over a hundred yards. The brahmin was moved in the direction of the river, and would doubtless have been carried across it, had not the great disturbance in the minds of the anxious spectators broken the currents of Astral fluid in which his spiritual conductors carried him, and compelled them to lay him gently down on the river's bank.
After this aerial flight, the Brahmin withdrew from public life and devoted himself to the duties of his calling as a healer of the sick, a work he performed solely by the laying on of hands. He frequently fasted for many hours, sometimes for days together, for the purpose of curing some notable case of disease, but these self-renunciations always produced their effect in the inevitable conquest the noble physician achieved over the malady, however severe.
Being present with the author on one occasion when a Fakeer who had been buried for eight weeks, was disinterred, and restored to life, in the perfection of health and good spirits, the Brahmin was pressed by a British officer whose soldiers had been appointed to keep guard over the grave, to address the party assembled, and render them some explanation of the phenomena they had witnessed. The Brahmin without hesitation answered: "Does not God effect all these magical deeds every day before your eyes and yet you marvel not at their occurrence? THe only difference between His procedure and that of the magician is, that God gives to everything its due share of life, sufficient for its growth or its maintenance in being. The magician imparts a greater share of life than originally belonged to the object, and calling upon the help of spirits good or bad, just as he may himself be, they, too, bring a share of their life principle.
"Thus the magician's art consists in accumulating and dispensing more of the life fluid than nature herself yields up without his aid. Whatever nature does slowly by process of growth and change, the magician does rapidly by aid of his larger stock of materials to work with." Here one of the missionaries present inquired whether such performances were not in direct opposition to the will of God, since he has designed them for the use of man, he would have himself effected them by processes of change as rapid as those which the magician effected.
"See yonder buildings," responded the Brahmin, pointing to the city with its glittering domes and Temple ornaments flashing in the sunlight. "God made the stones and the copper, the brass and silver, but He did not put them together, nor form them into a city. He gives the riches of the earth, and by inspiration poured into the intellect of man, points the way to achievement, but he leaves man to do the work, and whatever man can do, that is not hurtful to his fellow man, he ought to do, for the will of man is only a miniature reflection of the will of God."
"Look at these roses! They were once a small shoot, a mere pretty twig, placed in the ground. Left to the natural process of growth, they would slowly raise into the air, gather up nourishment from the earth, light and heat from the atmosphere. All this they do because their Akasa works within the shoot, and expands it into the tree, the tree into leaves, branches, flowers and seeds; but if that small twig, placed in the earth, is fed and irrigated by the Akasa which mean and spirits pour out upon it in vast abundance, then it waits not for the processes of nature, but springs up at once, shoots flowers, bears seed and dies, and all within the hour, instead of within the month, as the slower growth of nature would have ordered."
"But the buried Fakeer," questioned the officers.
"He is a man in whom the body, reduced by fasting and years of penance, scarcely inheres together. Nothing but bone, sinew and attenuated matter is there. He is all Akasa - all force, all life. When they laid him in the tomb, his Soul was freed by entrancement. His body was left alive, 'tis true, for a small portion of Akasa remained - enough to keep the particles of matter together.
"To prevent these from being excited to motion, the ears, nostrils and mouth were stopped with wax, no air could enter, and so the body remained intact; its functions were all suspended at a single point, and no attrition could take place between the atoms. It was as if a clock had been stopped and then placed in an exhausted receiver where no action of the outer air could reach it or cause its particles to wear; remove it from its encasement, and it resumes its action just where it was stopped.
"You saw the Fakeer exhumed, the wax removed, and the natural air admitted to the natural passages. The friction used, re-awoke the slumbering functions; the Akasa of those around poured in streams upon the receptive form. The Soul, warned of the body when it must return, is attracted back to the uninjured body, and so re-entering, the man resumes the machinery of life just where the clock was stopped." But the officers would know if they could be inhumed or any ordinary man, by such a process, and then resume their earthly life again.
The Brahmin smiled, and gazing upon their stalwart forms, replied: "Their souls inhered too closely to their bodies. Their souls were not half grown, their bodies overgrown. No; the trance with them could not be complete, and the life principle of their spiritual bodies was so closely interwoven with the particles of matter, that the soul could only be completely removed from the body by death, and anything that closed up the avenues of life in those bodies would os injure them as to crush out the soul altogether." "No! no! It was none but the half dead ascetic to whom such contempt of material law was possible"
Every feat of magic was the triumph of spirit over matter. But the spirit must be very strong and the hinderances of matter slight before those triumphs could be attained. The officers retired, but no tiding have ever been circulated concerning the fasts by which any of their number prepared themselves for living inhumation. This Brahmin teaches that for the performance of gross ponderous work, the more earthly and earth-bound spirits are in attendance, whilst to aid in illusory, magical or elementary feats of power, such as flying, walking on air, resisting fire, producing metals, causing plants to spring up suddenly, or transporting objects through the air; elementary spirits called in the East Ginn or Genii, are always ready to aid, and that the control which man exercises over them and the labors which they perform in his service, benefit and aid them to advance in the scale of being.
These being abound in the elements, are very strong, and prone to cling to man as a God and a great Ruler. If he delight in evil, the evil in nature flies to him as the needle springs to the magnet, whilst pure planetary spirits, good angels, or souls of the just and true, are equally repelled by the evil influences which evil men give off.
"Forsaken of God - abandoned by my good angel!" cries the evil doer. Never so! but evil causes man to flee from God and repels good angels from him. He shuts the door against them and retires into the citadel built up of his own bad purposes and strengthened by the sympathy of equally degraded natures. Man fear thyself! and tremble only before the Devil of thine own conception! All men, good and evil, can attain to high spiritual powers by the physical processes so elaborately described in this section, but few can attain to the highest good which may exist independently of spiritual power of all. Still, to those who desire it, the means are herein made plain. No item must be disregarded or thrown away as an idle superstition. Occult powers reside in planets, stars, suns, systems, inhere in atmospheres, plants, stones minerals, waters, vapors, and living beings. Nature ever demands an equilibrium. Matter or spirit will ever be in the ascendant in every human organism, and whichever prevails draws from all surrounding objects a quality of force to match its own.
Thus the gross man, the coarse feeder, the sensualist, the miser, find throughout nature the quality of element and the character of spiritual life that feed their specialty and pander to their tastes. The same law applies to the reverse of this position, and therefore it is, that a saint or the worst of sinners may each attain to magical powers; but magic is the sunbeam which gives life to the blooming rose when it falls on the rose germ, or quickens into being the noisome fungus when its radiance falls on heaps of corruption.
The forces of spirit are designed for good and use, or they could not be accessible to man. In ages yet to come, when the earth and its living freight are all spiritualized, that which is magic now will be ordinary practice then. The heavens will kiss the earth, and the thin veil which divides the inhabitants of either realm will become so transparent that every eye will pierce its mystery and rejoice in its holy revealments. Until then "knowledge is power," and all men by knowledge may achieve the power of practicing art magic.