sense) a national migration; still, if the flower of the youth departed, the old country was left very defenceless: and at what time Slavonians entered Bohemia and other parts there was no historian to record. To argue from the silence of history against such a change of population, of which no Italian could easily be informed, and in an age when Italian literature itself was all but vanishing,-is not the smallest of Dr. Latham's weak

nesses.

Germany emptied itself southward, and thereby opened itself to Slavonian, to Hunnite, to Magyar invasions. That land of many centres has never yet been duly poised into one stable confederation. When this end is achieved, Europe may at length attain a permanent equilibrium.

ART. VI.-THE LITERATURE OF SPIRIT-RAPPING.

The Spiritual Herald. London, 1856.

The Yorkshire Spiritual Telegraph. 1855-6.

Apparitions: a New Theory. By Newton Crosland. London, 1856. Epic of the Starry Heaven. By Thomas L. Harris. New York, 1856.

Lyric of the Golden Age. By Thomas L. Harris. New York, 1856.

WHATEVER We may think of what is called, however improperly, Spiritualism, we cannot deny that it possesses a literature. We may be unscientific, and inclined to think the whole subject a grotesque absurdity; or we may be scientific, and disposed to account for the phenomena by some theory of mental delusion or physical force: but whatever we think of it, the fact remains, that a considerable number of persons not only believe in tablerapping, table-tipping, spectral hands, flying musical instruments, conversations held with, and revelations given by, spirits; but they solemnly record their belief, collect and print remarkable instances of such manifestations, and have reduced "spiritualism" into a certain curious order and system. In England, this literature cannot be said to flourish; it exists, but in a very poor and precarious way, the number of believers being too small to defray the expense of elaborate or frequent publications. But in America the Spiritualists boast that they number nearly three millions. They have a voluminous current literature of Spiritualism. They there, too, possess what we should call a minor

poet, but what they call a "medium giving the utterances of medieval poets." At any rate, they have a person who, either naturally or supernaturally, produces every year a poem about the size of Paradise Lost. Let us reject the three millions as a palpable exaggeration; but even if we divide the number by ten, there is something worth our passing attention in the mere fact, that three hundred thousand persons of English speech and blood should reject the obvious explanation that this writer is a weak, fluent versifier, with second-rate powers of imitation; and should accept as a truer account, that his verses contain the thoughts, and are shaped in the language, of great deceased poets, who do not so much inspire him as use him as their mouthpicce.

We do not wish to attempt any solution of the problem which "spiritualism" offers. We have no theory, suggestions, or interpretations to propose. It is only in their literary aspect that we regard the publications of which a list is given at the head of our article; and which, though only a very small fraction of the whole literature, are yet, we think, sufficient to represent it. When first any belief, superstition, or general movement of the human mind is described in writing, the documents are of too vague, fragmentary, and partial a character to afford material for an estimate of that which they seek to represent. But a time comes when we find that the facts, however often repeated, are substantially the same; and the theory, or belief, which binds these facts together assumes a rounded and definite form. Spiritualism has arrived at this point: we can gather what the facts are said to be; we can make out what Spiritualists think is the true inference those facts suggest. So far the literature of Spiritualism will carry us. When we have attained this result, we may make what use of it we please. We may ascribe it to collusion or delusion, to electricity, or to what is termed the "od force;" we may laugh over it or weep over it. But the first thing is to obtain the result; and to accomplish this, although necessarily in a brief and imperfect manner, will be our endeavour in the following pages.

"Spiritualism" purports to be the communication of living men with spirits, and, almost invariably, with the spirits of deceased men. We have, therefore, first to ask what are the modes of communication; and secondly, what kind of things are communicated. The modes of communication ascend in importance through a regular series-the lowest being table-tipping, and the highest the trance of a medium; and the inferiority on any particular occasion being attributed sometimes to a want of practice in the man, sometimes to a certain impotency in the spirit. So, too, there are very marked differences in the nature

of the communication given. What is the lowest it would be invidious to decide; although, if called upon to pronounce, we should perhaps venture to select a certain hymn, stated to be the joint effort of David, Nehemiah, and Daniel, as presenting the greatest contrast we have met with between the earthly wisdom and the heavenly imbecility of its authors. But clearly there can be no higher utterances than the poems of Mr. Harris, the prolific American to whom we have referred above. For they are stated in a preface written by one of the leading Spiritualists of America to be a splendid triumph of the Ideal, an earthly echo of the infinite harmony, and sublime spheremusic: and we should suppose that no praise from a Spiritualist could be higher than this.

The most elementary modes of communication are those in which the spirits do nothing more than announce their presence by interfering with some of the laws that ordinarily fetter inanimate nature. To this class belong the most common and the most notorious of all the "spiritual" phenomena, that of tableturning or tipping. Every one knows how a circle is formed, and how a table is made to spin round. But this seems to be considered in spiritual circles as too infantile a manifestation for any of the initiated to trouble themselves with. They do not begin lower than with a table being hoisted, more or less completely, into the air; nor do they think much of this. "I have known,' says Judge Edmonds, an American believer, "a pine table, with four legs, lifted bodily up from the floor, in the centre of a circle of six or eight persons, turned upside down and laid upon its top at our feet, then lifted up over our heads, and put leaning against the back of the sofa on which we sat. . . . . Î have seen a mahogany table, having only a centre leg, and with a lamp burning on it, lifted from the floor at least a foot, in spite of the efforts of those present, and shaken backwards and forwards as one would shake a goblet in his hand, and the lamp retain its place." Professor Faraday, as is well known, constructed an instrument to show that all the table-moving was the result of muscular action. A spiritualist, in order to refute this, tried several experiments, which he described in a paper inserted in the Spiritual Herald; and one of his experiments and its results was as follows:

"After Faraday's letter was published, being resolved to test the matter still further, we placed ourselves as before, and charged the table. In two miuutes, in obedience to my will, the leg of the table rose, as on the previous occasion, full four or five inches. I immediately pulled off my shoes and stockings, as preconcerted, and jumped upon the corner of the table, which, of course, resumed its normal position, all four legs remaining firm upon the floor as usual. My

father and mother then continued to charge the table; and in three minutes the leg of the table, at the corner where I stood, rose, carrying me up into the air. My father then took off his slippers and stockings; and standing also upon the table with his arm round my waist, left my mother alone to operate, who placed her hands on the table, quite at the corner. In three minutes the table rose as before, carrying both my father and myself upwards, and my father only kept his footing by holding on to the ceiling. Our united weights could not be less than one hundred and fifty to two hundred pounds, exclusive of the table."

The next step in the scale of communication is, that the table should move without any pressure or touch whatsoever. A story of such a manifestation is told by Dr. Hare, an American professor. He says that, "at a request," the table commenced its motion with moderate speed, occasionally halting, and then gliding on a foot or two at once. On reaching folding-doors dividing off two parlours, it rose over an iron-rod, projecting half or threequarters of an inch above the level of the carpet. It then entered the other parlour, and went its whole length until it came near the pier-glass at the end. At request (probably of the owner of the pier-glass), the motion was then reversed, and it returned until it again reached the iron-rod. Here it stuck. The table hove, creaked, and struggled; but all in vain. The medium was then impressed by the spirits to write, that if the fore-legs were lifted over the bar, they (the spirits) thought they could push the back-legs over. This was done, and the motion kept on. This seems to us one of the most curious stories in the whole literature of Spiritualism. The table going off rather stiffly at starting, but taking its rod with a gallant bound the first time; its lucky pause just short of the pier-glass; its return in the same course; the spirits' feeling rather faint, but anxious to do their utmost, and desirous to come back and finish handsomely, if they could but get the fore-legs lifted; and the mere notion of a spirit being too "done" to jump quite by itself, -make a whole calculated to try rather severely the faith of a beginner.

Analogous to such a manifestation is that of a table which goes through a pantomime of emotion. We find an anecdote of a sceptical German philosopher, who was brought by a friend to take part in a spiritual circle. At last the table paid particular attention to the philosopher, and it appeared that it was the spirit of that gentleman's father who was then moving the table. "Various questions were put, and answered. One was, 'Were you angry, my father, that I left home as I did? No response. How is this?' said he to me (it is the spiritualist that tells the tale). I said that perhaps his father was trying to remember what

anger was.

The table, after a few moments, moved up closely to him and pressed him. 'What is the meaning of this?' I suggested that it might represent an embrace, and the table moved in the affirmative. It is very extraordinary. Here is not only intelligence, but feeling. I am convinced.' Such," says the triumphant narrator, "was the exclamation of my philosopher." What a model of a philosopher he must have been, and how eminently fit to be converted!

It seems, in fact, one of the recognised parts of the programme of a spiritual evening to have a sceptic introduced; who is allowed to wonder and examine for the first hour or two, but who is then overpowered with conviction, and becomes the lion of the night. The Spiritualists assert that they have been so successful in America as to have instilled a belief in a future life into no less than twenty-five thousand infidels. Generally there is some one particular occurrence offered more especially as a demonstration" to the sceptic of the evening, upon which his conversion follows immediately. The history of these "tests," or "demonstrations," abounds throughout the spiritualist literature. We can only find room for one example, which we select partly because the story can stand by itself, and partly because there seems to us something unusually comic in the reality of a future life being brought indisputably home by seeing the gyrations of a fat lady. The story is told in the words of Dr. W. Geib:

"The following dialogue then occurred: Will the spirits be so obliging as to make a physical demonstration?' Answered by three raps on the table, which were responded to by an affirmative expression from the whole circle. My seat was at the side of the medium, a married lady of considerably more than ordinary weight. Ques. 'Will the spirits move Mrs. D. in her chair?' Ans. 'Yes.' As this demonstration was intended for my special benefit, and our invisible friends were fully committed for its performance, my attention was riveted on the lady who was to be the subject of it. Madam, will you please put your feet on the spar of the chair?' This being fully accomplished, and your hands in your lap' was added. As her hands dropped, the lady left my side, passed about two feet backward, and immediately returned to her former position at the table."

Tables are not by any means the only inanimate objects that are moved. We hear of "the empty chairs about a room commencing a general frolic, advancing and retreating, upsetting and exhibiting a variety of pranks." We further learn that on the same occasion when the chairs were thus impelled, a mat by the door was suddenly rolled up at one end without human agency. A hat was thrown from the table when no person was near. The table-cloth and all its contents were drawn off and thrown upon the floor. Still more astonishing is the history of