"My impression in regard to it [mesmerism] was always one of horror, and this sprang less from the thing itself than from the enormous danger to which I saw such as practised it almost always fall a prey.

"The practice of magnetism borders on that of magic; in the former, indeed, there is no invocation of the devil, but he comes of himself. Whoever gives himself up to it plucks from nature something that cannot be lawfully won except in the church of Jesus Christ, and which cannot keep its power of healing, and sanctifying, except in her bosom. Nature, for all such as are not in active union with Jesus Christ by true faith and sanctifying grace, is full of satanic influences. Magnetic subjects see nothing in its essence and in its relation of dependence upon God; they see everything in a state of isolation and separation, as if they were looking through a hole or crack. They see one ray of things; and would to God this ray were pure—that is to say, holy! It is in God's mercy that he has veiled and separated us from one another; that he has raised a wall between us. Since we are all full of sin, and exercise influence one upon the other, it is well that we should be obliged to interpose some preamble before seducing one another and reciprocating the contagious influence of the evil spirit. But in Jesus Christ, God himself made man is given us as our head, in union with whom we can, when purified and sanctified, become one—one body—without bringing into this union our sins and evil inclinations. Whoever would bring to an end in any other way this separation which God has established is uniting himself, after a most dangerous fashion, to fallen nature, in which he reigns with all his allurements who drew it to its fall.

"I see that magnetism is essentially true; but in that veiled light there crouches a thief who has broken his chain. All union amongst sinners is dangerous, interpenetration more especially so. But when this befalls a soul that is altogether cloudless; when a state, the condition of whose clairvoyance is its simplicity and directness, falls a prey to artifice and intrigue, then one of the faculties of man before his fall—a faculty which is not quite dead—is in a certain manner revived, to leave him more unarmed, more mystified, and exposed internally to the assaults of the demon. This state is real—it exists; but it is covered with a veil, because it is a spring poisoned for all except the saints.

"I feel that the state of these persons follows a course in certain respects parallel to mine, but moving in an opposite direction, coming from elsewhere, and having other consequences. The sin of a man with only the faculty of ordinary vision is an act wrought by the senses or in their forum. The inward light is not thereby darkened, but speaks in the conscience, and urges from within, like a judge, to sensible acts of repentance and penance. It leads us to those remedies which the church administers under a sensible form—the sacraments. Then the sensitive part is the sinner, and the inward light the accuser.

"But in the magnetic state, when the senses are dead, when the inward light receives and yields impressions, then that which is holiest in a man, the interior watcher, is exposed to deadly influences, to contagious infection of the evil spirit, such as the soul in the state of ordinary wakefulness can have no consciousness of, owing to the senses, subject as these are to the laws of time and space. At the same time, it cannot free itself of its sins by the purifying remedies of the church. I see, indeed, that a soul altogether pure and reconciled with God, even in the state in which the whole interior life is open, may chance not to be wounded by the devil. But I see that if she has previously consented to the least temptation, as very easily happens, especially to those of the female sex, Satan is free to play his game in the interior of the soul, which he always manages in a way to dazzle her with the semblance of sanctity. The visions become lies, and, if she perchance discover some way of healing the mortal body, she pays a costly price for it in the secret defilement of an immortal soul."

"To say nothing of the soul, I do not believe that a man's body could any how by demons-craft be turned into bestial limbs and lineaments; but the fantastic part of man's nature (which, in the processes of thinking and dreaming, is countlessly specificated, and which, though itself no body, yet with wondrous swiftness, when the man's bodily senses are holden in sleep or bondage, adapts to itself the images of bodies) may be presented in some I know not what ineffable way, under a bodily form, to the senses of others, the while their bodies be elsewhere alive, indeed, but with their senses much more heavily and mightily bound than in sleep. And that fantastic part appears to the eyes of others, as it were, incorporated in the likeness of another creature; and such the man seems to himself to be, and to carry burdens. While burdens, if they be real bodies and not fantastic, the demons carry to deceive spectators, who see on the one hand the burdens, which are real; on the other the beasts, which are mere appearances."

"In the morning of the 21st of September, 1774, after Alphonso had ended Mass, contrary to custom, he threw himself into his arm-chair; he was cast down and silent, he made no movement of any sort, never articulated a word, and said nothing to any one. He remained in this state all that day and all the following night; and, during all this time, he took no nourishment, and did not attempt to undress. The servants, on seeing the state he was in, did not know what was going to happen, and remained up and at his room door, but no one dared to enter it.

"On the morning of the 22d, he had not changed his position; and no one knew what to think about it. The fact was that he was in a prolonged ecstasy. However, when the day became further advanced, he rang the bell to announce that he intended to celebrate Mass. This signal was not only answered by Brother Francis Anthony, according to custom, but all the people in the house hurried to him with eagerness. On seeing so many people, his lordship asked what was the matter, with an air of surprise. 'What is the matter?' they replied. 'You have neither spoken nor eaten anything for two days, and you ceased to give any signs of life.' 'That is true,' replied Alphonso; 'but you do not know that I have been with the Pope, who has just died.'... Ere long, the tidings of the death of the Pope Clement were received; he passed to a better life on the 22d of September, at seven o'clock in the morning, at the very moment when Alphonso came to himself."

"Mary, the wife of John Goffe, of Rochester, was attacked by a lingering illness, and was removed ten miles from her home to her father's house at West Malling, at which place she died June 4, 1691. On the eve of her death, she was possessed with a great longing to see her children, whom she had left at home with their nurse. She besought her husband to hire a horse, that she might go to Rochester and die with her children. They pointed out to her that she was not in a condition to leave her bed and mount on horseback. She insisted that anyhow she would make the attempt. 'If I cannot sit upright,' said she, 'I will lie down on the horse; for I must see my dear little ones.' The clergyman visited her about ten o'clock at night. She seemed perfectly resigned to die, and full of confidence in the divine mercy. 'All that troubles me,' said she, 'is that I am not to see my children any more.' Between one and two in the morning, she had a kind of ecstasy. According to the statement of Widow Turner, who was watching beside her during the night, her eyes were open and fixed, and her mouth shut. The nurse put her hand to her mouth and nostrils, and felt no breath; she therefore supposed that the sick woman had fainted, and, indeed, was not clear whether she was alive or dead. When she came to herself, she told her mother that she had been to Rochester, and had seen her children. 'Impossible,' replied the mother; 'you have never for a moment left your bed.' 'For all that,' rejoined the other, 'I went to-night and saw my children during my sleep.' The Widow Alexander, the children's nurse, declared on her side that, a little before two o'clock in the morning, she saw Mary Goffe come out of the room next to hers, where one of the children was sleeping by itself, with the door open between them, and enter her room; and that she remained about a quarter of an hour close to the bed where she was lying with the youngest child. Her eyes moved and her lips looked as if they were speaking; but she said nothing. The nurse professed herself willing to affirm on oath in the presence of the authorities all that she had said, and to take the sacrament upon it. She added that she was perfectly awake, and that the dawn was beginning to break, as it was one of the shortest nights of the year. She sat up in bed, and watched the apparition attentively. She heard the clock on the bridge strike two. After a few moments had passed, she said, 'In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, who are you?' At these words, the apparition vanished."

"My sister-in-law had heart disease. Mrs. Varley and I went into the country to see her, as we feared, for the last time. I had a nightmare, and could not move a muscle. While in this state, I saw the spirit of my sister-in-law in the room. I knew that she was confined to her bed-room. She said, 'If you do not move, you will die,' but I could not move; and she said, 'If you submit yourself to me, I will frighten you, and you will then be able to move.' At first I objected, wishing to ascertain more about her spirit-presence. When at last I consented, my heart had ceased beating. I think at first her efforts to terrify me did not succeed; but when she suddenly exclaimed, 'O Cromwell! I am dying,' that frightened me exceedingly, and threw me out of the torpid state, and I awoke in the ordinary way. My shouting had aroused Mrs. Varley; we examined the door, and it was still locked and bolted, and I told my wife what had happened, having noted the hour—3:45 A.M.—and cautioned her not to mention the matter to anybody, and to hear what was her sister's version, if she alluded to the subject. In the morning, she told us that she had passed a dreadful night, that she had been in our room, and greatly troubled on my account; and that I had been nearly dying. It was between half-past three and four when she saw I was in danger. She only succeeded in rousing me by exclaiming, 'O Cromwell! I am dying.' I appeared to her to be in a state which otherwise would have ended fatally."