THE SINCLAIR EXPERIMENTS FOR TELEPATHY (continued 2)

2. And now Agt.’s drawing was an elephant, as far back as but lacking hind legs. And Per. wrote “Elephant comes again. I try to suppress it, and see lines, and a spike sticking some way into something.” And she draws two vertical lines, related to each other in ribbon fashion, what looks like a pin with circle for head, crossing the band through a slit indicated by two short vertical lines, and below the “spike” two widely separated vertical lines. The “spike” crosses what I have called a ribbon exactly as the elephant’s tusk crosses his trunk, the round eye of the elephant has moved slightly to form the head of the “spike,” and the vertical lines below may stand for a feeling that something (really the front legs) should be below. We have some warrant for our interpretation from the words “Elephant comes again. I try to suppress it.” Had she not tried to suppress it (because of the erroneous notion that it is but a memory of the elephant impression of Experiment 1), it is fair to assume that she would have tried to draw an elephant. She “tried to suppress” the animal, but his eye and “spike,” which was really “sticking into something,” but not in the manner drawn, seem to have persisted. (See Figs. 66, 66a.)

3. And now Agt. did draw a rooster. Both elephant and rooster, with which she was impressed at Experiment 1, had come by the time Experiment 3 had been reached. This is rather too 200much for “chance coincidence,” especially as the Sinclairs do not have an elephant among their domestic pets. But this is not all. As Per. not only announced an elephant in advance but got details of the elephant when that animal actually was in hand as the original, so not only was a rooster announced in advance but when the original is a rooster, Per. gets correspondences. She writes “I don’t know what, see a bunch, or tuft clearly. Also a crooked arm on a body. But don’t feel that I’m right.” What she drew was remarkably like the rear three-quarters of the rooster, the “tuft” representing its tail, “the crooked arm” its two legs in conjunction. (See Figs. 67, 67a.)

4. Agt., a table; Per., “Flower. This is a very vivid one. Green-spine-leaves like century plant,” and a corresponding drawing with tall flowering spike in the center. (See Fig. 68a.) A flat failure, but wait for Experiments 7 and 11.

5. Agt., a fishhook; Per., no drawing but script: “Dog wagging tail—see tail in air busy wagging—jolly doggie—tail curled in the air.” Well, a fishhook is somewhat like a tail curled in the air. But script followed: “Now I see a cow. I fear the elephant and chicken got me too sure of animals. But I see these.” A tail curled in the air—a dog or a cow! Wait for No. 7.

6. Agt., a sun represented by a large circle surrounded by rays; Per., “Setting sun and bird in the sky. Big bird on wing—sea gull or wild goose.” Obviously this is a partial success.

7. Agt., what was intended for the rear half of a cow, with tail curled almost exactly like a fishhook. Remember that in No. 5 Per. had an impression of a dog with “tail curled in the air” and a later impression of a cow. As a matter of fact, Mr. Sinclair’s cow does not have a cow’s tail but one made in the fashion of a hound’s tail. Per. in this No. 7 experiment makes a drawing like that of No. 4, except that the central spike is not so long, and writes “This is a real flower. I’ve seen it before. It’s vivid and returns. Century plant. Now it turns into a candlestick. See a candle.” And she drew what she probably meant for a five-armed candlestick, with one candle in the center. But it is much like the plant called “cat-tail,” except that the leaves diverge too widely. (See Fig. 69a.)

8. Agt., a long line with seven short evenly-spaced lines running 201from it at right angles—probably meant for a rake-head; Per., what is probably intended for two sticks of wood, fire proceeding from one of them, and smoke above. Script: “Fire and smoke—flame.” Also, “Must be campfire as I now see an Indian warrior near it in a war dress—feathered headpiece, etc.” There is a certain amount of resemblance between the rake-head and the stick of wood with the more or less straight lines springing from one side of it. (See Fig. 43a.) And one remembers that an Indian headdress, of the type which hangs down the back, consists of feathers on one side and directed outwardly from the band to which they are attached. But these are only suggested possibilities of connection, and are doubtful. There is even another possible connection, for it may be that “Fire and smoke” was influenced by the cannon of the following original.

9. Agt., the forward part of an old-style cannon, a double-line ellipse marking its mouth seen in perspective; Per., the half of a double-line ellipse with a curving tangle as of smoke, labeled “Fire,” and outside the script: “Half circle, double lines—light inside—light is fire busy whirling or flaming.” Partly right and very suggestive. (See Fig. 44a.)

10. Agt., three concentric triangles; Per., two wheels and over them the suggestion of some vehicle-body—only a line and two angles. Failure.

11. Agt., a “cat-tail,” its leaves by no means correctly drawn, but there is no doubt of its identity; Per., a drawing doubtfully marked “Dog’s head,” its ears, if such they are, also its muzzle, long and pointed, much resembling the upper halves of Mr. Sinclair’s cat-tail leaves. But remember Mrs. Sinclair’s “century plant” of No. 2 with its somewhat similar leaves and its central spike; remember especially the “candlestick” of No. 7, which so much resembles a cat-tail. (See Figs. 69a, 70, 70a.)

12. Agt., ten small circles arranged in rows, pyramidal fashion; Per. wrote only “Nothing except all the preceding ones come—too many at once—all past ones crowding in memory.” I wish she had stated which past one, if any, crowded most, and which came first. For it happens that her drawing for No. 2, so different from the impressions “a rooster” and “an elephant,” set down at the same 202time, also consisted of little circles, also in rows, but more in number and enclosed within an elliptical line.

13. Agt., a drinking-glass with double elliptic line at the top and small ellipse indicating the bottom; Per., double elliptic line above, same below with indefinite lines rising from the latter. The script is more significant: “Think of a saucer, then of a cup. It’s something in the kitchen. Too tired to see.” Pretty close. (See Figs. 72, 72a.)

The occurrence of so many correspondences, direct and oblique, among thirteen consecutive experiments constituting the entire series performed at one time, and these by mere accidental coincidence, is practically unthinkable.

Later Experiments by Professor William McDougall

In the main, this review has dealt only with the period covered by Mental Radio, although it has exhibited some experiments not illustrated or even mentioned therein. A few of the special tabulations have also included a part or all of the later tests made by Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, to the number of more than a hundred, the materials of which are in my hands. When the tabulations have reached so far, the fact has been stated.

But it may be well to say something about tests made by Professor William McDougall during a sojourn in California, July-August, 1930. He examined the proofs of previous work and consented to write an introduction to Mental Radio, saying: “A refusal would imply on my part a lack either of courage or of due sense of scientific responsibility. * * * It is the duty of men of science to give whatever encouragement and sympathetic support may be possible to all amateurs who find themselves in a position to observe and carefully and honestly to study such phenomena. Mrs. Sinclair would seem to be one of the rare persons who have telepathic power in a marked degree and perhaps other supernormal powers. The experiments in telepathy, as reported in the pages of this book, were so remarkably successful as to rank among the very best hitherto reported. The degree of success and the conditions of experiment were such that we can reject them as conclusive evidence of some mode of communication not at present explicable 203in accepted scientific terms only by assuming that Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair either are grossly stupid, incompetent and careless persons, or have deliberately entered upon a conspiracy to deceive the public in a most heartless and reprehensible fashion.” As we have seen, the circle of conspirators would have to be enlarged to admit Mr. and Mrs. Irwin, for they vouched for an extraordinarily successful series of experiments at long distance. And it would have to be enlarged to include Professor McDougall himself, since he sent me the materials of his experiments, whose results, though inferior to many of the series of 1928 and 1929, yet show a ratio and quality of correspondence vastly beyond chance expectation. Remember that the 260 Guessing tests resulted in not one drawing which, being compared with the original, could possibly be regarded as a Success, and this by the independent verdicts of two judges. Of course, this does not mean that another set of 260 guesses would not show one Success or more than one, but it does show the great improbability that a particular drawing made by guess will correspond with the particular original enough so that it is possible to call it a Success. The 260 guess-drawings, according to one of the judges, showed 3 Partial Successes, 1 according to the other. Then say there was no Success and but 3 Partial Successes, and it is still unlikely that a particular drawing made in any short guess series will correspond with the particular original to the extent of being worthy of the title Success or Partial Success. On the basis of those 260 guesses we would be warranted in assuming that there would be about one-third of a likelihood of getting either a Success or a Partial Success in a series of 25. But another series of 260 guesses might be more fortunate, so call it an expectation of getting one. Professor McDougall had 25 experiments with Mrs. Sinclair.

On July 19th, “five cards drawn or chosen and sealed in envelope and thick paper at Santa Monica and presented in turn sealed to Mrs. S. at Long Beach.” Reproductions 1, 3 and 4 were failures. But agent’s No. 2 was a “prairie schooner” showing two wheels with spokes and a long black line crossing the wheels at their hubs and standing for both the bottom of the vehicle-body and the shafts in front, while the percipient drew (1) a wheel with spokes and a long black line running from the hub, and (2) a wheel-like shape without spokes, but the line extending far in one direction 204and passing through the hub and beyond the wheel a short way in the other direction, as in the original. Here we have a distinct Partial Success. Agent’s No. 5 was a postal-card picture of a part of Oxford, the most conspicuous feature in which is the tower of Magdalen College with pinnacles and high, narrow windows. The percipient made a drawing which anyone would recognize as a tower, with bristling short lines projecting upward from the top suggesting pinnacles, and high, narrow windows. The proportions of height and width are approximately correct. Below the lower window level are two parallel horizontal lines, which call attention to such lines in the original. This was drawn, however, while the percipient was holding agent’s No. 4, his No. 5, the tower, still being in his pocket. It looks like an anticipation. But when she arrived at No. 5 she wrote “Turret of a castle and trees,” and now she is right for the very original in hand, which does display, besides a river, a bridge and buildings, the conspicuous tower, and trees prominent in the picture. She added “Sword,” “Scissors,” and “Key,” which may possibly be erroneous impressions from the pinnacles. So we have here a striking result, worthy to be called a Success. I have again taken pains to go through all the originals and all the reproductions, 413 of each, and find that but once besides did an original represent a tower. It was the Eiffel Tower, and all will remember its tall, slender and tapering shape. The percipient’s drawing represented a long, slender and tapering cone—a Partial Success. And but once besides, among all 413 drawings, did the percipient present a tower. This was on the following August 16th, when, apparently as an experiment, the drawings were “done in a hurry” and no record made of the order. If compared with a particular one of the originals, the “tower top” is a Partial Success, but it probably was a Failure. So here we have the factors: out of 418 agent drawings two represent towers, and one results in a percipient Success, the other in a Partial Success; out of 418 percipient drawings two represent towers, and one is a Success, the other a Failure.

On July 20th Professor McDougall made 5 drawings “at one end of a long room, while Mrs. Sinclair tried to reproduce them at the other end.” The agent made what is supposed to be a stork, each foot furnished with three toes. The percipient made two long 205legs with three-toed feet, the legs extending from a curved line like the under side of a bird. Above and isolated is what looks like a crest, which the stork does not have. Partial Success. The 4th agent drawing is of a ringed target and a feathered arrow sticking in it, the barb not visible. The percipient drawing is practically the feathered part of the shaft. Partial Success. The 5th agent drawing shows a drum-like object with elliptical top, from the center of which a tube or spout projects vertically, with water rising from the spout, parting and falling to right and to left so that it looks something like a tree. The percipient drew (1) an ellipse, (2) an ellipse, (3) something like a very round teapot, with elliptic top and spout at an angle of 45 degrees, (4) something like the vertical trunk of a tree surmounted by a ball of foliage. Success; there are too many suggestive partial parallels to allow this to be doubted.

July 26th there were 5 experiments, all drawn by Professor McDougall except one, that being a postal-card picture of trees, bushes and the yucca in bloom. Agent’s No. 2 was a wheel with spokes and tire nicely drawn. Percipient made three circles in a row with something like the connecting rod of a locomotive across them. This is at least Suggestive. Directly before the yucca picture, the percipient described plants with flowers, but the description did not fit the original next to come, nor did the impression of flowers persist when the yucca was at hand, so I do not allow this to count at all. There were no other successes in any degree.

Then followed experiments, one a day, with Professor McDougall drawing at Santa Monica, Mrs. Sinclair drawing at the same time at Pasadena, thirty miles distant.

July 30th. A failure.

August 2nd. Original drawing: a coffee-pot, its spout at the right of peculiar shape, somewhat like the profile of a boat’s stern. The percipient’s drawing was principally made up of a vertical line like the edge of the coffee-pot, and turned to the right from its upper extremity a projection curiously like the coffee-pot’s spout. To the left of the vertical line seven dots. It may be a mere coincidence that in the original there are several, but not seven, dark spots in the drawing, placed relatively about as far from the right edge of the coffee-pot as the dots are from the vertical line in the percipient drawing. The drawing is Suggestive, at least.

206August 10th. Original drawing a teapot, and percipient’s drawing, a palm frond, was relatively to it, a failure.

August 11th. Agent drew a faucet. Percipient wrote “Teapot,” which is a failure. But agent had drawn a teapot the previous day—did percipient get a deferred telepathic impression?

August 13th. Agent drew a palm tree and percipient’s result was a failure. But, records agent, “Had it in mind to draw the palm in patio several days before. Mrs. S. seemed to get it August 10th.” No agent should have in mind to draw one thing when he actually draws another. If the result is from telepathy, not clairvoyance, a percipient is at least as likely to get that on which the agent’s mind has dwelt. On the whole it would perhaps be fair to count this as a Success.

August 16th. Agent drew a flower-pot and in it a plant with sword-shaped leaves, somewhat like a century plant. Percipient first drew what one might take to be a stalk with five straight, short leafless branches, but with the script “Velvet bow with band.” She added, “Then saw” and drew a plant—no pot—with leaves exactly of the form of the leaves in the original, and added, “I have too many leaves in the above.” Right: she had 11 leaves, the original had 7. This certainly is at least a Partial Success.

August 17th, August 18th and August 19th each yielded a Failure.

Now let us take account of stock. On the basis of our 260 experiments in guessing we would have about one-third of an expectation of finding in the McDougall experiments one Partial Success, but as another series of 260 guesses might be more fortunate we proposed to reckon a full likelihood of getting one Success or Partial Success, on the theory that Mrs. Sinclair was guessing also. But we have found 3 Successes and 4 Partial Successes (not counting a possible “anticipation,” and 2 instances of Suggestive). It is not mathematics, it is not logic, it is not common-sense to conclude that we have not, even in this series of Professor McDougall, although it does not equal some which have been exhibited, something for which chance is wholly unable to account.

It is not at all difficult to account for the fact that Professor McDougall’s results were not quite up to the average of Mrs. Sinclair’s work during the period covered by Mental Radio, both quantity 207and quality taken into consideration. In the first place, it has for many years been evident that something depends upon the degree of rapport between agent and percipient; in other words, that some persons are better suited than others to act as agents in relation to a particular percipient. Thus, we are told in the book (pages 33–34) that among the friends of Mrs. Sinclair there was one peculiarly adapted in this respect—Mrs. Kate Crane-Gartz. I venture to relate my own very limited experience, as fact, not scientifically guaranteed. I have had reason to suppose that I was getting telepathic messages only with two persons. One was with my wife the first time I ever experimented with her, and then I got most of the objects she was thinking of, more or less satisfactorily, in about eight trials. But I never again had any measurable success with her, though I tried repeatedly. The other person I was for a time in sympathetic relations with, and there occurred a number of incidents which convinced me that I was acting as a spontaneous percipient. The most striking category of these is the same which Mr. Sinclair describes when he says: “My wife will say to me, ‘Mrs. Gartz is going to phone,’ and in a minute or two the phone will ring.” Repeatedly, when I had no particular reason to think that the lady to whom I refer would ‘phone me, and when I was occupied with work, I would suddenly, as by a jerk, look at the ‘phone, expecting it to ring, and in a few moments it would do so. I have even gone to the ‘phone, almost without thinking, and stood there for half a minute or so before it did so. This period lasted for perhaps three or four months only, then faded out. Never at any other time, nor with any other person, not even with my daughter between whom and me there is the most cordial sympathy, has there been evidence of this kind sufficiently striking and repetitious to arrest serious attention. So it may well be that Professor McDougall, however amiable and fairminded he is, not having been long known to the percipient and being invested with the awe of a psychologist of extended reputation, was not so well adapted to be an agent in relation to her as her husband or her brother-in-law.

But again, while at times Mrs. Sinclair to the last of her experimentation analyzed by me got excellent results, I find that, whether because she was wearied, or too much occupied by other things, or more anxious and less spontaneous, or for whatever reason, did not 208in the later months do so well on the average as during the earlier months. The poorest stretch of the period after the material covered by the book was that from August 1 to August 28, 1929, inclusive. There were 27 experiments, of which, according to my reckoning, 2 were Successes, 1 a Partial Success, 3 Suggestive, 2 Slightly Suggestive and 19 Failures in a series of 27 experiments. The poorest stretch of experiments during the book period was that ending with the series of February 17, 1929, nevertheless shown on account of its significance. Here there were 4 Successes, 8 Partial Successes, 4 Suggestive, 1 Slightly Suggestive and 10 Failures out of the same total number of 27. So, after all, while the McDougall results did not reach the highest level of the later period, they did not by any means mark the lowest level. They greatly transcend the expectation of chance, and, with the exception of five experiments only, were achieved when agent and percipient were either thirty miles apart or at the two ends of a long room.

Attempts to Explain Otherwise Than by Telepathy

Would Chance Coincidence Explain?

It has already been proved by experiments in guessing that even the comparatively poor Dessoir results were far beyond the reach of chance. And it has been shown by experiments in guessing that the Sinclair results were much farther beyond the reach of chance. Such counter-tests may be repeated by any reader ad libitum.

Would the Kindred Ideas of Relatives Explain?

It makes one feel foolish to add anything more about the curious “thob” to the effect that what is taken for telepathy between husbands and wives is really coincidence brought about by their community of thought and tendency to think about the same things. It should be evident that even if a husband and wife knew only one hundred objects in common, that astonishing fact of limitation would not imply that the lady would be likely to think of a particular one of these, say No. 92, at the particular time that her spouse chose it. For once it may be well to show just how narrow and connubial a range of drawings a husband may submit to his wife. (See Appendix II.)

209

Would Conscious or Subconscious Fraud on the Part of the Percipient Explain?

We must squarely face every possible theory, and this is one. Mr. Sinclair himself dealt with it. We must do so more thoroughly, in spite of Mrs. Sinclair’s testimony to remarkable telepathic experiences in her earlier years (Mental Radio, p. 16), in spite of her husband’s testimony about her actually setting down in writing what “Jan” was doing at a distance before she got from him the substantially corresponding facts (pp. 21–24), and getting in dreams or by “concentration” facts concerning himself at a distance (pp. 31–33), in spite of Mrs. Sinclair’s reputation for practicality and non-credulity (pp. 17, 139), honor and conscientiousness (p. 53), her impressing her husband as being “a fanatic for accuracy” (pp. 138–139), the grave reasons which caused her to institute these experiments (p. 18; Appendix I), her intense desire to be sure, and to satisfy every misgiving of her own (pp. 136–137), her urgency that her husband should watch her work (p. 53), her variations in the methods of experimentation to see what effect they would have (pp. 80, 136–137, 144), her reluctance that her husband should publish his book until still more experiments were had (p. 137), and the great pains she takes to describe her method of development and “preparation” in order to encourage others to experiment (pp. 116, 128). All these considerations are cumulatively almost overwhelming, yet we proceed in disregard of them.

But the 7 experiments with “Bob” were at long distance, and the conditions guaranteed by “Bob” and his wife.

The 7 experiments of July 24–29, 1928, were conducted with the agent in one room and the percipient in another, thirty feet away, with a closed door between. That is to say, Mr. Sinclair, in one room, would call out “All right” when ready to draw, his wife, lying in another room, would call “All right” when she had completed her drawing, and then the two drawings were compared. He declares that there was no possible way by which Mrs. Sinclair could have seen his drawing. So that any charge of fraud would have to include him.

The 9 experiments of February 17, 1929, were thus conducted. The original drawings were made by the agent, Mr. Sinclair, while alone in his study, on green paper, enclosed in a sheet of green 210paper, the whole folded, making four thicknesses absolutely impervious to sight (as established in the office of the B.S.P.R.), put in an envelope, the envelope sealed, and the 9 envelopes put on a table by the percipient’s couch. She took each in turn and placed it over her solar plexus, kept it there until her decision was made, then sat up and made her drawing. All the while her husband sat near, but absolutely speechless until her drawing was done, when the wrappings were taken from the original drawing and it was immediately compared with the reproduction. If the experiments were at night, the reading light immediately over the percipient’s head was extinguished, since she found that somewhat subdued illumination favored passivity, but there remained sufficient light in the room for comparison of the drawings, and every movement of the woman was distinctly visible. If in the daytime, the window shades back of the couch were lowered, but again every object was distinctly visible. Under precisely these conditions, step by step, no professional magician could have obtained knowledge of the original drawing before making his own.^[25]

As we have seen, 9 of Professor McDougall’s experiments, later than the period of the book and reaching results defying the doctrine of chance, were made with thirty miles between the parties, and 10 of them with the parties at opposite ends of a long room. Five more were done with McDougall at least watching his sealed envelopes. It will probably not be suggested that he was in a conspiracy to deceive the public, but in these cases fraud could hardly have been practiced by the percipient alone.

Already we have 47 experiments, 16 with an intervening distance of above thirty miles, 7 with agent and percipient in different rooms, and 10 with agent and percipient at the two ends of a room; 14 with agent near the percipient but closely watching her and his sealed opaque envelopes.

But since Mr. Sinclair says that “several score drawings” were drawn in his study, sealed in envelopes made impervious to sight, and watched by him as one by one his wife laid them on her body and set down her impressions, the total number of experiments, guarded to this or a greater extent, aside from the later ones by McDougall, could hardly have fallen short of 120.

211Later, since Mr. Sinclair was very busy writing his novel “Boston” and disliked the interruptions, he ceased (about midway of the whole lot, he tells us) to enclose his drawings in envelopes and to watch his wife’s work. Had this been the case throughout, any report based on such “experiments” would not, scientifically speaking, be worth the paper it was written on. As it is, I should be quite willing to rest the whole case on the 120 or more guarded experiments covered by the last two paragraphs. More than that, I would be willing to rest it upon the 33 experiments conducted with the participants separated by the length of a room, thirty feet and a closed door, or thirty miles.

But the logic of the situation is entirely against the assumption that fraud was used any more after it became easily possible than before, when it would have been possible only by the connivance of various conspirators. Let us see.

1. If advantage were to be taken of the relaxation of precautions it would plainly be but for one purpose, to increase the number or the excellence of favorable results, or both. But neither the number nor the excellence of favorable results was enhanced. On the contrary, not at once, but by a general though irregular decline, the results deteriorated. The last 120 experiments of the period covered by the book brought about half again as many complete Failures as the first 120 had done. Mr. Sinclair reminds us that “Series No. 6 which was carefully sealed up, produced 4 complete Successes, 5 Partial Successes, and no Failures; whereas Series 21, which was not put in envelopes at all, produced no complete Successes, 3 Partial Successes, and 6 Failures.” The declension, which has been noted in experiments with other persons, continued, in irregular fashion, after the period of the book. We have already noted that the worst consecutive run of 27 experiments during that last period yielded 19 Failures, while the worst consecutive run of experiments during the period of the book yielded but 10 Failures. Nor is there ever again, after precautions were relaxed, a single consecutive run of seven experiments with quite such astounding results as those of the first seven experiments of all, with “Bob,” at some thirty miles distance in an air-line. Hence the percipient took no advantage of the relaxation of conditions, or she did so to make 212her work poorer on the average than it had been, which is against human nature and practically inconceivable.

2. It was almost silly to go further after fixing the fact that the opening up of opportunities for improving results by clandestine means was followed not by improvement but deterioration of results. But an examination was made to see whether the drawings underwent any modification such as would rather be expected from the introduction of a new causative factor. None; they continued to express in seemingly the same proportions, some the shape, some the idea. Still in many cases they were unrecognizable as any namable object, yet when compared with the original, showed more or less of its marked characteristics.

3. We even went so far as to compare the most of the later drawings with what could be seen of them folded and in envelopes, but unenclosed in opaque paper, when held up to the light. To be sure, Mrs. Sinclair had been accustomed to subdue the light, to lie with closed eyes in such a position that only the ceiling would have been visible had they been open, and to hold the envelope, or after the envelope itself was discarded, the paper in her hand lying on her solar plexus, all of which is an arrangement ill-adapted to “peeking.” And, to be sure, Mr. Sinclair would have been considerably surprised had he come in and found a different situation. But our experiments were meant to test whether, on the supposition that she did alter her procedure, her drawings were such as would have been explained by what was seen, even accidentally, through the folded paper held up to the light. Certainly, in that case, there would have been signs of the selection of heavy lines which showed through clearly, and some evidence of the effects from the paper being doubled. The result of the tests was negative.

It is concluded, mainly on the basis of Section 1 above, but assisted by Sections 2 and 3 were assistance necessary, that Mrs. Sinclair was as honest when unwatched as when watched, since, had fraud been used, it would have left traces. But, let me reiterate, I am favorable to any proposition to take into account only the guarded experiments, or even those guarded to an extent beyond cavil.

213

Would Involuntary Whispering Explain?

F. C. C. Hansen and Alfred Lehmann, Danish psychologists, in 1895 published a pamphlet of 60 pages entitled Über Unwillkürliches Flüstern (On Involuntary Whispering). This brochure reported experiments by the authors which, they claimed, showed that the apparent success in telepathic transmissions of numbers achieved under the control of representatives of the S. P. R. and published in its Proceedings (Vols. VI and VIII) might not have been due to telepathy, but to involuntary whispering with closed lips. Messrs. Hansen and Lehmann sat between concave spherical mirrors so that the concentration of sound, their heads occupying the foci, would presumably be an equivalent for the hyperaesthesia of a hypnotized “percipient.” Each in turn acted as agent, to see if figures could be conveyed by “involuntary whispering,” and seemed to have a large degree of success. How it is possible to test whether audible whispering can be produced with closed lips and do so without the exercise of volition is something of a mystery. And how they could be certain that some factor of telepathy did not enter into their own experiments is not clear.^[26] But Professor Sidgwick, who five years before Hansen and Lehmann’s pamphlet had considered and discussed the possibility of “unconscious whispering,”^[27] later instituted experiments of his own and concluded that something in this direction was possible. But he, William 214James and others thoroughly riddled the Hansen and Lehmann dream that perhaps they had explained the published S. P. R. series of experiments for the transfer of numbers. For one thing, a part of the experiments had been with the parties in different rooms. And the notion that when the voluntarily involuntary whisper^[28] of a digit was misheard, a digit whose name somewhat resembled was most likely to be selected by the agent, was riddled too, so far as it applied to the English experiments. The Danish gentlemen had never claimed that their explanatory theory was proved, but only that it was probable. Later they quite frankly acknowledged that the Sidgwick and James “experiments and computations” had weakened even its probability.

Since their pamphlet had attracted much and widespread interest, as it deserved to do, and since if they could establish or even strengthen the probability of their theory it would mean a restoration and enhancement of their prestige, set back by the counter-strokes of Sidgwick, James, Schiller and others, it would seem that the inducement not to stop short, but to go on with the experimentation would be almost irresistible. But they either did stop there or their results were disappointing, for nothing more, so far as I can learn, was ever heard from them on this subject.

Nevertheless, the possibility, especially on the part of a hyperaesthetic percipient, of catching, to some extent, the sound of unintended whispering by the agent stationed nearby, especially where there is no guarantee that his lips are always closed, must be admitted. This possibility has impressed some investigators, and especially Herr Richard Baerwald, even beyond all logical grounds. The named writer has said also fort mit den Nahversuchen (so away with near-experimentation)! I certainly agree that experiments for telepathy should be made with sufficient space between agent and percipient to make the suggestion that there may have been some perception of involuntary whispering manifestly incredible and absurd. Such was Mrs. Sinclair’s success under such conditions as to make it probable that if there had been many scores of experiments under the same conditions a like staggering ratio of success would have been maintained. Nevertheless, I must maintain that 215the involuntary whispering theory fails to touch many of the Sinclair experiments attended with one or another degree of success, considering their nature and the peculiar character of the percipient drawings.

In the first place, let me observe that where the experiments were to transfer numbers the range of choice on the part of the percipient, endeavoring to interpret any faintly heard indications by the posited involuntary whispering, was strictly limited. If the agent were to choose a figure from one to naught inclusive, the percipient’s range for guessing would be but ten digits. If the agent was to choose some figure from one to ninety-nine inclusive, the range for guessing would of course be greater, yet more limited than at first appears to be the case. There would be the ten digits, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, and in addition only combinations from among the foregoing or made up of a digit with “teen” or “ty” added. But where the agent drew whatever he pleased, generally an object, his range was unlimited, and the task of the percipient interpreting any indications by involuntary whispering would be much more difficult. But still it would be theoretically possible. So we turn to the next and overwhelming point.

Whenever the agent’s drawing was one which could be indicated by a name, and the percipient’s result corresponded to the extent covered by the name, it is easy to apply the theory of involuntary whispering if the agent was near the percipient. Granting that this was the case (which often, as will appear later, we cannot grant, since the facts forbid it), it is easy theoretically to explain the response “Sailboat” to the drawing of a sailboat. We have only to suppose that the agent was so intently interested that, unknown to himself, he faintly whispered the name, and that the percipient, having ex hypothesi, abnormal alertness of hearing, caught the word, or enough of it so that she successfully guessed the whole. Still easier is it to imagine the transmission of Y in the series of January 28–29. The agent, being absorbed and desirous, simply whispered “Y, Y, Y,” until the percipient got it. The reader may pick for himself other plausible instances in Mr. Sinclair’s book, or even from the materials furnished in this Bulletin, such as the helmet experiment (Figs. 5, 5a). It is even conceivable that the 216agent’s eye, flitting over the drawing of the peacock (Fig. 75) caused him to whisper “long neck” and “spots” or “eyes” (Fig. 75a), although no spots appear in this drawing and “peacock” is the word he would be expected to whisper, if any. But every increasing complexity in the agent’s drawing, which finds duplication in that of the percipient, every increasing difficulty of defining the drawing by one or two words increases the difficulty of the explanation. Take the remarkable correspondence between Figures 7, 7a. The agent, it seems, would have to whisper the following, or its equivalent: “Cross” (or “radiating figure”), “eight arms” (or “many arms”), “arms not made of a single line but having breadth,” “notches in the ends.” That is a lot for the agent to whisper, and it appears improbable, but maybe it is “conceivable.”

A much-esteemed friend writes me: “Those willing to press the unconscious whispering hypothesis to its extreme consequences need not invariably postulate the transmission direct of a word. They may go further. Let us suppose that in an experiment at close quarters the name thought of by the agent is ‘Napoleon,’ and that the percipient gets a small island and the name ‘Helen.’ It is theoretically conceivable that, nevertheless, the explanation is to be sought in involuntary whispering; the name ‘Napoleon’ was perceived in a normal way (unconsciously) and then in the percipient’s subconscious transformed into an idea associated with Napoleon’s name. I do not say this is my opinion, but what I do say is that such an hypothesis is no more absurd than other ‘explanations’ put forward in the sphere of psychical research. Anyhow, experiments at close quarters seem to be open to the grave objection that some competent investigators reject them altogether—whatever we may think of the grounds of such objection.”

Conceivable, yes, though hardly likely. When a medium for “automatic” writing or speaking is in undoubted trance, she habitually makes direct response to any intimations from without, and it is common to make it a reproach that she makes direct and unblushing use of any information inadvertently dropped by a person present. Why the subconscious should act in so devious a fashion in another species of experimentation, why it should either from device or some mechanism now set in motion withhold the word “Napoleon” caught from the agent’s involuntary whispering and 217set down instead words significantly associated with Napoleon, is something of a puzzle. The trance-medium’s subconscious, according to the explanation theory, is always eager to shine, and takes advantage of every source of information or inference to improve its product. Yet the subconsciousness of the percipient in experiments for telepathy, having heard the word “Napoleon” involuntarily whispered, deliberately avoids achieving a full success! If done at all, I should judge this was consciously done, that the percipient consciously heard and consciously avoided the word. And this is conceivable.

But that there should be so many reproductions which strikingly resemble the originals in shape, yet which do not represent the objects which the agent drew, and have no more ideational connection with them than can be traced between a cockroach and an archangel, or between a violin and an eel, and yet that the explanation for the correspondences should lurk in the involuntary whispering of the agent, I maintain is practically inconceivable. Between Figures 25 and 25a there is an unmistakable close resemblance of shape, in each two lines forming an inverted and sprawling V, with a swirl of lines in each forming a similar shape of similar dimensions proceeding in the same direction from the apex. But the percipient wholly misinterpreted the meaning of what she was impressed to draw. What affinity is there between an active volcano and a “big black beetle with horns”? Run through all the terms you can think of which the agent could have involuntarily whispered descriptive of his drawing, if he whispered anything—“volcano,” “mountain,” “smoke,” “angle,” etc., and what could possibly have suggested the impression which the percipient received? Look at Figures 118, 118a in the same series, and ask what the agent could have whispered about his caterpillar which should suggest a shape considerably resembling that of the caterpillar but intended to represent a long narrow leaf with serrated edge. To be sure, a caterpillar sometimes walks on a leaf, as a big black beetle may perhaps light on the side of a volcano, but surely it will not be concluded that the agent would have whispered so discursive a remark. Whispering “caterpillar” would not result in “leaf,” and if “legs” had been whispered, surely legs would have resulted and “many” would at least have increased their number beyond the 218number of points in the reproduction. View again Figures 108 and 108a in the same series with the two foregoing. If the agent whispered anything, would it not have been “hand,” solely first and principally? Imagine, if you please, that he also whispered “thumb sticking up.” But a negro’s head is not a hand, nor what the word “hand” would suggest, nor does a thumb ever grow out of a negro’s head, yet out of this negro’s head rises that projection curiously like a thumb. Neither would “hand” suggest a “pig’s head,” yet the pig’s ear resembles the thumb, and the rest of the head carries a certain amount of analogy with the hand. Again, “rabbit’s head” is written, but little more than the ears are drawn, each a thumb-like projection, and as in the other attempts at reproduction and in the original, straight upward. There is no association of ideas between a hand and a pig’s or rabbit’s head. Look at Figure 20, representing a coiled snake, and read again the description of her impressions which the percipient wrote. Between the snake and much of that description there is an association of ideas which we can follow. The whispered word “snake” might naturally rouse a picture of the fright which the apparition of a snake inflicts upon birds and small animals. While it does not seem like either the conscious or subconscious, having heard the word “snake,” which surely would have been the first and foremost one to whisper, to suppress it and make a clear success a debatable one, we admit that this is “conceivable.” But what about the “saucer of milk”? The agent may theoretically be supposed to whisper “snake,” “coiled,” “tail,” “head,” but hardly “saucer.” I may here be reminded that some snakes drink milk, whether from a saucer or any other receptacle. But in Mrs. Sinclair’s imagery it is a kitten that is associated with the milk—a much more common combination. Leaving this case, which is conceivably conceivable as the result of involuntary whispering plus a strange effort to spoil a success in hand, let us turn to the series of February 15th. Most of its members are to the point, but we will mention only a few. What association of ideas is there between a spigot and a dog’s leg (Figs. 96, 96a)? The name “Napoleon” might indeed cause one to think of an island named St. Helena, or another one named Elba, or a woman named Josephine. But why on earth should the whispered word “spigot” cause one to think of a dog’s leg and “front foot”? 219The association of ideas is not there, but the curiously resembling particulars of shape are there. Whatever the agent may be supposed to whisper in connection with the drawing shown in Figure 98, surely “box” would be a part of it. And as surely, if the three marks of the box were mentioned in the whispering they would have been called “crosses,” and not “stars” or “sparks” as in the reproduction. And “crosses” do not naturally suggest either stars or sparks. Figures 94 and 94a unquestionably have resemblances in general shape, in the two pedals which are transformed into feet, in vertical lines within the periphery. But why should the word “harp” bring a woman’s skirt and feet peeping beneath it? Perhaps we shall be told it is because a woman plays on a harp. A woman does, yes, but not half a woman, and that half standing so that her skirt takes the form of a harp. If conceivable that “Napoleon” should rouse a vision of an island and induce the drawing of an island, would the island take the shape of half of Napoleon’s body? The mind, conscious or subconscious, does not act in that fashion. Again, the percipient’s drawing which was the sequel to the agent’s balloon (Figs. 95, 95a) is not by itself recognizable as a balloon, and was not recognized by the percipient as a balloon, for she wrote, as we inadvertently neglected earlier to state, “Shines in sunlight, must be metal, a scythe hanging among vines or strings.” The involuntarily whispered word “balloon” would hardly, by any association of ideas, have led to such a reaction; nor would the agent have whispered “half a balloon” or “scythe.” But we can understand how the agent’s eye may have dwelt upon one side or half of the balloon and how his attention may have wandered to the cords, with corresponding telepathic results. See Figures 92, 92a. Here the analogies of form, although imperfect, are nevertheless unmistakable, but what association of ideas could have led from the involuntarily whispered word “chain” or “links,” to “eggs” and “smoke,” or to “curls of something coming out of the end of an egg”? At a later date the agent drew a mule’s head and neck, with breast-strap crossing the lower part of his neck, forming a strip curving very slightly up from the horizontal. The percipient’s drawing is of the head and part of the neck of a cow, turned in the same direction. The long ears of the mule have become the horns of the cow, and matching the breast-strap of the mule there appears 220a narrow horizontally extended parallelogram in front of the cow’s neck and extremity of its muzzle, which last the percipient seemingly tries to explain by the script “Cow’s head in ‘stock.’” But if the agent involuntarily whispered “mule,” it would hardly suggest a cow, if he whispered “long ears,” it should not have resulted in long horns, if “breast-strap” or “strap” or “harness,” this would hardly bring as its reaction the narrow parallelogram, which, whatever it is, is manifestly no part of a harness. The resemblances in shape are distinct and unmistakable, but they are incomprehensible as the result of overheard whispering. Or look again at Figures 78, 78a. The percipient, especially in the first of her two drawings, very nearly reproduces the original, but the barb of the fishhook has become a tiny flower with a curving stem. The resemblance in shape is exceedingly impressive, but what words could have been whispered about a fishhook which by association of ideas led to the flower?

So we might go on citing examples in the same category, which the doctrine of transformation by association of ideas of words whispered and heard utterly fails to explain. But the reader may find them for himself, either in this Bulletin or from the wider range of illustrations in Mental Radio.^[29]

Concluding Observations

We have remarked that if there was involuntary whispering, it could easily explain the percipient response “Sailboat,” and that by no circumambulatory process but by direct reaction, since the original drawing was a sailboat and “sailboat” would be the most natural if not inevitable word for an agent, intent on the experiment, and anxious for its success, to whisper involuntarily. The same may be said of the goat (Fig. 138), the chair (Figs. 16, 16a), the fork (Figs. 1, 1a), the star (Figs. 2, 2a)—except the extraordinary correspondence of odd shape, and the man’s face (Fig. 20). But the star and man’s face results were obtained when the agent was thirty feet away in another room with closed door between, while the 221agent looked at it but probably did not whisper so as not to attract his own attention but to be audible through walls for thirty feet. The chair and the fork were reproduced when the agent was some thirty miles away. The sailboat and goat were made in the latter period when the percipient was left alone with the drawings, and involuntary whispering is not a possible explanation. Part of the other examples given are from the period when Mr. Sinclair sat in the same room and watched the percipient’s work, and partly from the later unguarded period.

So, in order to explain the results of the experiments as a whole they have to be divided into three categories, and a different theory applied to each.

I. Experiments in which the agent was near the percipient. Theory: Involuntary Whispering. Insuperable difficulty in applying the theory: Many of the percipient drawings are shaped significantly like the originals in whole or in parts, yet do not represent the same objects as do the originals, or objects which whispered words relevant to the original objects would suggest, directly or by association of ideas.

II. Experiments of the later stage when the percipient was left alone unwatched with the original drawings in her possession. Theory: Conscious or unconscious inspection of the original drawings. Difficulty which the theory faces: The results did not improve or undergo alterations due to a new cause during the unguarded period.

III. Experiments when agent and percipient were either thirty feet apart in different rooms, with a closed door between, under which circumstances it is incredible that involuntary whispering could have been heard, or thirty miles apart, in which case it is unquestionably impossible that involuntary whispering could have carried. Theory: Chance coincidence. This is the only theory left for such experiments, unless conspiracy is charged, and that at different times would have to include not only Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, but Mr. Irwin, Mrs. Irwin, the Sinclairs’ secretary and Professor McDougall. Refutation of the theory: The experiments in this class were of such number and had such success both in number and quality as to challenge the production of any such success by 222guessing though hundreds of series each of an equal number of experiments should be gone through with.

It is credible that the large percentage of Successes and Partial Successes in the first 14 experiments and 24 among the latest ones should have been obtained by one method, that (aside from these) during the earlier months another and quite different method should have been employed, and that (still aside from these) later a third and quite different method should have been resorted to, and yet the whole mass of results be homogeneous? It would certainly be expected that the inauguration of any new method would in some way be reflected in the nature of the results. But the lot produced with intervening distances too great to admit of the involuntary whispering theory melts imperceptibly into the lot produced with the agent and percipient together so that the involuntary whispering process is conceivable, and this in turn melts imperceptibly into the lot where all precautions are discarded, and this again into long-distance experiments and out, without it being possible to detect any changes in the character of the results at the points of junction. Throughout there is homogeneity, some successes being correct literally, some incompletely and partially, some results only suggestive and some entire failures. Throughout we find some corresponding in both shape and meaning, some in idea but not shape, and some in shape only and misinterpreted by the percipient; in fact, all the peculiarities of Mrs. Sinclair’s work are to be found in about equal proportions in all stages. There is perceptible a gradual though irregular tendency to decline in the ratio of success achieved, but in such a manner that the decline cannot be chronologically connected with any of the changes of method.

The “peeking” theory cannot be applied to the experiments of Class I. The “involuntary whispering” theory cannot be applied to the experiments of Class II. Neither the “peeking” nor the “involuntary whispering” theory can be applied to experiments of Class III.

Only the theory of chance coincidence can be applied as a single explanation of the experiments of all three classes. Let this be done and there is simply massed a greater amount of material for the demolition of the chance coincidence theory by anyone 223who will undertake a large series of precisely parallel experiments in Guessing.

For myself, I am willing to say, perhaps for the fourth time, that I am willing to rest the whole case on those experiments to which no one, presumably, will have the hardihood to apply either the theory of “involuntary whispering” or that of “peeking,” that is to say, those experiments in which agent and percipient were either in separate rooms or many miles apart.

An Interpretation of Mrs. Sinclair’s Directions

Mrs. Sinclair, on pages 116–128 of Mental Radio, outlines on the basis of her own experience the method which she thinks best calculated to develop an ability to attain at will a mental state which will enable some of her readers to receive and record telepathic impressions to an evidential degree. I propose, at the same time recommending that prospective experimenters shall obtain the book and read the full directions, to attempt a condensation of them. To some extent I shall interpret them; that is, state them in other terms, which it is hoped will not be the less lucid. As a matter of psychological fact, you cannot “make your mind a blank,” though you can more or less acquire the art of doing at will what you sometimes involuntarily do—you can practice narrowing the field of consciousness, so that instead of being aware of many things external and of various bodily sensations, your attention is fixed almost exclusively for a time on one mental object. Some persons at times become so absorbed in a train of thought that with eyes open and with conversation around them they are hardly conscious of anything seen or heard. But it is best to assist the attainment of such a state as Mrs. Sinclair does, by closing the eyes, and it is best that silence should prevail. When one remembers how in revery he has become oblivious to all around him, or how when witnessing an entrancing passage in a play everything in the theatre except the actors and their immediate environment has faded out of consciousness, he will have no difficulty in understanding what Mrs. Sinclair really means by saying that “it is possible to be unconscious and conscious at the same time,” although taken literally that is not a correct statement.

224But, according to her, in order to be in the state best fitted for telepathic reception, it is not enough to narrow the field of consciousness until, approximately, only one train of thought on a mentally conceived subject occupies it. There must be cultivated also, in as high a degree as possible, an ability to shut out memories and imaginations, and to wait for and to receive impressions, particularly those of mental imagery, which seem to come of themselves, and to expend the mental energy upon watching, selecting from and determining these.

We are told that it is important to relax—“to ‘let go’ of every tense muscle, every tense spot, in the body,” and that auto-suggestion, mentally telling oneself to relax, will help. Along with this there should be a letting-go, or progressive quietening, of consciousness.

She wisely says that if in spite of you the selected mentally-visualized rose or violet rouses memories by suggesting a lost sweetheart, a vanished happy garden, or what not, you should substitute thinking of another flower which has no personal connotations for you. It must be some “peace-inspiring object,” even a spoon might suggest medicine. The reader will understand that we are now discussing the means for cultivating ability to fall at will into the state for telepathic reception; we are not talking about experiments with that end in view.

After considerable practice of this kind one will tend to fall asleep. It seems that it is right to nearly come to that point, but one must stop a little this side of the sleeping stage.

When one feels that some success has attended the practice described above, he may proceed to actual experiments. The amateur experimenter is advised at first to experiment in the dark, or at least in a dimly-lit room, as light stimulates the eyes.

She goes on to say what means that you should induce mental relaxation and passivity, narrow the field of consciousness. But at this point I must depart from Mrs. Sinclair’s precepts and recommend her own best practice. Her very first seven formal experiments were with her brother-in-law making his drawings some 225thirty miles away. The results were so remarkable that they deserve to arrest the attention of every psychologist. The next seven experiments were made with agent and percipient in different rooms, shut off from each other by solid walls; and their results also were very impressive. Therefore I see no reason why amateurs experimenting according to the light that they get from Mrs. Sinclair should not make their very first attempts in another room from the agent. Let the latter do as we find in the book was done; make his drawing, call out “All right” when he is done, and gaze steadfastly at the drawing until the percipient has made hers and signalized the fact by calling out “All right,” then proceed to make another and repeat the process. At least part of the time, let there be another person with the agent keeping watch upon his lips and throat muscles, lest the desperate theory should be advanced that at the distance of, say, thirty feet and through solid walls “involuntary whispering” on the part of the agent reached the ears of the percipient.

But how shall the percipient further conduct herself (we are here supposing the percipient is a woman) as the means of getting telepathic impressions? Adapting the directions given in the book, we should say that, lying on the couch with eyes dosed, and having sunk into that state of mental abstraction which she is supposed now to be capable of attaining, she is to order her subconscious mind, very calmly but positively, to bring the agent’s drawing to her mind.

And now we quote literally from the book, even to the expressions about making the mind a blank. Although not technically correct, it may be that to many not versed in psychology the expressions will be actually the best to suggest to them what they are to do.

Mrs. Sinclair warns that “the details of this technique are not to be taken as trifles,” and that to develop and make it serviceable “takes time, and patience, and training in the art of concentration.” There are special difficulties, at least in her case. In undertaking a new experiment what she last saw before closing her eyes again, particularly the electric light bulb which she lighted in order to make her drawing or drawings, appeared in her mind, and also the 226memory of the last picture. “It often takes quite a while to banish these memory ghosts. And sometimes it is a mistake to banish them,” a fact which we have noted several times in the account of her work. Another difficulty is to restrain one’s tendency when a part or what may be a part of the original appears, to guess what the rest may be, and to keep the imagination bridled.

It is quite probable—and this Mrs. Sinclair recognizes—that the procedure, now fairly clearly outlined, may not in all its details be suited to all minds capable of telepathic reception. Mr. Rawson, as we shall see in Part II, when successful, was nearly always so almost instantly. On the other hand, the percipients in the Schmoll and Mabire series were often as long as fifteen minutes making their choice. But it would be wise to begin along the lines of the instructions, and make modifications of method, if any, in the light of what personal experience suggests.

It is hoped that there will be readers of this Bulletin disposed to school themselves and to experiment in conformity with the above instructions, patiently and persistently, and that, successful or not, they will make careful records and report to the Research Officer.

APPENDIX I

Why Are We Like This?

(Parts of a Hitherto Unpublished Manuscript by Mrs. Sinclair)

There comes a time in the life of each of us when we begin to wonder what it is all about—this life. I mean, to want, with all one’s bewildered and troubled heart, to know. What is life, what is the purpose of it, above all, what is the reason for the preponderance of the pain of it? This brief earthly existence, with its series of cares and sorrows and bafflements—what is the purpose of it? It seemed so full of purpose in our youth—full, rather of purposes, for youth has no one purpose. Youth’s purpose is to fulfill what seems to be the little purposes of each day, such as evading unpleasant things and pursuing the pleasant ones. But as we pass on through the days of our youth, toward early middle-age, we realize that these eagerly, zestfully pursued purposes of youth were 227thwarted, one by one. If achieved, they brought some penalty, or disappointment.

Three years ago, being ill and not happy,^[30] reached the crisis of questioning. I wanted to know how to get well, and I wanted to know why I wanted to get well. And so, I began to ask, where is the path toward knowledge? In which little store-house will I find a clue to the answer? I went to see the medical men who have access to one little store-house. I went to the psychological healers who have access to another little store-house. And I went to the only religious group in the world today which seemed to have any real, or living religion.^[31] From all three of these sources, one clue, one hint, stood out as a real clue. From the mass of purported knowledge it appeared to me to be the most significant. It seemed to be the thing which produced results in all these three domains, though the priests and priestesses of but one of them seemed aware of the great significance of this hint.

It had to do with man’s mind, to begin with, but it seemed to lead into the very heart of all the universe—into our “material bodies,” as well as into our mental hopes and longings and joys and despairs. So I set to work to experiment first with telepathy and clairvoyance. If clairvoyance is real, I said, then we may have access to all knowledge. We may really be fountains, or outlets of one vast mind. To have access to all knowledge.

If telepathy is real, I said, then my mind is not my own. I’m just a radio receiving set, which picks up the thoughts of all the other creatures of this universe. I and the universe of men are one. I had long known, of course, that my body was not my own—that it picked up sun-rays, and cold-waves, and sound-vibrations, which shook the atoms of my being into new forms; that I picked up iron and sulphur, and phosphorus, and vitamines, and what not, when I ate the plants and animals of my universe; in short, that I had to pick up the constituents of a new body in the form of “fresh air” and “water” and “food” every day of my life in order to maintain 228the hold I had on the thing I called my body. But somehow, in the vague way in which we think of the mind, I had felt that mine was entirely my own. Surely it was not dependent on, nor at the mercy of, outside forces—except in the one horrible, inexorable way of its dependence on my own body. It was free, of course, to accept ideas from other minds, if it wished; but it did not have to, unless it wanted to. So I had believed. Now, with my new clue, I began to wonder if all my life I had not been in error in my thinking, if I had not got the scheme of things turned upside down. Had I been looking at an image in a mirror, a reversal of the truth? Was my body dependent on my mind when I had thought my mind was dependent on my body? Was it sick when my mind was, and did it die when my mind died—of discouragement? And was my mind my own, or did it receive and accept thoughts constantly from all the other creatures of the universe without my being able to prevent it, without my even knowing it? * * *

What is myself, anyway—body or mind, or both, or one and the same thing, or—what? I must find out! Is my mind a hodge-podge of its own thoughts and the silent, ever-changing thoughts of all other creatures, just as my body is a hodge-podge of the elements of the plants and animals and light-rays it is fed on and made of?

Here were a lot of questions which had become terribly important, and I couldn’t answer them, I couldn’t really answer any of them. But I had a clue—a new clue which might lead—anywhere—to heaven or to hell. * * *

Some of the best scientific minds of the world have experimented with telepathy and believe that it is a proven fact. I have read much of this evidence, and I have watched a “medium” demonstrate telepathy. But perhaps he was deceiving himself—perhaps he used some trick without realizing it, such as listening to the breathing of the sender of the thoughts he received. I do not see how this could be, but it is possible, so I am told by experienced investigators of psychic phenomena. However, there is this mass of evidence, in books, written by men of the highest scientific training who have made experiments in telepathy and who are convinced that it is a fact. * * *

But despite all this evidence, I seem to be uncertain. And this is too serious a matter to leave to uncertainty. So I set to work to 229make my own experiments. I have experimented already with a “medium,” but I have been warned about the mediumistic temperament. These psychically sensitive persons are, thanks to the very quality of mind which causes them to be sensitive, overly prone to unconscious thinking which is supposed to take a form of conscious instability. So I must find a hard-boiled materialistic-thinking person to experiment with—one who is prone to object thinking, who can maintain a wide-awake consciousness with which to watch his own thoughts to prevent any self-deception, while I, by a trustworthy mechanical device, i.e., a writing pad and pencil, protect my mind from deceiving itself. I find such a hard-boiled object mind in the person of my brother-in-law, who is a most capable, practical business man, and whose philosophy of life does not include any “mysticism,” or unconscious knowledge. Being ill, however, and with no better way to pass the time, he consents to act as sender of telepathic messages to me. He is domiciled thirty miles away from me, and so we cannot look over each other’s shoulders at drawings, nor listen to each other’s breathing.

We proceed as follows: Each day at one o’clock, an hour which suits the convenience of both of us, he sits at a table in his home and makes a drawing of some simple object, such as a table-fork, or an ink-bottle, a duck, or a basket of fruit.^[32] Then he gazes steadily at his drawing while he concentrates his mind intently on “visualizing” the object before him. In other words, he does not let his mind wander one instant from the picture of the fork, or the ink-bottle, or whatever he has drawn. He may gaze at the original object instead of at his drawing, but he must not think of anything else but how it looks. The purpose of the drawing is for proof to me that this was actually what he thought of at the appointed hour. If his mind wanders off to thoughts of something else, which he has no drawing of, I may get these wandering thoughts. Then he will forget these wandering, unrecorded thoughts, and I will have nothing to prove that he ever thought them.

230When he has finished the fifteen minutes of steady concentration on one object, he dates his drawing and puts it away, until the time when we are to meet and compare our records. At my end of the “wireless,” I have done a different mental stunt. I have reclined on a couch, with body completely relaxed and my mind in a dreamy, almost unconscious state, alternating with a state of gazing, with closed eyes, into grey space, looking on this grey background for whatever picture, or thought-form may appear there. When a form appears, I record it at once. I reach for my pad and pencil and write down what I have seen, and make a drawing of it, and then I relax again and look dreamily into space again to see if another vision will appear, or if this same one will return to assure me that it is the right one. At the end of fifteen minutes, the period of time we arbitrarily agreed upon for each day’s experiment, I date my drawing and file it until the day comes to compare notes with my brother-in-law.

Each day thereafter, for several days, my brother-in-law goes through this same performance, varying it only by his choice of a different object to draw and concentrate upon each time. Every three or four days we meet and compare notes.

One day, while I lay passively waiting for a “vision,” a chair of a certain design floated before my mind. It was so vivid that I felt absolutely certain that this was the object my brother-in-law, thirty miles away, was visualizing for me. Other objects on other occasions had been vivid, but this one was not merely vivid; in some mysterious way, it carried absolute conviction with it. I knew positively that my mind was not deceiving me. I was so sure that this chair had come “on the air” from my brother-in-law’s mind to mine, that I jumped up and went to the telephone and rang him up. His wife was in the room with him and my husband was in the room with me, and we called on them as witnesses—for we had set out on the experiment determined that there was to be no deception, of each other, nor of ourselves. I wanted the truth about this matter—I was at life’s crisis, at the place where my whole soul cried out, “What is the meaning of it all, anyway?” And my brother-in-law knew my mood, and a painful, lingering illness was rapidly bringing him to share it. My vision of the chair, and my drawing of it, were entirely correct. This was our first thrilling 231success. Others followed it, and in the meantime, my husband and I had made together some similar experiments, with success. Before the summer was over, four persons—my husband, my brother-in-law, his wife, and I—had become convinced of the reality of telepathy. Then, having read a book by an English physicist (An Experiment With Time, by J. W. Dunne), I began keeping records of my dreams according to Mr. Dunne’s method, in order to see if, as he thought, they would render evidence of foreknowledge of future events. Clairvoyance is the usual term for this form of psychic phenomena, but Mr. Dunne, being a physicist, is averse to mixing it with psychic things to the extent of using the regular language, so he calls it “an experiment with time” and writes a book about it in the language of physics. Not being a physicist, I’m quite willing to stick to the well-known word, clairvoyance, even at the risk of repelling those ignorant persons who think that all psychic phenomena is trickery. There are hordes of charlatans who call themselves mediums, just as there are hordes of physicians who are charlatans, and of Christians who are cheats, and of bankers who are dishonest. So, having read Mr. Dunne’s useful book, I set out to record my dreams and to watch for their “coming true.” Some of them did. Some which could not be accounted for by coincidence. Some others came true which were clearly due to telepathy between my husband’s mind and my own. I dreamed that I was doing things which it turned out he was actually doing, at a distance from me, and at the time at which I was having the dream. Also, during these months, I made some experiments on a young hypnotist I knew. I had no intention of letting him hypnotize me, but I asked him to try to. I knew he would never consent to the telepathy experiment if he suspected it; he would not want me reading his secret thoughts. But he had played some tricks on me, so I felt justified. And so, when he concentrated on the task of putting me into a hypnotic sleep, I concentrated on “seeing” his thoughts. Again and again I succeeded in this experiment. I discovered his sorrows, his sins, his hopes, his daily adventures. And I recorded them and faced him with them and became his “Mother Confessor,”—and most generously rewarded his unintentional confidence. I am sure he will agree that I made a full return to him for the knowledge he inadvertently 232enabled me to obtain—the knowledge of the interaction of minds. * * *

APPENDIX II

Classified complete list of drawings made by Mr. Upton Sinclair in his experiments with Mrs. Sinclair, plus those by his secretary, mostly diagrams, and the seven by her brother-in-law, from July 8, 1928, to March 16, 1929, inclusive, being the period covered by his book.

Diagrams, Etc.

Asterisks—five. Circles—five small, Circles—ten small, Circles—six concentric, Circles—three interlinking, Circle and Center, etc, Crescent—approximate, Cross—pattée, Cross—swastika, Cross—swastika, Cross—eight arms, notched at ends, Diamond, Heart, Hexagon, Horn-shaped figure, Oblong—vertical, Oval—over larger oval and touching it, Spiral, Spiral, Squares—four concentric, Star—odd-shaped, Star—six-pointed, Triangles—three concentric, Wheel—figure like rimless.

Letters of Alphabet

(Script) B, E, M, Y. (Print) KKK, M.C.S., M.C.S., T, UPTON, W—lying on its side?

Figures, Etc.

2, 5, 13, 6, $

Human Beings

Boy—with hoop, Eye—dropping tears, Face—grinning, Face—grinning, Face—hairy, Face—man’s, bearded, Face—round, with round ears, Foot—with roller skate, Girl, Hand—with pointing finger, “Happy Hooligan,” Head—of boy, wearing hat, Head—of girl, wearing hat, Head—of man, bald, profile, Head—profile, Head and Bust—of woman, bundle on head, Leg and Foot—in buckled shoe, Leg and Foot—with roller skate, Legs—two, one of wood, Man—line and circle, Man—profile, waiter, Man—walking, Man and Woman, Mandarin, Men—line and circle, Skull and Crossbones, Woman—nude.

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Mammals

Bat, Bat—with wings spread, Cow—head, Cow—head, tongue protruding, Cow—horned, Cow—rear half, Cow—rear half, Deer—running, front part, Dog—and man’s foot, Elephant, Fox—running, Goat (probably), Horse—head, Kitten—running after string, Monkey—hanging from bough, Rat, Reindeer, Walrus, Whale—spouting, Wolf—head.

Birds

Bird—baby, Bird—head, Chicken—coming from shell, Chicken—cooked, on plate, Duck—with feet, Eagle, Heron, Nest—with eggs, Parrot—head, Peacock, Rooster.

Insects, Fishes, Etc.

Butterfly, Caterpillar, Crab, Fish, Inch-worm—curved, Insect—eight-legged, Lobster, Shell—sea, Snake, Snake, Spider, Turtle.

Vegetation

Acorn, Apple, Bean—lima (?), Cactus—branch, Carnation, Cat-tail, Cat-tail, Celery, Clover—three-leaf (?), Clover—three-leaf (?), Daisy, Flower, Flower—on stalk, Flower—with narrow leaves, Leaf, Leaf—poplar (?), Melon—on inclined plane, Plant—potted, Roses—pink, with green leaves, Tree—branch, Tree—odd, Tree—palm, Tree—bare, with pointed limbs.

Household

Ash-can—with bail, Bed, Bottle, Bottle—milk, Bottle—square, lower half shaded, Broom, Broom, Bureau and mirror, Camp-stool, Candelabrum, Chair, Chair, Chair—easy, Cup—with handle, Desk—four-legged, Dish—with rising steam, Door-knob, Electric Light Bulb—(object itself), Electric Light Bulb, Fork—table, Fork—three-pronged, long handle, Glass—drinking, Key, Key, Lamp—burning, Lamp—burning, Picture—black frame, Spigot, Table, Table—with curved legs, Telephone, Telephone, Vase—ovoid, Wall-hook.

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Personal

Bag, Bag—round, with protruding top, Belt-buckle, Book—black, Bottle—pen and ink, Box—rounded, with cover up, Cane, Cane, Cap, Cigarette—smoking, Clock—alarm, Eye-glasses, Eye-glasses, Fan—partly spread, Fan—spread, Hat, Hat, Hat—with feather, Necktie, Pin—diamond, Pipe—smoking, Pipe—smoking, Ring—with stone, Scissors, Shoe, Soap—cake, Suit—man’s, with knee breeches, Tooth-brush, Tooth-brush, Watch, Watch, Watch, Watch—face.

War, Hunting, Etc.

Arrow, Bow and Arrow, Cannon, Cannon—muzzle, Daggers—with hilts, crossed, Epaulet, Fish-hook, Fish-hook, Fish-hook, Helmet, Trench-mortar—pointing up.

Recreation

Balloon, Cart—child’s, Dumb-bell, Dumb-bell, Football, Hammock—slung from post, Indian Club, Skyrocket, Sled, Tennis Racket, Tennis Racket, Tennis Racket.

Transportation

Automobile, Elevated Railroad, Railroad Engine, Sailboat, Sailboat, Sailboat—side view, Sled—drawn by dogs, Steamboat—on water.

Objects Related to Sound

Bell, Bell, Bell—lines radiating from tongue, Harp, Horn—straight, Mandolin, Musical Staff, Notes—musical, Tuba—brass, Violin.

Buildings, Etc.

Column, Derrick—oil, Derrick—oil, Door—with grating, Frieze Design, Gable end—with tall chimney, House—with many dots for windows, House—with smoking chimney, House—with smoking chimney, Obelisk, Pillar, etc., Pillars—row, etc., Wind-mill.

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Miscellaneous

Ax and written word “Ax,” Box—open, Box—with three crosses, Butterfly-net, Flag, Flag—Japanese, fringed, on staff, Fleur-de-lis, Gate, Gibbet and Noose, Globe—world, Hearts—two, pierced by arrow, Hill—with birds above, Hill—with sun above, Hoe, Hook—in hasp, Hose—end, with water, Hourglass—with running sand, Hydrant, Ladder, Machine—scraper (?), Mail Bag, Money—five-cent piece, Mortuary monument (?), Police Billy, Rake—head, Rule, Screw, Shovel, Sun, Telegraph Wires and Pole, Trowel, Volcano, Wheel.

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