The Law of Psychic Phenomena
	Practical Conclusions And Suggestions <  Previous Contents

I HAVE now presented the propositions of my hypothesis, together with a brief outline showing its applicability to the leading psychic phenomena; and it remains only to draw a few practical conclusions which apply to every-day life. The first, and the most obviously important one, relates to the exercise of subjective power, and the normal relations of the objective and subjective faculties. In order to do so clearly and concisely, it will be necessary to recall the terms of the hypothesis.

The first proposition is that the mind of man is dual in character. This proposition, as we have already stated, has been more or less dimly recognized by many philosophers in all ages; and during the present century it has been gradually assuming a more definite status in mental philosophy. Assuming, therefore, this proposition to be true, it necessarily follows that the two minds must, normally, bear a harmonious relation to each other. It follows that one of the two minds must, normally, be subordinated to the other. Otherwise there would be a conflict. Just here Liébault's discovery of the law of suggestion comes in, and shows that the subjective mind is constantly controlled by that power.

It is true that Liébault and his followers have applied the law only to the elucidation of hypnotic phenomena; and in that have not always carried it to its legitimate conclusion. But it has seemed to me that if the law is applicable to one class of psychic phenomena, it must be equally applicable to all, as nature's laws admit of no exceptions. I have therefore declared, as the second proposition of my hypothesis, that the subjective mind is always controllable by suggestion.

Assuming, therefore, that these two propositions are true, it follows as a necessary consequence that there must be some distinctive line of difference between the methods of operation of the two minds. It is obvious that there is a limitation of power in the subjective mind, otherwise it could not be subordinated to the objective. Just where this line of distinction could be drawn, and how it could be formulated, was at first a perplexing question. There were no authorities on the subject who ever hinted at a possible limitation of reasoning power in either branch of the dual mind. On the contrary, those who have observed the phenomena of subjective mental activity, as seen in hypnotic subjects, in trance-speakers, and cognate exhibitions, have been so profoundly impressed with its transcendent powers that it has seemed impossible that it could be hedged about by limitations.

Philosophers from time immemorial have recognized its tremendous powers of memory, and millions have sat entranced by the eloquence of subjective speakers, and noted with profound admiration their accuracy of logical deduction. So impressed has the world been by such exhibitions that the soul has been held up as the infallible guide to all that is pure and noble and good in humanity. It has been called the Ego (which it truly is), and as such it has been recognized as the inward monitor, whose monitions are always entitled to reverential consideration. It was difficult, therefore, to imagine any line of distinction between the two branches of the dual mind which would place the subjective in a subordinate position. But for the discovery of Liébault's law of suggestion that line would never have been recognized. It now becomes evident, however, that the point of its limitation of reasoning power is the starting-point. It has not the power to formulate its own premises. The subsidiary proposition of our general hypothesis is, therefore, that the subjective mind is incapable of inductive reasoning. It will readily be seen that it is a corollary of the law of suggestion; but the three propositions together furnish the key to the whole science of psychology.

I am aware that those who have hitherto regarded the soul as possessing all the intellectual powers, as well as all the moral attributes, will be shocked when they realize that the object of their admiration is hedged about with any limitations whatever. The first question they will ask is, "Why is it that God has given to man a soul possessing such transcendent powers in certain directions, and yet under the absolute control, in all its ideas and intellectual functions, of a finite, perishable intelligence?"

The broad and comprehensive answer is, to constitute man a free moral agent. It needs no argument to show that if the soul were not so limited in its initiative power of reasoning, the finite, mortal man could not be held responsible for the moral status of his soul. God gave to objective man the powers of reason, inductive as well as deductive, for the purpose of enabling him successfully to struggle with his physical environment. He gave him the power to know the right from the wrong. He gave him supreme control of the initial processes of reasoning, and thus made him responsible for the moral status of his soul. The soul, in the mean time, so long as it inhabits the body, is charged with limited responsibilities.

It is the life-principle of the body, and its normal functions pertain solely to the preservation of human life and the perpetuation of the human race. It possesses wonderful powers in other directions, under certain abnormal conditions of the body, it is true. But their exercise outside of those limits is always abnormal, and productive of untoward results. Those powers of which we catch occasional glimpses, and which so excite our admiration, are powers which pertain to its existence in a future world.

They are powers which proclaim it as a part of God, as partaking of the nature and attributes of the Divine Mind. Its powers of perception of the fixed laws of nature demonstrate its kinship to Omniscience. It is independent of the feeble powers of inductive reasoning when it is freed from its earthly trammels; and there is not one power or attribute peculiar to the finite, objective mind that could be of any service to the soul in its eternal home. We boast of our powers of inductive reason, forgetting how little we have learned, or ever can know, compared with what there is to learn. We forget that they are the outgrowth of our physical wants and necessities, and simply enable us to grope in the dark for the means of subsistence, and to render our physical existence tolerable.

The powers of the objective mind, compared with those of the subjective mind, may be likened to a man born in a cave, in which the light of the sun never entered, and supplied only with a rushlight with which to grope his way and find the means of subsistence. The light, feeble as it is, is invaluable to him; for by its means he is enabled gradually to learn his bearings, to take note of his environment, to make occasional discoveries of the necessities of life, and finally to achieve some of the comforts of existence. The more he discovers, the more he appreciates the value of his rushlight and the more he boasts of its transcendent powers of illumination. He hears vague reports of an outside world where the comforts and luxuries of life are comparatively easy to obtain, and he resolves to grope his way out.

He is told that the outside world is lighted by a great luminary which will render his rushlight of no value to him except as a reminder of the limitations of his cave-life. But he is skeptical, and points with pride to his accumulations and the discoveries he has made with the aid of his "God-given illuminant," and refuses to believe that there is a possible state of existence which would be tolerable without rushlights. At length a cataclysm of nature throws him upon the outside world in the full blaze of the light of a midday sun. He then finds that he is in a world of light; that he can perceive things as they are, and observe their bearings and relations to each other, and he finds that the rays of his rushlight are no longer visible.

It is obvious that this is but a feeble illustration of the difference between the powers of inductive inquiry into the laws of nature, and the powers of perception possessed by the subjective entity. When the soul is freed from its physical trammels it ascends to its native realm of truth, and, untrammelled by false suggestions arising from the imperfect knowledge of the objective mind, it "sees God as He is;" that is, it apprehends all His laws, and imbibes truth from its Eternal Source.

It must not be forgotten in this connection that the subjective mind is the soul, or spirit, and is itself an organized entity, possessing independent powers and functions; while the objective mind is merely the function of the physical brain, and possesses no powers whatever independently of the physical organization. The one possesses dynamic force independently of the body; the other does not. The one is capable of sustaining an existence independently of the body; the other dies with it. It is just here that the ancient philosophers made their greatest error; and that error has been transmitted down through all the ages.

They recognized the dual character of the mind, but saw no fundamental difference in the functions of the two minds. It never occurred to them that there was, or could be, any limitation of power in either that was not common to both. They recognized man as a trinity, the three elements of which are " body, soul, and spirit." The soul, in their system of philosophy, corresponds to the objective mind, and the spirit to the subjective mind. They considered only the functions of the two minds as minds, and constantly regarded the two as possessing only coordinate powers. Or, if they regarded them as entities, they considered that while each was an entity, it was, somehow, inseparably joined to the other in function and destiny. Hence, according to their philosophy, if one survived the death of the body, both must survive it.

This fundamental error shows itself, in various forms, in every system of philosophy, from Plato down; and it will continue to breed confusion and uncertainty in the human mind until the fact is recognized that the subjective mind, or spirit, as Plato designates it, is a distinct entity, possessing independent powers and functions; whereas the objective mind, or the "soul," of the ancient philosopher, is merely the function of the physical brain. This latter proposition is demonstrated by every consideration of its powers, functions, and limitations. Its powers wholly depend upon the physical condition of the brain. They decline as the body weakens. They become deranged and useless as the brain becomes disorganized from physical causes. Its distinctive functions pertain solely to physical existence. It has the power of independent inductive reasoning to compensate for its total want of power to perceive by intuition.

But, as I have already pointed out, inductive reasoning is merely a laborious method of inquiry, and pertains wholly to our physical existence. It would be as useless to the spirit in an existence where all truth is perceived by intuition, as a tallow-dip in the full blaze of a noonday sun. It may be set down as a maxim in spiritual philosophy that there is not one power or function of the objective mind which distinguishes it from those of the subjective entity, that could be of any service to the latter when it is freed from its earthly environment.

The peculiar functions of the physical brain are therefore no more entitled to be considered as an immortal entity, or as any necessary part or function of an immortal entity, than are the physical functions of deglutition or digestion, or the physical power of pedal locomotion.

It is not for man to question the wisdom of God in so ordaining the relations of the soul to the body as to subordinate the eternal to the perishable. But it is man's duty so to exercise his powers of induction as to ascertain those relations; and, having done so according to his best lights, so to order his conduct as to do his whole duty to himself and his Creator. As we find those relations exist, the whole responsibility rests upon the objective man. He is a free moral agent, and has it in his power to train his soul for weal or woe, for this life and for eternity.

It is of the relations which exist between objective and subjective man in this life that I propose to offer a few practical suggestions at this time. I have already shown that the normal functions of the subjective mind are apparently limited to the preservation of human life and the perpetuation of the human race.

These functions are manifested in what are known as instincts. The first is the instinct of self-preservation; the second is the instinct of reproduction; and the third pertains to the preservation of the offspring. In the last may be included the instinctive desire to preserve human life generally. Outside of these limits all phenomenal subjective mental activity appears to be abnormal. I say appears to be abnormal, for the reason that we have no means of judging, except from a consensus of facts. The facts which pertain to the subject can be found in the greatest abundance in spiritistic circles, for the reason that it is there that subjective activity is greatest in modern times. I venture to say that no one of the better class of spiritists will deny the fact that most professional mediums eventually become physical wrecks; many are overtaken by mental derangement, and some by a moral degradation too loathsome to be described.

Few, if any, escape serious physical trouble. This, of itself, is sufficient evidence of abnormality, and should serve as a warning against the too frequent exercise of subjective power. The majority of spiritistic mediums are more or less afflicted with nervous disorders, and many of them are hysterical to the last degree. Most of them complain of extreme nervous exhaustion after a séance, and many require days to recover from the effects of a prolonged exercise of subjective power. It may be said that I mistake the cause for the effect; that is, that it may be only weak and nervous physical organisms that are capable of exercising subjective power. I am aware that the question is not free from difficulty, and that one is liable to fall into error in discussing a subject that is so little understood. The fact remains, nevertheless, that nervous disorders and mediumship are generally associated, and that fact alone is indicative of abnormality.

Whether we are to regard the exercise of subjective power as productive of abnormal physical conditions, or are to suppose that it requires an abnormal physical organism to produce subjective phenomena, matters little. The conclusion must be the same, — that the exercise of subjective power is abnormal, and should be avoided until more is known of the proper conditions of its exercise than has yet been discovered.

There is a further difficulty attending the consideration of this subject which must not be lost sight of, and that is the question how far suggestion may enter as a factor in the case. It is well known that some mesmeric healers fancy that "they take on the conditions of the patient," as they phrase it. That is, they feel the symptoms which afflict the patient. There is no question of the fact that those who enter upon the treatment of a case with that idea firmly fixed in their minds will experience the anticipated sensations, often to a marked degree. But late scientific experiments disclose the fact that such phenomena are always the effect of suggestion. The physical exhaustion which some healers feel after the treatment of a case is also largely due to suggestion. These effects may always be counteracted by a vigorous auto-suggestion; and, moreover, the same means may be effectively employed to produce exactly the opposite effects upon the operator.

That is to say, the mental healer, by whatever method he does his work, may always cause his treatment of a patient to redound to his own benefit, as well as to that of the patient, by the exercise of the power of auto-suggestion. It is therefore impossible to say just how far suggestion enters as a factor in the production of untoward physical results from the exercise of mediumistic power. It is certainly traditional among the fraternity that nervous exhaustion ensues from its exercise, and the results are appalling. How far the effects may be counteracted by intelligent auto-suggestion, remains to be settled by the process of evolution. There is, however, little hope of any change for the better so long as the spiritistic medium believes himself to be under the domination of an extraneous force which is beyond his control, and the effects of which he is powerless to mitigate.

This phase of the subject is, however, of little importance compared with the mental effects produced by the too persistent exercise of the subjective faculties in the production of phenomena. Again we must draw our illustrations from spiritistic circles. It is undeniable that the tendency of mediumship is to unhinge the mind, to destroy the mental balance, and often to produce the worst forms of insanity. And it is noticeable that the more thoroughly sincere the medium is in his belief in the genuineness of his power to evoke the spirits of the dead, the greater is the tendency to insanity. The reason is obvious. If he sincerely believes himself to be under the control of an extraneous power, he yields implicit obedience to that power; especially if it assumes to be a superior mentality, as it generally does. Instead of assuming control of the power, he allows it to control him.

As a matter of course, he is ignorant of the laws pertaining to it. He is ignorant of the fact that the force which controls him resides within himself, and is not a superior being commissioned from Heaven to convey a message from the Source of all knowledge. He is dazed by its wonderful exhibitions of superior intelligence, is captivated by its eloquence, and awed by its assumption of authority. In short, he knows nothing of its source, or the limitations of its powers of reasoning. The result is that he yields implicit obedience to its guidance in all things. His reason has abdicated its throne and abandoned its functions, and he is at the mercy of his subjective mind, which, in turn, is controlled by the false suggestions of his own disorganized and subjugated objective intelligence. His physical degeneracy keeps pace with his mental decline, his whole nervous system is prostrated by excessive exercise of subjective power, and too frequently the end is acute mania or driveling imbecility.

One of the most fascinating and seductive forms of subjective mental activity is exhibited in trance, or inspirational, speaking. A medium of fair intelligence and some education, obtained, perhaps, by desultory reading of spiritistic and miscellaneous literature, develops himself into an inspirational speaker. As a sincere spiritist, he believes himself to be controlled by some great spirit who in life was celebrated for his eloquence. He ascends the rostrum and amazes his audience by his wonderful oratory, his marvelous command of the resources of his mind, and, above all, by the clearness and cogency of his reasoning. Those who have known him before and are aware of the limits of his education are the most surprised of all, and no argument can convince them that he is not inspired by some almost superhuman intelligence from another world.

They know nothing of the wonders of subjective mental power; they have no knowledge of the perfection of subjective memory, which gives the speaker perfect command of all he has ever read, or of the logical exactitude of the deductive reasoning of the subjective intelligence. The speaker, on his part, finds himself in possession of such wonderful powers and resources, emanating, as he believes, from an extraneous source, abandons his old pursuits, and devotes himself to the work of his inspiration. It is an easy and pleasurable existence for the time being. He finds that there is no need of taking thought of what he is to say, for ideas, and words with which to clothe them, flow from him like a mountain torrent. He finds himself in possession of knowledge which he has no objective recollection of ever having acquired, and of ideas which were foreign to his objective intelligence. He believes, and, from his standpoint, has every reason to believe, that he is inspired by some lofty spirit whose knowledge is unlimited and whose resources are unfailing.

He feels that he has no need of further reading or study, and the work of objective intellectual labor soon becomes a drudgery. The result is that his objective intellectual growth soon comes to a stand-still, and at length his objective intellect begins to deteriorate. In the mean time his subjective powers may continue to grow in brilliancy for a time, or at least they shine with a new luster, as they are compared with the deepening dullness of his objective intellect. At length he becomes fitful, erratic, eccentric. As his objective powers deteriorate, they no longer have any semblance of control over his subjective mind. The suggestions which reason, in its best estate, may have given to his subjective mind, as a starting-point for his discourses, are no longer available, for his power to reason is failing. His friends, who follow him from place to place, begin to notice that he talks one thing at one place, and the opposite at another. They attribute the fact to the control of different spirits at different times, and for a time they are consoled. Eventually the fact is forced upon them that in his normal, or objective, condition he is growing more and more erratic, and that at times his conversation is the merest drivel. As in all the other forms of subjective development mentioned, his physical deterioration keeps pace with his mental decline. In the mean time his subjective powers appear to deteriorate.

It is not true, in fact, that his subject mind, per se, deteriorates, for that is impossible. But as it is always controlled by suggestion, it necessarily takes its cue from the suggestions conveyed to it by the objective mind. When that ceases to develop, the subjective mind keeps on in its old rut, for the obvious reason that no new ideas are imparted to it. When the objective mind begins to deteriorate, its suggestions are no longer coherent, and the subjective mind is necessarily incoherent in exact proportion. Its deductions from a false or imbecile suggestion will be logically correct; but, as a matter of course, a false, extravagant, or imbecile premise, followed to its legitimate, logical conclusion, necessarily leads the mind into a corresponding maze of extravagance and imbecility.

It is therefore no indication of a decline of subjective powers, but it is a demonstration of the universality of the law of suggestion. It goes without saying that if an inspirational speaker were aware of the source of his power, and of the laws which govern it, and would constantly keep it under the control of his reason, he could utilize it to the very best advantage. A cultured man of well-balanced intellect would then formulate his own premises according to the best lights obtainable through the processes of inductive reasoning, and "inspiration would do the rest."

If his premises were correct, the subjective mind could always be depended upon to deduce the correct conclusions, and to illustrate them by drawing upon the resources of its perfect memory of all that the individual has ever seen, heard, or read bearing upon the subject. Such a man would be known as a man of "genius," in whatever direction he exercised his powers. And just in proportion to the natural powers and cultivation of his objective mind and the extent of his objective information would his subjective manifestations be brilliant and powerful.

I do not say that such an exercise of subjective power would not be abnormal and productive of untoward physical consequences. Men of genius in all ages of the world have unconsciously exercised this power. But men of genius the world over have been too often noted for abnormalities of character and conduct. Profane history furnishes but one example where a man of genius appears to have been in possession of objective and subjective powers perfectly balanced, and who was able to utilize his enormous objective advantages, resulting from constant and intimate association with the greatest minds of his generation, in the subjective production of works which must always stand pre-eminent.

It is unnecessary to say that I allude to Shakespeare. So little is known of his private life that it is impossible to judge whether abnormal physical effects resulted from his labors. But his works are full of internal evidence that his subjective powers were under the constant control of a well-trained and perfectly balanced objective intellect.

It is of course impossible to say just how far subjective power might, normally, be employed in the direction indicated, in the absolute dearth of examples where it has been employed with a full knowledge of the laws which govern it. But certain it is that so long as it is exercised under the delusion that it is an extraneous and superior power, over which the objective man possesses no control, just so long will the victim of the delusion be subject to the caprice of an irresponsible power, which will eventually drive him to the horrors of insanity or leave him in the darkness of imbecility.

Of greater importance than either the physical or mental deterioration of the one who habitually exercises subjective power in the production of phenomena, is the moral aspect of the question. One may escape serious physical consequences of mediumship, or he may succeed in maintaining a sufficient outward semblance of mental equilibrium to keep out of the insane asylum; but no well-informed spiritist of the better class will attempt to deny or weaken the force of the statement that a mephitic moral atmosphere surrounds the average spiritistic medium. I do not assert by any means that all mediums are immoral. On the contrary, there are many noble men and pure women who habitually exercise mediuimistic power.

Otherwise, the tendency to looseness of morals which characterizes so many of them would be difficult to account for on other than physiological grounds. Books have been written to account for this tendency, on the hypothesis that immortality is a consequence of the nervous derangement which follows the practice of mediumship. This hypothesis necessarily presupposes the invariable connection of immorality with a nervous disorder, and the latter with mediumship. The common experience of mankind may be invoked to prove that there is no invariable connection of the kind existing. Another cause must therefore be sought for the too-frequent association of immorality with mediumship.

Those who have followed me in my brief analysis of the causes which conspire to bring about the mental deterioration of the spiritistic medium will anticipate me in what I have to say concerning the causes of the moral degradation of the same class. The medium, if he is sincere in his professions of belief in the alleged communication of spirits of the dead through him, believes himself to be under the care and control of a higher and purer mentality than his own. He believes in its lofty assumptions of mental and moral superiority, and he becomes accustomed to ask its advice in all things pertaining to his personal well-being.

He frequently finds its advice to be of the best, and he gradually accustoms himself to submit to its guidance in all things. He assumes and believes that in the clearer light of the world of spirits many of the artificialities of mundane civilization are held in pitying contempt, and he frequently comes to believe that many of the restraints of human society are purely artificial, and have no foundation in true morality or religion. He generally regards himself as a reformer, having broken away from the orthodox creed, and becomes the advocate of a new religion. Like most radical reformers who find the world all wrong in one respect, he immediately assumes that it is wrong in everything; and nothing will satisfy his ambition short of destroying the whole fabric of civilized society, and instituting a new order of things more suited to his ideas of human progress and felicity. It all too frequently happens that one of the first "artificial" institutions of society which becomes the object of private attack by the spiritual medium is the marriage relation. He sees much domestic infelicity surrounding him, and is perhaps tired of the restraints which it imposes upon himself, and he consults his spirit guide as to the propriety of setting at defiance the laws of human society in that regard.

Now, if his "spirit guide" were what he believed it to be, or what it assumed to be, — a pure and lofty spirit, disenthralled from the temptations and weaknesses of the flesh, and drawing inspiration from the society of just men made perfect, — there could be no doubt of the character of the advice it would give him. But, being the medium's own subjective entity, bound by the laws of its being to control by the power of suggestion, it necessarily follows the line of thought which is uppermost in the medium's objective mind, and it gives the advice most desired. Moreover, from the premises suggested by the unhallowed lusts of the medium, it will frame an argument so plausible and convincing to his willing mind that he will fancy that, in following the advice of his "control," he is obeying the holiest impulses implanted in his nature by a God of love.

I do not charge spiritists as a class with being advocates of the doctrines of free love. On the contrary, I am aware that, as a class, they hold the marriage relation in sacred regard. I cannot forget, however, that but a few years ago some of their leading advocates and mediums proclaimed the doctrine of free love in all its hideous deformity from every platform in the land. Nor do I fail to remember that the better class of spiritists everywhere repudiated the doctrine and denounced its advocates and exemplars.

Nevertheless, the moral virus took effect here and there all over the country, and it is doing its deadly work in secret in many an otherwise happy home. And I charge a large and constantly growing class of professional mediums with being the leading propagandists of the doctrine of free love. They infest every community in the land, and it is well known to all men and women who are dissatisfied or unhappy in their marriage relations that they can always find sympathy by consulting the average medium, and can, moreover, find justification for illicit love by invoking the spirits of the dead through such mediums.

As before remarked, I do not charge mediums as a class with immoral practices, nor do I say that the exercise of subjective power, per se, has a tendency to induce immoral practices. What I do say is, that through a want of knowledge of the laws which pertain to subjective mental activity, the one who exercises that power in the form of mediumship is in constant danger of being led astray. He invokes a power that he knows nothing of, — a power which may, at any time, turn and rend him.

The man or woman whose heart is pure, in whom the principles of virtue and morality are innate, is in no danger of being corrupted by the exercise of mediumistic power. The auto-suggestions of such are constantly on the side of virtue, and a corrupt communication could not emanate from such a source. But to the young, whose characters are not formed, and to those whose notions of morality are loose, the dangers of mediumship are appalling.

I have felt obliged to draw my illustrations from spirit mediums for the reason that mediumship is the form which subjective activity takes in the Western world. Other forms, however, are being introduced from the Orient, and may soon become common in this country. The Western world is threatened with a revival of the arts of the magician, the conjurer, and the wizard. It may be true, and doubtless is, that the Eastern adepts know more of the practice of subjective arts than is dreamed of by spiritists. The fact that they denounce as dangerous to health, morals, and sanity the practice of mediumship, is a hopeful sign. That they are aware that the power which controls the medium emanates from himself, is demonstrative of their advancement in practical knowledge of the subject.

But that they are reliable guides to the safe exercise of subjective power has not been demonstrated. It is certain that they are yet ignorant of the fundamental principles which underlie the science of the soul, for they have yet to learn the law of suggestion, and to appreciate the subtle role which that power plays in every psychic phenomenon. Their whole system of spiritual philosophy has been built up in ignorance of that law, and hence they are necessarily subject to the same delusions, arising from the same sources of error, that have misguided all mankind, in all the ages of the world, prior to the discovery of that law. They believe in their power to communicate with the spirits of another world, precisely the same as do the modern spiritists. The foundation of their belief is the same; namely, psychic phenomena produced by themselves, in ignorance of the fundamental laws which govern it. The only difference resides in the fact that the Orientalists have the power to produce a greater variety of startling phenomena, and hence are in possession of greater facilities for deceiving themselves.

No advantage, therefore, can be gained by studying their philosophy or practicing their arts, except as a means of gaining general information or for purposes of scientific experiment; and the warning against indulging in the indiscriminate practice of mediumship holds good against the too frequent exercise of subjective power in any direction, or for any purpose save that of scientific investigation or healing the sick.

It should be remembered always that the power of the subjective entity is the most potential force in nature, and when intelligently directed the most beneficent. But, like every other power in nature misdirected, its destructive force is equally potent.

In conclusion, I desire again to impress upon the reader the absolute necessity of always holding the subjective entity under the positive domination of objective reason; and I here repeat, what I have again and again sought to enforce, that insanity consists in the usurpation by the subjective mind of the throne of reason. The terrible potentialities of the subjective entity are as much to be feared as admired, and no faculty that it possesses is more to be dreaded and guarded against than its awful power and inexorable exactitude of logical deduction, when reasoning from premises that have not been demonstrated by the processes of induction.