The greatest truth may lie in smallest things,
The greatest good in what we most despise,
The greatest light may break from darkest skies,
The greatest chord from e'en the weakest strings.
Cheiro.
If any science, art, or work has for its beginning, its object, and its end the improvement of humanity and the advancement of the race, then that work, art, or science deserves the encouragement and recognition that is its due.
Of all branches of the study of human nature, that of the hand has the most powerful claim. By it one can detect, not only the faults in mankind, but the way in which those faults may be redeemed. It is the key to that cabinet of character in which nature conceals not only the motive power necessary for every-day life, but those latent talents and energies that by the knowledge of self we can bring to bear upon our lives.
There are few—if any—of us who, looking back upon the past, will not at some time confess to months, years, and often the greater part of life’s span, that have been lost, through the fault of parents and our own ignorance combined.
“Know thyself,” the motto of the ancients, is the simplest but the grandest sermon that can ring within our ears. By the knowledge of nature do we honor nature; let us then consider the study that can give such knowledge: for by the knowledge of self may we master self, and by the improvement of self may we also improve mankind—to the advancement of the race, to the honor of the world, and to the glory of those who, in the march of time, will fill life’s broken ranks, and some day take our place.
To endeavor to show the solid and sufficient foundation that this study p. 2 rests upon, I will merely ask my readers to follow the pages of this defense, with curiosity if they wish, but, I hope, with curiosity tempered by common sense and patience. It shall therefore be my province to assume the position of the student, and not that of the partisan. Thus, discarding the argumentative standpoint, do I present the history of the study, and the facts upon which it rests, feeling assured that the result will be satisfactory to the reason, the logic, and the common sense of those who, from it matters not what motive, may examine this study for themselves.
To consider the origin of this science, we must take our thoughts back to the earliest days of the world’s history, and furthermore to the consideration of a people the oldest of all, yet one that has survived the fall of empires, nations, and dynasties, and who are to-day as characteristic and as full of individuality as they were when thousands of years ago the first records of history were written. I allude to those children of the East, the Hindus, a people whose philosophy and wisdom are every day being more and more revived. Looking back to the earliest days of the history of the known world, we find that the first linguistic records belong to the people under consideration, and date back to that far-distant cycle of time known as the Aryan civilization. Beyond history we cannot go; but the monuments and cave temples of India, according to the testimony of archæologists, all point to a time so far beyond the scant history at our disposal, that in the examination of such matters our greatest knowledge is dwarfed into infantile nothingness—our age and era are but the swaddling-clothes of the child; our manhood that of the infant in the arms of the eternity of time.
In endeavoring to trace the origin of palmistry, we are carried back to the confines of a prehistoric age. History tells us that in the remotest period of the Aryan civilization it had even a literature of its own. Beyond this we cannot go; but as fragments of this literature are even now extant, we must therefore conclude that it had a still more remote infancy; but into that night of antiquity we dare not venture. There are no stars to guide, no faded moons to show us light; and so, standing on the borders of the known, we gaze into the darkness of the unknown, from the vastness of which we occasionally draw the bones of a mammoth or the fragments of a shrine: they are helps to knowledge; they are weeds upon the sands of time; p. 3 they tell us of days before our days, of races before our race, of verdant islands, of civilization sunk forever in the ocean of antiquity.
As regards the people who first understood and practised this study of the hand, we find undisputed proofs of their learning and knowledge. Long before Rome or Greece or Israel was even heard of, the monuments of India point back to an age of learning beyond, and still beyond. From the astronomical calculations that the figures in their temples represent, it has been estimated that the Hindus understood the precession of the equinoxes centuries before the Christian era. In some of the ancient cave temples, the mystic figures of the Sphinx silently tell that such knowledge had been possessed and used in advance of all those nations afterward so celebrated for their learning. It has been demonstrated that to make a change from one sign to another in the zodiacal course of the sun must have occupied at the least 2140 years, and how many centuries elapsed before such changes came to be observed and noticed it is impossible to even estimate.
The intellectual power which was necessary to make such observations speaks for itself; and yet it is to such a people that we trace the origin of the study under consideration. With the spread of the Hindu teachings into other lands do we trace the spread of the knowledge of palmistry. The Hindu Vedas are the oldest scriptures that have been found, and according to some authorities they have been the foundation of even the Greek schools of learning.
When we consider that palmistry is the offspring of such a race, we should for such a reason alone at least treat it with respect, and be more inclined to examine its claims for justice than we are at present. In the examination of these points we therefore find that this study of the hand is one of the most ancient in the world. History again comes to our assistance, and tells that in the northwest province of India palmistry was practised and followed by the Joshi caste from time immemorial to the present day.
It may be interesting to describe here, in as few words as possible, an extremely ancient and curious book on the markings of hands, that I was allowed to use and examine during my sojourn in India. This book was one of the greatest treasures of the few Brahmans who possessed and understood p. 4 it, and was jealously guarded in one of those old cave temples that belong to the ruins of ancient Hindustan.
This strange book was made of human skin, pieced and put together in the most ingenious manner. It was of enormous size, and contained hundreds of well-drawn illustrations, with records of how, when, and where this or that mark was proved correct.
One of the strangest features in connection with it was that it was written in some red liquid which age had failed to spoil or fade. The effect of those vivid red letters on the pages of dull yellow skin was most remarkable. By some compound, probably made of herbs, each page was glazed, as it were, by varnish; but whatever this compound may have been, it seemed to defy time, as the outer covers alone showed the signs of wear and decay. As regards the antiquity of this book there could be no question. It was apparently written in three sections or divisions: the first part belonged to the earliest language of the country, and dated so far back that very few of even the Brahmans could read or decipher it. There are many such treasures in Hindustani; but all are so jealously guarded by the Brahmans that neither money, art, nor power will ever release such pledges of the past.
As the wisdom of this strange race spread far and wide across the earth, so the doctrines and ideas of palmistry spread and were practised in other countries. Just as religion suits itself to the conditions of the race in which it is propagated, so has palmistry been divided into systems. The most ancient records, however, are those found among the Hindus. It is difficult to trace its path from country to country. In far-distant ages it has been practised in China, Tibet, Persia, and Egypt; but it is to the days of the Grecian civilization that we owe the present clear and lucid form of the study. The Greek civilization has in many ways been considered the highest and most intellectual in the world, and here it was that palmistry, or cheiromancy—from the Greek cheir, the hand—grew, flourished, and found favor in the sight of those whose names are as stars of honor in the firmament of knowledge. We find that Anaxagoras taught and practised it in 423 b.c. We find that Hispanus discovered, on an altar dedicated to Hermes, a book on cheiromancy written in gold letters, which he sent as a present to Alexander the Great, as “a study worthy the attention of an elevated and p. 5 inquiring mind.” We find it also sanctioned by such men of learning as Aristotle, Pliny, Paracelsus, Cardamis, Albertus Magnus, the Emperor Augustus, and many others of note.
Now, whether these ancient people were more enlightened than we are has long been a question of dispute. The point, however, which has been admitted, and the one which concerns this study most, is, that as in those days the greatest study of mankind was man, it therefore follows that in a study like this their conclusions are far more likely to be right than are those of an age famous for its implements of destruction, its steam-engines, and its commerce. Again, if an age like the present will admit, and has admitted, that those Greek philosophers were men of extraordinary depth of thought and learning, and that their works, thoughts, and ideas are worthy of the deepest respect, why should we then lightly consider their authority on this subject, and throw aside a study that so deeply occupied their attention? And again, if we go back, as we do, to these men for their learning in other matters, why, in the name of all that is reasonable, should we reject their knowledge in this?
Now, as in the study of mankind there came to be recognized a natural position on the face for the nose, eyes, ears, etc., so also on the hand there came to be recognized a natural position for the line of head, the line of life, and so on. The time and study devoted to the subject enabled these students to give names to these marks; as the line of head, meaning mentality; the line of heart, affection; the line of life, longevity; and so on, with every mark or mount that the hand possesses. This brings us down to the period when the power of the church was beginning to be felt outside the domain and jurisdiction of religion. It is said that the early Fathers were jealous of the power of this old-world science. Such may or may not have been the case; but even in the present day we find that the church constitutes itself in all matters, both spiritual and temporal, the chosen oracle of God. Without wishing to seem intolerant, one cannot help but remark that the history of any dominant religion is the history of the opposition to knowledge, unless that knowledge proceed from its teachings. Palmistry, therefore, the child of pagans and heathens, was not even given a trial. It was denounced as rank sorcery and witchcraft. The devil was conjured up as the father of all p. 6 palmists, and the result was that men and women, terrified to acknowledge such a parentage, allowed palmistry to become outlawed and fall into the hands of vagrants, tramps, and gipsies.
During the middle ages several attempts were made to revive this ancient study; as, for instance, “Die Kunst Ciromanta,” published in 1475, and “The Cyromantia Aristotelis cum Figuris,” published 1490, which is at present in the British Museum. These attempts were useful in keeping the ashes of the study from dying out; but it is in the nineteenth century that once more it rises a Phœnix from the fire of persecution which has tried in vain to destroy it. The science of the present has come to the rescue of the so-called superstition of the past. On almost every side proof is being added to proof that this ancient study is not a delusion, but a real thing—a jewel, as it were, dimmed and covered by the accumulations of bigotry and superstition, yet one which contains within its depths that light of truth which nature’s followers delight to know and worship.
It may be well here to defend palmistry from the attacks of the church. Let us examine for a moment the right of the church to attack it. Alas! his majesty Satan has still the reputation of being behind every person who dares to advance any science or thought that may not be in accordance with the interpretation of the church’s idea of right and wrong. I had not been in London one month before a Catholic priest refused to give absolution to an entire family because they had consulted me against his orders. In America, during my first year, I was visited by two clergymen, with the object of persuading me that my success was due alone to the agency of the devil. One went so far as to tell me that God had sent him to offer me a clerkship—at a small salary, of course—if I would only give up my relations with the Evil One. But all this is not to be wondered at when one remembers that in this year (1894), in one of the most prominent churches in America, a very noted clergyman used these words:
“Let me tell you what I saw a few years ago with my own eyes.” Then followed a long description of “a fiery animal shaped like a horse, that glowed like a burning coal, which had a man mounted upon it without arms. It rolled from one end of the island to the other, and from side to side with immense speed. The people were terrified; they thought it was the devil, p. 7 and they implored me to intercede for them, but I refused.... I have traveled all over the world and seen the greatest sights and wonders of the earth; but I never saw anything like that before. It was a warning to all who saw it, and represented Satan and his army, who are to visit with awful results the sinners of the earth.”
I make no comment. I quote the above words verbatim from a leading New York paper of the 3d of March, 1894, which reported the entire sermon.
The church is not consistent; its foundation is the Bible, and from the first of Genesis to the end of Revelation the Bible is a book of fate. In the opening chapters we find that God ordained a certain time when a virgin would conceive, and a little later when a Judas would betray. Poor Judas thus becomes a selected victim, a child of fate, from whom opportunities would arise to alter the destiny of nations. It is useless to say that Judas was a free agent; if he had shirked his fate would not some other man have had to take his place “that the Scriptures might be fulfilled”? Over fourteen times in the Gospels do we find these mysterious words. In almost every portion of the Bible we find the spirit of prophecy encouraged. We find “Schools of the Prophets” established for such a purpose, and indications that divinations were held in high repute by God’s chosen people. Among the Hebrews, as among the Hindus, Egyptians, Chaldeans, and all nations who encouraged the spirit of prophecy, the prophets were a separate and distinct class from the priesthood. Among the Jews the prophets often acted in direct opposition to the priesthood, denouncing in the strongest language the abominations and corruptions that they practised. Again, what can be more mystical, or more allied to magic, than the ancient cabala of the Jews? According to tradition it was communicated by God to Adam, by Adam given to Seth, and lost by the latter in some mysterious way. It was renewed again by God to Moses on Mount Sinai, from Moses to Joshua, from Joshua to the Seventy Elders, and was sometimes utilized by learned Jews instead of the counsels of the Talmud. Examining the Biblical statement that the Jews were in bondage to Egypt at a time when the Egyptians were famous for their magic, it cannot be wondered at that after leaving that land of mystery they would still cling to the teachings imbibed while there. According to many authorities, the description of the Hebrews despoiling p. 8 the Egyptians on the eve of their departure, and robbing them of their ornaments, signifies in cabalistic language “the taking from them the external rites and ceremonials of their magical worship.” We therefore find that the Bible, upon which the creeds of the modern church are founded, is tinged with the mysticism common to its time; that it encourages prophecy, and that it teaches fate: which three things in the study of palmistry arouse the wrath of the church, and are denounced as sorcery, witchcraft, and everything else contrary to the teachings of God.
In view of the opposition of the church, it is interesting to notice the many important phrases in the Bible in which hands are mentioned. There are many authorities who affirm that among the arts learned by the Jews while in Egypt was this study of the hand; but the most important verse that is used in support of this is the seventh of the thirty-seventh chapter of Job. In the original Hebrew it appears to have a very different meaning from that given to it by the English version. One translation of it runs, “God placed signs or seals in the hands of men, that all men might know their works.” This verse, about the middle of the sixteenth century, caused some very great discussions among theologians and commentators. Among them we find that many advocated the cheiromantic aspect that the lines of the hand are “the markings of God, that all men might know their works.” Among those in support of this view were Franciscus Valesius, Schultens, Lyrannus, Thomassin, and Debrio, and this is all the more remarkable when one remembers that these men could not have lived in a more antagonistic age in which to propagate their views. The translation of the Bible into English at a time when the opposition to palmistry, sorcery, and witchcraft was at its height, is very probably the cause of the wording of this verse as it now stands.
Among other verses that seem to bear a relation to this point might be mentioned:
“Length of days is in her right hand, riches and honor are in her left.” (Prov. iii. 16.)
“What evil is in mine hand?” (1 Sam. xxvi. 18.)
“And receive his mark in his forehead, or in his hand.” (Rev. xiv. 9.)
But of all the many allusions to the subject, the verse in Job is certainly p. 9 the most important, and one which, as I have shown, has called forth the support of even theologians.
In connection with the opposition of the church, the most absurd point, to my mind, is, that this very church does not hesitate to preach fate for another world while determinedly tabooing such a doctrine as regards this. There are a great many sects who openly advocate the doctrine of predestination as far as religious matters are concerned. What is known as the English Church goes so far as to make it one of her articles of faith, as in the seventeenth Article of Religion, where it is stated that “predestination to life is the everlasting purpose of God, whereby, before the foundations of the world were laid, He hath decreed by His counsel secret to us,” to do this, that, or the other, according to the ideas of the learned gentlemen who framed the article.
To thus deal with an eternity of life, to thus plan out the political economy of that which is unknown, is a thousand times more unreasonable than to ask people to believe that as the hands are the servants of the system, so all things which affect the system affect them. It is strange, but it is a fact that the people who believe the most extraordinary theories as regards religion are the very people who cry out that it is absurd to believe in any study like this of palmistry. Surely this is not consistent.
We will now see what science has done for palmistry, and whether or not it has any foundation beyond that of mere speculation and hypothesis. In this age of specialism which is so characteristic of the nineteenth century, we find in almost all departments of life men devoting their time to some one particular branch of study. In past ages it was common for a man to be a physician, a chemist, and a surgeon combined. There was, in fact, no limit to the things to which he might turn his attention. In the nineteenth century, however, and particularly toward its close, we find specialists arising in all directions. A surgeon need not practise as a physician, nor a physician as a surgeon; a dentist need not be a doctor, and a chemist need not be a bone-setter. Particularly in science is this change seen, and with very astonishing results in the independent discoveries and improvements that have been made.
This specialism has, however, one very great evil. It may give greater p. 10 knowledge on particular things, but it confines men to a narrower line of thought. It therefore happens that the physician may know little about anatomy, whereas the surgeon may know next to nothing of medicine; the nerve specialist won’t treat the common ailments of life, and the doctor will not infringe upon the latter; the physician who devotes his talents to consumption cures won’t treat fever patients; and so on. Now all this leads up to a very grave point, namely, the unreasonable way in which the ordinary populace treat the ordinary medical man. A man sees, perhaps, a strange experiment in hypnotism; he goes to his physician, and because that physician, who probably has never devoted five minutes’ study to such a subject, pronounces such a thing impossible, the patient goes away and tells his acquaintances to pooh-pooh the idea, because Dr. So-and-so does not believe in it. Now, when one considers that even in medicine there are hundreds of mysteries perfectly unknown to the ordinary medical man, how much more so may it not be in regard to the mysteries of life and nature, which are subject to invisible laws beyond the power of man to analyze?
I respect doctors as a body of educated men; but I do not respect the idea that they should be the appointed judges of such matters as telepathy, mesmerism, clairvoyance, and so on, without any other qualification but that of having M.D. to their name. It was Voltaire who said that “Newton, with all his science, did not know how his hand moved.” Almost every day in my work, the following conversation occurs:
“Well, sir, you have told me the events of my past life so accurately from these lines that I am half inclined to believe you can tell the future; but I have asked Dr. So-and-so; he says it must be all humbug, so I really do not know what to think.” Alas! Dr. So-and-so too often turns out to be a man who has never had the time, the opportunity, or even the inclination to study the connection between the brain and the hand. He has not even read the works of medical specialists on the subject. He has confined himself to the treatment of fever, pneumonia, the illnesses of children, or the hypochondriacal fads and fancies of age. He knows that there are such things as hands, that they are dry and hot during fever, and that is about all.
In reference to this I quote a few remarks from the address of the president p. 11 of the New Jersey State Medical Society, at its meeting, June, 1893, in which he said:
“How many physicians know anything of the natural cause of most diseases except by hearsay? How many have had the courage to observe for themselves while sternly combating the seductive opportunity of prescribing a variety of unnecessary medicines?”
Not more than twenty years ago almost every physician of note cried out that hypnotism was impossible. To-day the same profession embraces it, and studies the very laws whose existence it once denied. It is the same with cheiromancy: for years they have pooh-poohed the idea; to-day they admit that diseases are indicated in a marvelous manner by the hand, and at present the study of the shape of the nails is a branch calling forth the greatest attention from medical men in both London and Paris.
If the medical profession could only forget their old-time prejudices; if they could only be persuaded to take some reliable work on palmistry and study it for themselves—they would without doubt come to the conclusion that, in the words of Hispanus, it was indeed “a study worthy the attention of an elevated and inquiring mind.”
In relation to this I publish the following letter which appeared in the Student, a paper belonging to the University of Edinburgh, Scotland, dated January 29, 1890.
Cheiromancy
Sir: Some years ago I was walking through one of the wards in the Royal Infirmary, when suddenly the idea occurred to me that I would examine the lines on a patient’s hand.
I went to the nearest bed, and without pausing to look at the patient, I examined his hand. I knew little of palmistry, and believed still less; in fact, I hardly knew more than the names of the five principal lines, and that breaks in those lines usually meant misfortune. I examined the hands, and saw the life-line broken in both hands, and the fate-line, before it had reached a quarter of its natural length, stopped and replaced by a large cross. I questioned the patient, and found that he was twenty-three years old, and far gone in phthisis. He died in a few days. I could multiply instances, but space forbids. Would you then allow me to offer a few suggestions as to the possible relation of these lines to processes carried on in the cells of the gray matter? I am well aware that palmistry is considered quackery and humbug; but, after all, facts are stubborn things, even if they do not rest on any known scientific basis.
[A few suggestions on the possible relation of linear markings on the palm of the hand to certain physiological and psychical processes in the brain.]
1. The hand is a high stage of development peculiar to man as a reasonable being.
2. Tendencies, such as eloquence, anger, and affection, are shown by movements.
3. These movements are coarse and fine, and so produce large and small creases or lines.
4. Creases and lines, therefore, bear a definite relation to movements, and so to tendencies.
5. There are four well-marked creases or lines on every hand, found by experience to bear a definite relation to the tendencies of affection, mental capacity, longevity, and mental bent, or what cheiromants call “fate.”
6. A line crossing the longevity line, a branch or break in it, interferes with its uniformity, and therefore interferes with the uniformity of the tendency to live.
7. Nerves regulating coarser and finer motions, and so creases or lines, contain chiefly motor fibers; but probably also other filaments transmitting in vibrations the resultant or combined effect of acquired and constitutional tendencies, and determining it to that part of the longevity line that will be affected, and there causing a crease resembling a cross by its junction with the main line or a branch, as the case may be.
8. The same train of reasoning obviously applies to avoidable accidents—that is, accidents caused by carelessness.
9. Unavoidable accidents. Certain tracts of cells in the conical gray matter are, incredible as it may seem, probably affected by coming events, and made to vibrate; hence, vague fears, intuitive perception, but no actual train of reasoning. The vibrations excited in these cells cannot awaken the activity of the cells engaged in reasoning processes that adjoin them, but merely cause protoplasmic vibrations in them, these vibrations being transmitted and marked on the hand by creases of different shapes. According to cheiromants, the left hand is what you are, constitutionally; the right hand, what you make yourself or acquire. We may, therefore, reasonably expect to see in the right hand the resultant of acquired and constitutional tendencies.
As regards futurity, I think it not impossible that Professor Charcot’s researches on the higher functions of the nervous system will demonstrate that tracts of cells, or a pathological condition of these cells, enables a perception of futurity, but no memory of it.
(Signed) Speranus.
It will thus be seen that it requires but a little study of the subject to convince even the most skeptical that “there is something in the lines”; and if a little, why not a great deal, if a sufficient amount of study be devoted to it?
In medical work, hœmatoma of the ear has been for a long time recognized. This consists in the upper portion of the ear assuming a peculiar shape, either by the formation of a blood tumor, or by the thickening of the upper portion, which is found in the ears of lunatics, generally those who inherit madness; but in Paris lately it has been more closely studied, with the result that in August, 1893, tests were given before the Académie des Sciences, proving that madness could be predicted years in advance by a proper study of the ear alone. Now my argument is, that if, as has been proved, accurate prediction can be made by a study of the ear, is there then anything impossible in prediction being far more accurately made by a study p. 13 of the hand, which has been pronounced to be, both in nerves and mechanism, the most wonderful organ in the entire system, and to have the most intimate connection with the brain?
Almost all medical men admit now that the different formations of nails indicate different diseases, and that it is possible from the nails alone to predict that the subject will suffer from paralysis, consumption, heart disease, and so on. Many a well-known doctor has told me that he has read more from the hand than he dared acknowledge, and that it was but the old-time prejudices which kept many a man from admitting the same thing.
At this point let me also draw a comparison between the way a doctor treats his patient and the way a palmist treats his client. I draw this comparison on account of the unfair manner in which medical men as a rule treat the palmist.
In the first place, the doctor has a recognized science to go by; he has scientific instruments with the most modern improvements to assist his researches; but how many can tell the patient what he is suffering from, unless the patient first tells the doctor all about himself and his symptoms; and even then, how often can the doctor arrive at a correct diagnosis? Many of my readers will remember that during the great epidemic of La Grippe in London, 1890, letters appeared in the leading papers relating to the experiences of a man who visited seven of the most noted physicians of the day; that these seven, after thoroughly examining him, each said he was suffering from a different disease, and all prescribed entirely different drugs for him to take.
Now, in the case of a palmist, the client, without giving his or her name, without telling his occupation, or whether married or single, simply holds out his hands, and the palmist has to tell him past events in his life, present surroundings, health, past and present; and having, by accuracy only, gained his confidence, he proceeds to read the future from the same materials that he has told the past. Now, if the palmist, without one particle of the help that the doctor gets, should make one mistake, the client immediately considers that he is a charlatan, and palmistry a delusion and a snare. If, however, the doctor makes a blunder, it is never known, but the result is that the patient has been “called away by Providence to another sphere.”
I leave my readers to draw their own conclusions.
Among the testimony and ideas given by scientific men we find the greatest possible arguments in favor of the cheiromantic use of the lines, formations, mounts, and so forth. In the first place, the markings of no two hands have ever been found alike. This is particularly noticeable in the case of twins; the lines will be widely different if the natures are different in their individuality, but at least some important difference will be shown, in accordance with the different temperaments. It has also been noted that even with the lines of the hand a certain peculiarity will run in families for generations, and that each succeeding race will also show in temperament whatever that peculiar characteristic is. But again, it will be found that in the markings of the hand some children bear very little resemblance, in the position of the lines, to those of the parents, and that, if one watches their lives, they will, in accordance with this theory, be found very different from those who gave them birth. Again, one child may resemble the father, another the mother, and the markings of the hand will also be found to correspond with the markings on the hand of the particular parent that the child resembles.
It is a very popular fallacy that the lines are made by work. The direct opposite, however, is the case. At the birth of the infant the lines are deeply marked (Plate XXVI.). Work, on the contrary, covers the hand with a coarse layer of skin, and so hides instead of exposes them; but if the hand is softened, by poulticing or other means, the entire multitude of marks will be shown at any time from the cradle to the grave.
The superiority of the hand is well worthy our attention. Scientists and men of learning in all ages have agreed that it plays one of the most important parts of all the members of the body. Anaxagoras has said: “The superiority of man is owing to his hands.” In Aristotle’s writings we find: “The hand is the organ of organs, the active agent of the passive powers of the entire system.” In our own day, such men as Sir Richard Owen, Humphrey, and Sir Charles Bell all call attention to the importance of the hand. Sir Charles Bell in 1874 writes: “We ought to define the hand as belonging exclusively to man, corresponding, in its sensibility and motion, to the endowment of his mind.”
Sir Richard Owen, in his work on “The Nature of Limbs,” published in 1849, says: “In the hand every single bone is distinguishable from one another; each digit has its own peculiar character.”
It has long been known and recognized that the hand can express almost as much by its gestures and positions as the lips can by speech. Quintilian, speaking of the language of hands, says: “For the other parts of the body assist the speaker, but these, I may say, speak for themselves; they ask, they promise, they invoke, they dismiss, they threaten, they entreat, they deprecate, they express fear, joy, grief, our doubts, our assents, our penitence, they show moderation, profusion, they mark number and time.”
We will now give our attention to the skin, the nerves, and the sense of touch. The highest authority we can have on the hand is Sir Charles Bell. Speaking of the skin, he says: “The cuticle is so far a part of the organ of touch that it is the medium through which the external impression is conveyed to the nerve. The extremities of the fingers best exhibit the provisions for the exercise of this sense. The nails give support to the tips of the fingers, and in order to sustain the elastic cushion that forms their extremities they are made broad and shield-like. This cushion is an important part of the exterior apparatus. Its fulness and elasticity adapt it admirably for touch. It is a remarkable fact that we cannot feel the pulse with the tongue, but that we can with the fingers. On a nearer inspection we discover in the points of the fingers a more particular provision for adapting them to touch. Wherever the sense of feeling is most exquisite, there we see minute spiral ridges of the cuticle. These ridges have corresponding depressions on the inner surface, and they again give lodgment to soft, pulpy processes of the skin called papillæ, in which lie the extremities of the sentient nerves. Thus the nerves are adequately protected, while they are at the same time sufficiently exposed to have impressions communicated to them through the elastic cuticle and thus give rise to the sense of touch.”
As regards the nerves, medical science has demonstrated that the hand contains more nerves than any other portion of the system, and the palm contains more than any other portion of the hand. It has also been shown that the nerves from the brain to the hand are so highly developed by generations of use, that the hand, whether passive or active, is in every sense the immediate p. 16 servant of the brain. A very interesting medical work states “that every apparent single nerve is in reality two nerve cords in one sheath; the one conveys the action of the brain to the part, and the other conveys the action of the part to the brain.”
In connection with this, it is important to consider the corpuscles that are found in the hand. Meissner, in his “Anatomy and Physiology of the Hand” (Leipzig, 1853), showed that these corpuscles in the hand have a very important meaning. He demonstrated that these “unyielding molecular substances” were found in the tips of the fingers, the lines of the hand, and disappeared completely at the wrist; that these corpuscles contained the end of the important nerve fiber, and during the life of the body gave forth certain crepitations or vibrations, which ceased the moment life became extinct. “I have counted,” says he, “in the first phalange of the volar surface of the forefinger of a full-grown man, one hundred and eight corpuscles, and about four hundred papillæ in a square line.”
These investigations were afterward followed up by experiments as to the noises or crepitations that they gave forth during life. It was demonstrated that people with acute hearing could detect these vibrations distinct and different in every human being. And in the case of a man experimented on in Paris, who was born blind, but whom nature had compensated by giving him a greater sense of hearing, it was found that by listening to the vibrations of these corpuscles “he could determine the sex, age, and temperament, the state of health, and even their nearness to illness and death.”
We will now turn our attention to what, perhaps, as far as palmistry is concerned, may be the most important point of all, namely, as to the ideas of men of learning as regards a fluid or essence in connection with the nerves and the brain.
On this point Abercrombie states: “The communication of perceptions from the senses to the mind has been accounted for by motions of the nervous fluid, by vibrations of the nerves, or by a subtle essence resembling electricity or galvanism.” We find that this theory has been very freely circulated by those who have devoted serious thought to the subject. Müller also says: “Perhaps there exists between the phenomena of the nervous system and of electricity a sympathy or connection at present unknown, p. 17 analagous to that which has been found to exist between electricity and magnetism.” And again he says: “We know not as yet whether or no, when the nerves convey an impression, an imponderable fluid flies along them with inconceivable rapidity, or whether the action of the nervous system consists of an imponderable principle already existent in the nerves, and placed in vibration by the brain.”
During my stay in London I had the honor of knowing personally Professor Savary d’Odiardi, a well-known French savant, who has devoted the greater part of his life to investigating the curative effect of electricity in disease. The astounding cures made by this man, through his knowledge of the part that electricity plays in daily life, have made him one of the greatest living authorities on the subject.
During a conversation I had with him he also stated that he considered the nerves a kind of telegraph system in conveying the current of thought from the brain to the body, but more especially in their connection and relation to the hand.
Herder, in his “Idées sur la Philosophie de l’Histoire de l’Humanité,” published Paris, 1827, writes also in favor of this theory. He speaks of the action of the nervous fluid, which he teaches is an essence far more subtle than that of electricity, and used to convey the impressions of the brain to the nerves. All such opinions from well-known men who have devoted time and thought to the subject go far to show that the influence of the mind in this or that direction must affect the lines, the nails, and in fact every portion of the hand. There is nothing superstitious in such a theory; it is based upon the findings of science, and has been supported by facts that are undisputed. After all, why should it be otherwise? According to eminent authorities like Sir Charles Bell, we find that they have demonstrated that “in the examination of a skeleton, a zoölogist recognizes that the irregularities and ridges found upon the surface of the bones are the result of the action and pressure of muscles and nerves”; that from the broken fragment of a bone the scientist can build up the entire structure and proportions of the dead animal, his race, habits, and even the diseases he would be liable to. If such, as has been proved, can be done from the fragment of a bone, looking at the subject from this standpoint alone, how much, I ask, may we not do by p. 18 a careful study of the most important member of the body—the hand? Is there anything absurd or ridiculous in the idea that the hand specialist (as the true palmist is) should attempt and be able to read the health, the surroundings of the past and present, and even the future, from an examination of the hand, independent of any palmistic theory of lines to go by?
That the lines are not produced by work we have noted earlier. If, therefore, as has been demonstrated, they are not produced by work, they likewise are not produced by constant folding. It is true that the hands fold on the lines, but it is also true that lines and marks are found where no folding can possibly take place, and if so in one case, why not in all? Again, there are many diseases (as, for example, paralysis) in which the lines completely disappear, although the hands continue to fold as before. The folding argument, it will therefore be observed, does not hold ground.
As regards the question, Is the study of phrenology and physiognomy to be considered as an aid in a cheiromantic examination? a little thought will convince the inquirer that such is not by any means necessary. A thorough study of the hand will combine both. The hand, by its direct communication with every portion of the brain, tells not only the qualities active, but those dormant, and those which will be developed. As regards physiognomy, the face allows itself to be too easily controlled to be accurate in its findings, but the lines cannot be altered to suit the purposes of the moment.
It is Balzac who has said, in his “Comédie Humaine”: “We acquire the faculty of imposing silence upon our lips, upon our eyes, upon our eyebrows, and upon our foreheads; the hand alone does not dissemble—no feature is more expressive than the hand.”
We will now turn to the question of the future as revealed by this study, and carefully examine the reasons advanced for such a belief.
In the first place, we must bear in mind that the meaning of the different lines in conjunction with the different types of hands dates back to that period already referred to when this study lay in the hands of men who devoted their lives to its cultivation. Now, as there came to be recognized a natural position for the nose or the lips on the face, so in the study of the hand there came to be recognized a natural position for the line of head or the line of life, as the case might be. How such a thing was originally discovered p. 19 is not our province to determine, but that the truth of such designations has been proved, and can be proved, will be admitted by any person who will even casually examine hands for himself. Therefore, if proved in one point that certain marks on the line of head mean this or that peculiarity mentally, and that certain marks on the line of life have been proved to be in relation to length of life or the reverse, the same course of observation, it is not illogical to assume, that can predict illness, health, madness, and death years in advance may, if persisted in, be also accurate in its observation that marriage will occur at this or that point, with this or that result, and also in regard to prosperity or the reverse. It is beyond my power to answer why such a thing should be, but it is surely not beyond my jurisdiction to advance the following theory: That as the hidden laws of nature become more revealed by each century of time, so does man become more cognizant of the fact that things before called mysteries are but produced by the action of certain laws that beforetime he was ignorant of. I also advance the theory that it is not possible for us to lead the isolated lives that at first sight appear probable; that as the laws which affect the entire universe affect us, so do we, as part of a whole, affect again those laws, and thus one another. In examining this question we find that the hand preaches, to a certain extent, the doctrine of fate, in its prediction of things years in advance, and in its relation to the effect of circumstances over which we have little or no control. There is here, however, a strange combination, not only interesting but instructive: man appears responsive to the dual laws of destiny and free will. Man has free will, I argue, but with limitations, as there are limitations to all other things in life—to one’s strength, to one’s height, to one’s age, and so forth. Free will is the oscillation of the cylinder, which very oscillation drives the eternal machinery of evolution. Looking over the pages of the Bible, we find destiny absolute, the purpose of God appearing in all things. Looking back over the history of the world, the fate of nations stands out in grand relief upon the somber background of the past. Man becomes the servant of destiny. The rulers of Rome, the Grecians of Athens, the Pharaohs of the Nile, all have served their purpose and are gone. We behold in all the slow but steady stride of evolution bearing us higher, bearing us to perfection. Let us look back—the lessons of the past may be the p. 20 teachers of the future. We behold an age when freedom of thought lay dying beneath the dogma of a church; we behold a bondage great as any when a Rama rose in Hindustan, a Moses in Egypt, or a Christ in Jerusalem; a million things lead to the one crisis—again history is repeated, again a man is forced to the front. Was there anything in the appearance of that insignificant monk, Luther, that he should be called upon to take such a responsibility upon his shoulders? Ah! he was not called upon by man; destiny was again absolute—nature was one-sided, the balance had to be restored. God—nature—fate—we will not quarrel about a name—working through the medium of hereditary laws, so fashioned a man that, standing in the niche of necessity, he was the lever upon which the fate of thousands depended. The same in the case of Napoleon, the same again in the boy George Washington, and as in the greater, so in the smaller; from creed to creed, from class to class, from the President to the preacher, from the banker to the gamin, all fulfil their purpose, each star within its sphere, each person, each position, all are chords and discords, notes and harmonies in the song of life, and as in the ultimate millennium of perfection will that perfection be eternal, so shall all share the perfection of that grand harmony of which even now we form the tones, the semi-tones, and the discords.
Is it hard to believe in some unseen law, some mysterious cause or power that thus shapes and controls our lives? If at first sight it seems so, we must consider the hundred and one things we have believed in with less foundation. To be consistent, we must remember the multitudinous variety of religions, creeds, and theories that have not only been accepted by the masses, but have been the solid beliefs of intellectual minds. If, therefore, people can so easily believe in that which is beyond this state of life, of which no actual facts exist, is there anything so very absurd in supporting a doctrine of fate, which it is logical to suppose exists, if we only take it from the standpoint of the repetition of events from natural causes? On this question I would draw attention to the words of Dugald Stewart in his “Outlines of Moral Philosophy,” published 1837, in which he says: “All philosophical inquiry, and all that practical knowledge which guides our conduct in life, presupposes such an established order in the succession of events as enables us to form conjectures concerning the future from the observation of the past.”
Man therefore becomes both the maker and the servant of destiny, he bringing into force, by his existence alone, certain laws that react upon himself, and, through him, upon others. The present is therefore the effect of a heretofore cause; and again, the present is the cause of a hereafter effect. The deeds of the past are the karma of the present, as in “the sins of the fathers,” and in the effect of hereditary laws. As we, therefore, work out our own fate, so do we make fate for those to follow, and so on in every degree from stage to stage in the world’s progress.
It will thus be seen that instead of this doctrine becoming a dangerous one, it becomes the reverse. It forces men and women to realize the responsibility of life: it teaches them to feel for others, and not to be careful alone for the salvation of self. This creed I hold would suit all classes of the community, would raise men by its unselfishness, would redeem them by its personal claim, would broaden men’s views, that where now they see but dogma they would see Truth; would teach that we, the children of humanity, being brothers and sisters, should serve one another, to the ultimate perfection of the race, to the benefit of all life, and to the advancement of those who are yet to come.
This doctrine of fate does not retard men from work, it advances them on the plane of work. It does not hold out a reward for work done, which, after all, is but the wage of the hireling; it gives the higher satisfaction of doing one’s best, that others may be better—no more. It teaches patience in trial, resignation in affliction, humbleness in success, and virtue in whatever position in life “it has pleased God (or fate) to call us.”
Contrast this doctrine with that of free will as usually preached, and what is the result? We find the greatest man reduced to the smallest atom in the immensity of humanity. We look lower in the scale of life, we see millions of beings crushing one another, living on one another, struggling with all the fierceness of their freedom. There is no contentment in such a scene, no peace, no beauty; not even in their religion do we find the rest which after death should be the reward of the weary.
On the other hand, the true fatalist will not close his hands and wait, he will open them and work, earnestly and patiently and well, remembering that the burden he bears has been made for him to teach him to make lighter p. 22 the burdens of others. He will feel that he is a link in life’s chain, which is eternal; that no matter how small that link may be, it still has its purpose—to be borne with patience, to be served with honor. ’Tis naught to him the clash of creeds, ’tis naught the success of the moment, or the failure of the year; he will do wrong in his life, as well as right—we all do; evil is as necessary as good—but he will do his best, that is all. And at the end—well, there is no end, for even if there be no life beyond, he lives again in the particles of clay from whence he came; but if there be a spirit, then is his spirit part of the eternal spirit of all things, and so in the success of all is he successful. This is, to my mind, the doctrine of fate as preached by this study of the hand; this is the creed that has been despised by the church and ranked as “an enemy to the teachings of God.” What that agency or power is which marks the hands may forever remain a mystery, but that does not qualify us for obstinately refusing to believe in it—because we do not know. A man might as well say, “I refuse to live, because I do not know all that constitutes life,” or “I refuse to think, because I do not know the process of thought.” There are hundreds of mysteries, even in the simple things of life, that the finite mind cannot fathom, but we cannot afford to discard them because we do not know their cause. The greatest thinkers, Christian or antichristian, have acknowledged their belief in some power beyond our control that “shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will.” What can be stronger than the words of Professor Tyndall: “Life and its conditions set forth the operations of an inscrutable power; we know not its origin, we know not its end; the presumption, if not the degradation, rests with those who place upon the throne of the universe a magnified image of themselves.”
Voltaire has said: “There is a power that acts within us without consulting us.”
And lastly, let me draw attention to the words of Emerson: “A little consideration of what takes place around us every day must show us that a higher law than that of our will regulates events.”
We have now seen how this study has survived from age to age. We have seen how even hard-headed materialistic science brings forth facts to support its theories. We have viewed it from a natural light, and we find it natural; we have examined it from a religious standpoint, and it is religious; p. 23 we find that good can be done through it, not only in its doctrines of the responsibility of life, but in its warnings, in its cautions, and in the knowledge of self that it gives to all. What, then, is to be done? Discard it, because of opposition? No, we must help it for the sake of the truth that it possesses. We must teach it to others, that its knowledge may be power. We must use it because of its use, we must support it because of its support; and lastly, to the man or woman who, in spite of reason, of proofs, of facts, still doubts—to such a person, using Foster’s argument against atheism as a foundation, I would say, that by taking such a position they do not do themselves justice as reasonable or intellectual beings. And why? Because unless they know every law that controls mankind, that law that they do not know may be the one whose existence they deny. Unless they have been in every portion of the universe, that portion they have not seen may contain the secret of the whole; and unless they know every power that constitutes life, that power they do not know may be the very one that marks the hand.