The Law of Psychic Phenomena
	Reasoning Powers Of The Two Minds Differentiated <  Previous Contents Next  >

ONE of the most important distinctions between the objective and subjective minds pertains to the function of reason. That there is a radical difference in their powers and methods of reasoning is a fact which has not been noted by any psychologist who has written on the subject. It is, nevertheless, a proposition which will be readily conceded to be essentially true by every observer when his attention is once called to it. The propositions may be briefly stated as follows:

1. The objective mind is capable of reasoning by all methods,— inductive and deductive, analytic and synthetic.

2. The subjective mind is incapable of inductive reasoning.

Let it here be understood that this proposition refers to the powers and functions of the purely subjective mind, as exhibited in the mental operations of persons in a state of profound hypnotism, or trance. The prodigious intellectual feats of persons in that condition have been a source of amazement in all the ages; but the striking peculiarity noted above appears to have been lost sight of in admiration of the other qualities exhibited. In other words, it has never been noted that their reasoning is always deductive, or syllogistic. The subjective mind never classifies a series of known facts, and reasons from them up to general principles; but, given a general principle to start with, it will reason deductively from that down to all legitimate inferences, with a marvelous cogency and power.

Place a man of intelligence and cultivation in the hypnotic state, and give him a premise, say in the form of a statement of a general principle of philosophy, and no matter what may have been his opinions in his normal condition, he will unhesitatingly, in obedience to the power of suggestion, assume the correctness of the proposition; and if given an opportunity to discuss the question, will proceed to deduce therefrom the details of a whole system of philosophy. Every conclusion will be so clearly and logically deducible from the major premise, and withal so plausible and consistent, that the listener will almost forget that the premise was assumed. To illustrate:

The writer once saw Professor Carpenter, of Boston, place a young gentleman in the hypnotic state at a private gathering in the city of Washington. The company was composed of highly cultivated ladies and gentlemen of all shades of religious belief; and the young man himself—who will be designated as C — was a cultured gentleman, possessed a decided taste for philosophical studies, and was a graduate of a leading college. In his normal condition he was liberal in his views on religious subjects, and, though always unprejudiced and open to conviction, was a decided unbeliever in modern spiritism. Knowing his love of the classics and his familiarity with the works of the Greek philosophers, the professor asked him how he should like to have a personal interview with Socrates.

"I should esteem it a great privilege, if Socrates were alive," answered C.

"It is true that Socrates is dead," replied the professor; "but I can invoke his spirit and introduce you to him. There he stands now," exclaimed the professor, pointing towards a corner of the room.

C looked in the direction indicated, and at once arose, with a look of the most reverential awe depicted on his countenance. The professor went through the ceremonial of a formal presentation, and C, almost speechless with embarrassment, bowed with the most profound reverence, and offered the supposed spirit a chair. Upon being assured by the professor that Socrates was willing and anxious to answer any question that might be put to him, C at once began a series of questions, hesitatingly and with evident embarrassment at first; but, gathering courage as he proceeded, he catechized the Greek philosopher for over two hours, interpreting the answers to the professor as he received them. His questions embraced the whole cosmogony of the universe and a wide range of spiritual philosophy.

They were remarkable for their pertinency, and the answers were no less remarkable for their clear-cut and sententious character, and were couched in the most elegant and lofty diction, such as Socrates himself might be supposed to employ. But the most remarkable of all was the wonderful system of spiritual philosophy evolved. It was so clear, so plausible, and so perfectly consistent with itself and the known laws of Nature that the company sat spell-bound through it all, each one almost persuaded, for the time being, that he was listening to a voice from the other world. Indeed, so profound was the impression that some of them — not spiritists, but members of the Christian Church — then and there announced their conviction that C was actually conversing either with the spirit of Socrates or with some equally high intelligence.

At subsequent gatherings other pretended spirits were called up, among them some of the more modern philosophers, and one or two who could not be dignified with that title. When a modern spirit was invoked, the whole manner of C changed. He was more at his ease, and the conversation on both sides assumed a purely nineteenth-century tone. But the philosophy was the same; there was never a lapse or an inconsistency. With the introduction of every new spirit there was a decided change of diction and character and general style of conversation, and each one was always the same, whenever reintroduced. If the persons themselves had been present, their distinctive peculiarities could not have been more marked; but if all that was said could have been printed in a book verbatim, it would have formed one of the grandest and most coherent systems of spiritual philosophy ever conceived by the brain of man, and its only blemish would have been the frequent change of the style of diction.

It must not be forgotten that C was not a spiritist, and that the whole bent of his mind inclined to materialism. He frequently expressed the most profound astonishment at the replies he received. This was held to be an evidence that the replies were not evolved from his own inner consciousness. Indeed, it was strenuously urged by some of the company present that he must have been talking with an independent intelligence, else his answers would have coincided with his own belief while in his normal condition. The conclusive answer to that proposition is this: He was in the subjective state. He had been told that he was talking face to face with a disembodied spirit of superior intelligence.

He believed the statement implicitly, in obedience to the law of suggestion. He saw, or thought he saw, a disembodied spirit. The inference, for him, was irresistible that this was a demonstration of the truth of spiritism; that being assumed, the rest followed as a natural inference. He was, then, simply reasoning deductively from an assumed major premise, thrust upon him, as it were, by the irresistible force of a positive suggestion. His reasoning was perfect of its kind, there was not a flaw in it; but it was purely syllogistic, from general principles to particular facts.

It will doubtless be said that this does not prove that he was not in actual converse with a spirit. True; and if the conversation had been confined to purely philosophical subjects, its exalted character would have furnished plausible grounds for a belief that he was actually in communion with the inhabitants of a world where pure intelligence reigns supreme. But test questions were put to one of the supposed spirits, with a view of determining this point. One of them was asked where he died. His reply was, "In a little town near Boston." The fact is that he had lived in a little town near Boston, and the somnambulist knew it. But he died in a foreign land,—a fact which the somnambulist did not know. C was subsequently, when in his normal condition, informed of the failure of this test question, and was told at the same time what the facts were concerning the circumstances of the death of the gentleman whose spirit was invoked. He was amused at the failure, as well as at the credulity of those who had believed that he had been in conversation with spirits; but at a subsequent sitting he was again informed that the same spirit was present, and he at once manifested the most profound indignation because of the deception which had been practiced upon him by the said spirit, and demanded an explanation of the falsehood which he had told concerning the place of his death.

Then was exhibited one of the most curious phases of subjective intelligence. The spirit launched out into a philosophical disquisition on the subject of spirit communion, and defined the limitations of spiritual intercourse with the inhabitants of this earth in such a philosophical and plausible manner that not only was the young man mollified, but the spiritists present felt that they had scored a triumph, and had at last heard an authoritative explanation of the fact that spirits are limited in their knowledge of their own antecedents by that of the medium through whom they communicate.

For the benefit of those who will say that there is, after all, no proof that C was not in actual communication with a superior intelligence, it must be stated that at a subsequent seance he was introduced to a very learned and very philosophical pig, who spoke all the modern languages with which C was acquainted, and appeared to know as much about spiritual philosophy as did the ancient Greek. C had been told that the pig was a reincarnation of a Hindu priest whose "karma" had been a little off color, but who retained a perfect recollection of his former incarnation, and had not forgotten his learning. It is perhaps unnecessary to say that the pig was able to, and did, give a very learned and eminently satisfactory exposition of the doctrine of reincarnation and of Hindu philosophy in general. As C was then fresh from his reading of some modern theosophical works, he was apparently much gratified to find that they were in substantial accord with the views of the pig.

The inference to be drawn from these facts is obvious and irresistible: the subjective mind of the young man accepted the suggestion of the operator as an absolute verity. The deductions from the premises thus given were evolved from his own inner consciousness. But that he believed them to have been imparted to him by a spirit, is as certain as that he believed that he saw a spirit.

It must not be understood from the statement of the general proposition regarding the subjective processes of reasoning that persons in the subjective state necessarily go through the forms of syllogistic reasoning. On the contrary, they seldom, if ever, employ the forms of the syllogism, and it is rare that their discourses are argumentative. They are generally, in fact, dogmatic to the last degree. It never seems to occur to them that what they state to be a fact can possibly be, in the slightest degree, doubtful. A doubt, expressed or implied, of their perfect integrity, of the correctness of their statements, or of the genuineness of the phenomena which is being exhibited through them, invariably results in confusion and distress of mind.

Hence they are incapable of controversial argument, — a fact which constitutes another important distinction between the objective and subjective minds. To traverse openly the statements of a person in the subjective state, is certain to restore him to the normal condition, often with a severe nervous shock. The explanation of these facts is easy to find in the constant amenability of the subjective mind to the power of suggestion. They are speaking or acting from the standpoint of one suggestion, and to controvert it is to offer a counter suggestion which is equally potent with the first. The result is, and must necessarily be, utter confusion of mind and nervous excitement on the part of the subject. These facts have an important bearing upon many psychological phenomena, and will be adverted to more at length in future chapters, my present purpose being merely to impress upon the reader's mind the general principles governing subjective mental phenomena.

It will be seen from the foregoing that when it is stated that the subjective mind reasons deductively, the results of its reasoning processes are referred to rather than its forms. That is to say, whilst it may not employ the forms of the syllogism, its conclusions are syllogistically correct, — are logically deducible from the premises imparted to it by suggestion. This peculiarity seems to arise from, or to be the necessary result of the persistency with which the subjective mind will follow every idea suggested. It is well known to hypnotists that when an idea is suggested to a subject, no matter of how trivial a character, he will persist in following that idea to its ultimate conclusion, or until the operator releases him from the impression.

For instance, if a hypnotist suggests to one of his subjects that his back itches, to another that his nose bleeds, to another that he is a marble statue, to another that he is an animal, etc., each one will follow out the line of his particular impression, regardless of the presence of others, and totally oblivious to all his surroundings which do not pertain to his idea; and he will persist in doing so until the impression is removed by the same power by which it was created. The same principle prevails when a thought is suggested and the subject is invited to deliver a discourse thereon. He will accept the suggestion as his major premise; and whatever there is within the range of his own knowledge or experience, whatever he has seen, heard, or read, which confirms or illustrates that idea, he has at his command and effectually uses it, but is apparently totally oblivious to all facts or ideas which do not confirm, and are not in accord with, the one central idea. It is obvious that inductive reasoning, under such conditions, is out of the question.