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{{Style P-HPB SB. Title continued |Zschokke and Deschamps Spiritual Perseption|7-162}} | {{Style P-HPB SB. Title continued |Zschokke and Deschamps Spiritual Perseption|7-162}} | ||
... | {{Style P-No indent|On an excursion I once made with two of my sons, I met with an old Tyrolese, who carried oranges and lemons about the country, in a house of public entertainment, in Lower Hanenstein, one of the passes of the Jura. He fixed his eyes on me for some time, then mingled in the conversation, and said that he knew me, although he knew me not, and went to relate what I had done and striven to do in former time, to the consternation of the country people present, and the great admiration of my children, who were diverted to find another person gifted like their father. How the old lemon merchant came by his knowledge, he could not explain either to me or to himself; he seemed, nevertheless, to value himself somewhat upon his mysterious wisdom.”}} | ||
Emile Deschamps communicates to ''Le Monde Musical, ''of Brussels (1868), the following account of his own experience in psychometry: “If a man believed only what he could comprehend, he would believe neither in God, in himself, in the stars which roll above his head, nor in the herbage which is crushed beneath his feet. . . . | |||
“In the month of February, 1846, I travelled in France. I arrived in a rich and great city, and I took a walk in front of the beautiful shops which abound in it. The rain began to fall; I entered an elegant gallery. All at once I stood motionless; I could not withdraw my eyes from the figure of a lovely young woman, who was all alone behind an array of articles of ornament for sale. This young woman was very handsome; but it was not at all her beauty which enchained me. I know not what mysterious interest, what inexplicable bond held and mastered my whole being. It was a sympathy subtle and profound, free from any sensual alloy, but of irresistible force, as the unknown is in all things. I was pushed forward into the shop by a supernatural power. I purchased several little things, and, as I paid for them, said, ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Sara.’ The young girl looked at me with an air of surprise. 4 It astonishes you,’ I continued, ‘that a stranger knows your name, and one of your baptismal names; but, if you will think for a moment of all your names, I will repeat them all to you. Do you think of them?’ ‘Yes, Monsieur,’ she replied, half smiling, and half trembling. ‘Very well,’ I added, looking fixedly in her face, ‘you are called Sara Adele Benjamine N—.’ ‘It is true,’ she replied; and after some minutes of surprise she began all at once to laugh; and I saw that she thought that I had obtained this information in the neighbourhood, in order to amuse myself with it. But I knew very well that I had not till this moment known a word of it, and I was terrified at my own instantaneous divination. | |||
“The next and the next day I hastened to the handsome shop; my divination was renewed at every instant. I begged of Sara to think of something without letting me know what it was; and, immediately, I read on her countenance her thought not yet expressed. I requested her to write with a pencil some words, which she should keep carefully concealed from me; and, after having looked at her for a minute, I, on my part, wrote down the same words in the same order. I had her thoughts as in an open book, but she could not in the slightest degree read mine, such was my superiority; but, at the same time, she imposed on me her ideas and her emotions. Let her think seriously on any subject, or let her repeat in her own mind the words of any writing, and instantly I was aware of the whole. The mystery lay betwixt her brain and mine, not betwixt my faculties of intuition and things material. Whatever it might be, there existed a ''rapport ''between us as intimate as it was pure. | |||
“One night I heard in my ear a loud voice crying to me, ‘Sara is very ill, very ill!’ I hastened to her: a medical man was watching over her and expecting a crisis. That evening Sara had entered her lodgings in a burning fever; she continued in delirium all night. The doctor took me aside, and told me that he feared the worst result. From that apartment I saw the countenance of Sara clearly, and, my intuition rising above my distress, I said, in a low voice, ‘Doctor, do you know with what images her fevered sleep is occupied? She believes that she is at this moment at the grand opera at Paris, where she indeed has never been, and a ''danseuse ''gathers, amongst other buds, some hemlock, and, throwing it to her, cries, ''‘That is for you.’'' | |||
“The physician thought I was delirious too; but some minutes afterwards the patient awoke heavily, and her first words were, ‘Oh! how beautiful is the opera! but why did that handsome girl throw to me that hemlock?’ The doctor was stupefied with astonishment. A medicine containing hemlock was administered, and in some days Sara was well.” | |||
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