Auditive. June 27, 1897 (translated same seance).—Mme. Mirbel being present, Hélène perceives Esenale, who remains in the vicinity of his mother and addresses these words to her. The “adieux” at the close were not spoken at that time, but were uttered by Esenale immediately following and as a complement of the translation; this is the only case (outside of text 36) in which he did not confine himself strictly to the texts already gathered and in which he permitted himself to introduce a new phrase, which otherwise does not contain a single unknown word; itatinée, chérie, is evidently a slip which should be corrected either to tatinée, chérie, or to it atinée, ô chérie. The precise French equivalent of triménêni is probably entretenions.

* 16. astané ésenâle pouzé mêné simandini mirâ
(Astané. Esenale. Pouzé. Amie Simandini, adieu!)

Visual. August 22, 1897.—This text, for which there is no need of a translation, constitutes the first appearance of the Martian handwriting. See above, Fig. 21, and the résumé of that seance, pp. 203-205.

* 17. taniré mis méch med mirivé éziné brimaξ ti tès
Prends un crayon pour tracer mes paroles de cet
tensée—azini dé améir mazi si somé iche nazina
instant. Alors tu viendras avec moi admirer notre nouveau
tranéï.—Simandini cé kié mache di pédriné tès luné ké cé
passage. Simandini, je ne puis te quitter ce jour. Que je
êvé diviné—patrinèz kié nipuné ani
suis heureux!—Alors ne crains pas!

Graphic. September 12, 1897 (translated same seance).—See p. 207 and Fig. 23.

* 18. modé tatinée lâmi mis mirâ ti ché bigâ kâ
Mère chérie, voici un adieu de ton enfant qui
ébrinié sanâ é vi idé di zé rénir—zé mess métich kâ é
pense tant à toi. On te le portera, le grand homme qui a
zé valini iminé—ni z [é] grani sidiné
le visage mince et le corps maigre.

Auditive, then Graphic. October 10, 1897 (translated same seance).—Hélène has a vision of a Martian landscape, in which Esenale floats discarnate around the plants and speaks these words, which she repeats. (It is understood from the translation that this text was intended for Mme. Mirbel, who was then in the country, but to whom the person very clearly indicated by the final characteristic was about to pay a visit and could carry the message.) I then offer Hélène a pencil in the hope of obtaining this same text in writing; after various tergiversations and grimaces, denoting a state of increasing somnambulism, she finally takes the pencil between her index and middle fingers, tells Esenale that she still sees him and makes him sit down by her side, and then begins to write, completely absent and fascinated by the paper. The left index-finger (Leopold) informs us that it is Esenale himself who is writing by means of Hélène’s arm. Twice she interrupts herself in order to say to Esenale, “Oh! do not go yet, stay a little while longer!” She appears nervous and agitated, and often stops writing to stab her paper with her pencil or to make erasures or scribble on it (see Fig. 25); in the zé of the last line, she forgets the é (this did not prevent Esenale from pronouncing the word correctly at the time of its translation).

* 19. m[en] cé kié mache di triné sandiné téri
(Amie, je ne puis te parler longtemps comme
né êzi vraïni zou réch mirâ milé piri mirâ
est mon désir; plus tard, adieu adieu.)

Graphic, then Auditive. October 24, 1897 (there has never been any translation of this text, two words of which are still unknown).—Hélène first sees the table illumined by a green light in which some designs appear which she copies, and which give this text, except the two last letters of the first word, the place of which remains blank. Immediately after she hears Martian spoken, which she repeats. It is the same text; then she has a vision of Astané, Esenale, and a little girl whose name she hears as Niké; but this soon gives way to other non-Martian somnambulisms. (See Fig. 25.)

* 20. Siké évaï diviné zé niké crizi capri né amé
Siké, sois heureux! Le petit oiseau noir est venu
orié antéch é êzé carimi ni êzi érié é nié pavinée hed
frapper hier à ma fenêtre, et mon âme a été joyeuse; il
lé sadri dé zé véchir tiziné Matêmi misaïmé kâ lé
me chanta: tu le verras demain.—Matêmi, fleur qui me
amèz essaté Arvâ ti éziné udâniξξ amès tès uri amès
fais vivre, soleil de mes songes, viens ce soir, viens
sandiné ten ti si évaï divinée Romé va né Siké
longtemps près de moi; sois heureuse!—Romé où est Siké?—Là-bas,
atrizi ten té taméch épizi
près du “taméche” rose.

Auditive, then Graphic. November 28, 1897 (translated same seance).—Fragments of conversation heard during the vision of the Martian fête described on p. 185. Siké (a young man) and Matêmi (a young girl) form the first couple who pass by and walk off in the direction of a large bush with red flowers (taméche); then a second couple exchange the last words of the text while going to rejoin the first. After this vision, which she contemplated standing and described with much animation, Hélène seated herself and began to write the same Martian phrases. It is ascertained from Leopold that it was Astané who held her hand (in holding the pencil between the thumb and the index-finger—that is, after the manner of Leopold and not that of Hélène as she had held it in writing text No. 17). The writing being finished, Leopold directs that Hélène shall be made to seat herself on the couch for the scene of translation.

21. véchêsi têsée polluni avé métiche é vi ti
Voyons cette question, vieux homme; à toi de
bounié seïmiré ni triné
chercher, comprendre et parler.

Auditive. January 15, 1898 (translated February 13).—Fragment of conversation between two Martian personages seen in a waking vision.

22. astané cé amès é vi chée brimi messé téri
Astané, je viens à toi; ta sagesse grande comme
ché pocrimé lé...
ton savoir me...

Auditive. About January 25, 1898 (translated February 13).—Vision, at six o’clock in the morning, of a young Martian girl (Matêmi?) traversing a tunnel through a mountain and arriving at the house of Astané, to whom she addresses this utterance, followed by many others which Hélène could not grasp with sufficient distinctness to note them down.

23. [A] paniné évaï kirimé zé miza ami grini
Panine, sois prudent, le “miza” va soulever;
ké chée éméche rès pazé—[B] pouzé tès luné soumini
que ta main se retire!—Pouzé, ce jour riant...
arvâ ii cen zé primi ti ché chiré kiz pavi luné—
Arva si beau... le revoir de ton fils... quel heureux jour—
[C] saïné êzi chiré izé lineï kizé pavi êzi mané
Saïné, mon fils, enfin debout! quelle joie!... Mon père
ni êzé modé tiziné êzi chiré êzi mané cé êvé adi
et ma mère... Demain, mon fils... Mon père, je suis bien
anâ
maintenant.

Auditive. February 20, 1898 (translated same seance).—Very complicated Martian vision. First, three small, movable houses, like pavilions or Chinese kiosks, going about on little balls; in one of these, two unknown personages, one of whom puts her hand out of a small oval window, which occasions, on the part of her companion, the observation of the first sentence (A) of the text; at this instant, in fact, these rolling pavilions (miza) assume an oscillatory movement, which makes a noise like “tick-tack,” and then glide like a train upon rails. They go around a high red mountain and come into a sort of magnificent gorge or ravine, with slopes covered with extraordinary plants, and where they find white houses on an iron framework resembling piles. The two men then alight from their “miza,” chatting together, but Hélène can only hear fragments (B) of their conversation. A young man of sixteen to eighteen years of age comes to meet them, who has his head tied up in a kind of nightcap, and having no hair on the left side. Martian salutations are exchanged; they mutually strike their heads with their hands, etc. Hélène complains of hearing very confusedly that which they are saying, and can only repeat ends of sentences (C). She has pain in her heart, and Leopold dictates to me by the left index-finger, “Put her to sleep,” which presently leads to the customary scene of translation of the text.

24. saïné êzi chiré iée êzé pavi ché vinâ ine ruzzi
Saïné, mon fils, toute ma joie, ton retour au milieu
ti nini né mis mess assilé atimi... itéche...
de nous est un grand, immense bonheur... toujours...
furimir... nori
aimera... jamais.

Auditive. March 11, 1898 (translated August 21).—“Yesterday morning, on jumping out of bed,” wrote Hélène to me, when sending me this text, “I had a vision of Mars, almost the same as that which I had before (at the seance of February 20). I saw again the rolling pavilions, the houses on piling, several personages, among them a young man who had no hair on one side of his head. I was able to note some words. It was very confused, and the last words were caught on the wing, when here and there something a little clear came to me....”

25. dé véchi ké ti éfi mervé éni
Tu vois que de choses superbes ici.

Auditive. August 21, 1898 (translated same seance).—Waking vision of a river between two rose-colored mountains, with a bridge (like that in Fig. 9) which lowered itself into the water and disappeared in order to allow five or six boats to pass (like that in Fig. 13), then reappeared and was restored to its place. As Hélène describes all this, she hears a voice speaking to her the above Martian words of the text.

26. Astané né zé ten ti vi
Astané est là près de toi.

Visual. August 21, 1898 (translated same seance).—Following the preceding scene: Hélène perceives “in the air” (illumined and red—that of her Martian vision) some characters unknown to her, which she copies (see Fig. 26). I ask her, showing her the word zé (which elsewhere always stands for le), if she is not mistaken. She verifies it by comparing it with the imaginary model before her and affirms it to be correct.

27. siké kiz crizi hantiné hed é ébrinié rès amêré é
Siké, quel oiseau fidèle! il a pensé se réunir à
nini éssaté ti iche atimi matêmi hantiné hed né
nous, vivre de notre bonheur!—Matêmi fidèle, il est
hantiné êzi darié siké tès ousti ké zé badêni lassuné
fidèle mon cœur!—Siké, ce bateau que le vent approche
mazi trimazi hed é ti zi mazêté é poviné é nini zé priâni
avec force! il a de la peine à arriver à nous; le flot
é fouminé ivraïni idé é ti zi mazêté é vizêné zé
est puissant aujourd’hui; on a de la peine à distinguer le
chodé
“chodé.”

Auditive. About the 4th of September, 1898 (translated October 16).—Hélène heard and noted this phrase at the same time at which she had the vision of the two young Martian people who were walking in a kind of flower-garden, and saw a boat arrive, like that in Fig. 13. The meaning of chodé has not been ascertained.

*28. men mess Astané cé amès é vi itéch li tès
Ami grand Astané, je viens à toi toujours par cet
alizé néümi assilé kâ ianiné êzi atèv ni lé
élément mystérieux, immense, qui enveloppe mon étre et me
tazié é vi med iéeξ éziné rabriξ ni tibraξ. men amès di
lance à toi pour toutes mes pensées et besoins. Ami, viens te
ouradé ké Matêmi uzénir chée kida ni ké chée brizi pi
souvenir que Matêmi attendra ta faveur, et que ta sagesse lui
dézanir. évaï diviné tès luné
répondra. Sois heureux ce jour.

Visual. October 3, 1898 (translated October 16).—At a quarter before nine in the evening Mlle. Smith, desiring to obtain a communication from Leopold for herself and her mother, sat down in an easy-chair and gave herself up to meditation. Presently she hears the voice of Leopold telling her that he cannot manifest himself that evening, but that something much more interesting and important is being made ready. The room seems to her to become completely obscured, except the end of the table at which she is sitting, which is illumined with a golden light. A young Martian girl in a yellow robe and with long tresses then comes and seats herself beside her and begins to trace, without ink or paper, but with a point on the end of her index-finger, black figures on a white cylinder, at first placed on the table, afterwards on her knees, and which is unrolled as she writes. Hélène is near enough to see the characters clearly, and copies them in pencil on a sheet of paper (see Fig. 27), after which the vision vanishes and her mother and the room reappear.

29. sazêni kiché nipunêzé dodé né pit léziré bèz
Sazeni pourquoi craindre? Ceci est sans souffrance ni
neura évaï dastrée firêzi zé bodri né dorimé zé
danger, sois paisible; certainement le os est sain, le
pastri tubré né tuxé
sang seul est malade.

Auditive. October 14, 1898 (translated October 16).—Morning vision of an unknown gentleman and lady, the latter having her arm, spotted with red, applied to an instrument with three tubes placed on a shelf fastened to the wall. These words were spoken by the man; the lady said nothing.

30. modé ké hed oné chandêné têsé mûné ten ti
Mère, que ils sont délicieux ces moments près de
vi bigâ va bindié idé ti zâmé tensée zou réche
toi!—Enfant, où trouve on de meilleurs instants? plus tard
med ché atèv kiz fouminé zati
pour ton être quel puissant souvenir.

Auditive. October 22, 1898 (translated December 18).—“At a quarter-past six in the morning; vision of a pebbly shore; earth of a red tint; immense sheet of water, of a bluish green. Two women are walking side by side. This was all I could gather of their conversation.”

Graphic. October 27, 1898 (translated December 18).—“Ten minutes to one in the afternoon. No vision, but a severe cramp in the right arm and a strong impulse to take pencil and paper. I write, I know not why.” (It is seen by the translation given two months later that the text refers to the first manifestation of Ramié and is an announcement of the ultra-Martian vision which came a few days later.) See Fig. 28. The term vadazas, which has never been explained, has not a Martian appearance, and appears to have been borrowed from the Hindoo cycle. As to Espénié, see text No. 6.

32. anâ évaï maniké é bétiné mis tié attanâ
Maintenant sois attentive à regarder un des mondes
kâ di médinié bétinié tès tapié ni bée atèv kavivé
qui te entourent. Regarde ce “tapié” et ses êtres étranges.
danda anâ
Silence maintenant!

Auditive. November 2, 1898 (translated December 18).—Hélène has a morning vision of a Martian (Ramié) who encircles her waist with one arm and with the other shows her, while speaking these words, a strange tableau (tapié) containing extraordinary beings speaking the unknown language of the following text. At the moment the vision is effaced Hélène writes, without perceiving that she has done so, text No. 34. (For further details, see the following chapter on the Ultra-Martian.)

Auditive, as to the non-Martian text (see following chapter) which Hélène heard spoken on the 2d of November by the strange beings of the tableau of the preceding vision. Vocal, as to the Martian translation of this text, which was given by Astané (incarnated in Hélène and speaking the unknown language by her mouth, followed by its Martian equivalent for each word), in the seance of the 18th of December, 1898. Immediately after, Astané yielded his place to Esenale, who in turn repeated the Martian phrase, translating it word for word into French by the customary process.

té mûné ten ti vi. hed dassinié mis abadâ ti ché
du moment près de toi. Il garde un peu de ton
atèv ni di parêzié banâ mirâξ.—évaï divinée
être et te laisse trois adieux. Sois heureuse!

Graphic. November 2, 1898 (translated December 18).—Hélène only perceived after its accomplishment that her hand, which she felt “firmly held,” had written this text at the close of the preceding vision (see Fig. 29).

35. [A] attanâ zabiné pi ten té iche tarvini mabûré
Monde arriéré, très près du nôtre, langage grossier,
nubé téri zée atèv [B] Astané êzi dabé fouminé ni
curieux comme les êtres!—Astané, mon maître puissant et
ié ti takâ tubré né bibé ti zé umêzé
tout de pouvoir, seul est capable de le faire.

Auditive. December 5, 1898 (translated December 18).—Working by lamp-light at seven o’clock in the morning, Hélène again had a vision of the Martian (Ramié) who had clasped her waist with one arm while showing her something with a gesture of the other (probably the tableau of the preceding vision, though Hélène did not see it) and uttering the first phrase of it (A). The second phrase (B) is the reply of this same Martian to a mental question of Hélène asking him to translate the strange language of the other day. (She must, therefore, have understood the meaning of the first phrase in order to have replied to it by her appropriate mental question.)

Auditive. March 8, 1899 (translated June 4).—Hélène heard the phrase (A) during the vision of which the description follows. At the translation, as the sitters did not at once understand that the three first words are proper names, Esenale adds the phrase (B) with its French signification. “I was unable to go to sleep yesterday evening. At half-past eleven everything around me was suddenly lighted up, and the vivid light permitted me to distinguish surrounding objects. I arose this morning with a very clear remembrance of that which I then saw. A tableau was formed in that light, and I had more before me than the interior of a Martian house—an immense square hall, around which shelves were fastened, or rather little tables suspended and fastened to the wall. Each of these tables contained a baby, but not at all bundled up; all the movements of these little infants were free, and a simple linen cloth was thrown round the body. They might be said to be lying on yellow moss. I could not say with what the tables were covered. Some men with strange beasts were circulating round the hall; these beasts had large flat heads, almost without hair, and large, very soft eyes, like those of seals; their bodies, slightly hairy, resembled somewhat those of roes in our country, except for their large and flat tails; they had large udders, to which the men present fitted a square instrument with a tube, which was offered to each infant, who was thus fed with the milk of these beasts. I heard cries, a great hurly-burly, and it was with difficulty that I could note these few words [of this text]. This vision lasted about a quarter of an hour; then everything gradually disappeared, and in a minute after I was in a sound sleep.”

*37. Astané bounié zé buzi ti di triné nâmi ni
Astané cherche le moyen de te parler beaucoup et
ti di umêzé séïmiré bi tarvini
de te faire comprendre son langage.

Graphic. March 24, 1899 (translated June 4).—“Half-past six in the morning. Vision of Astané. I was standing, about to put on my slippers. He spoke to me, but I could not understand him. I took this sheet of paper and a pencil; he spoke to me no more, but seized my hand which held the pencil. I wrote under this pressure; I understood nothing, for this is as Hebrew to me. My hand was released; I raised my head to see Astané, but he had disappeared” (see Fig. 30).

*38. fédié amès Ramié di uzénir tès luné amès zé
Fédié, viens; Ramié te attendra ce jour; viens, le
boua trinir
frère parlera.

Visual. March 30, 1899 (translated June 4).—Seated at her toilet-table, at half-past nine o’clock in the evening, Hélène found herself suddenly enveloped in a rose-colored fog, which hid one part of the furniture from her, then was dissipated, allowing her to see, at the farther end of her room, “a strange hall, lighted with rose-colored globes fastened to the wall.” Nearer to her appeared a table suspended in the air, and a man in Martian costume, who wrote with a kind of nail fastened to his right index-finger. “I lean towards this man; I wish to place my left hand on this imaginary table, but my hand falls into empty space, and I have great difficulty in restoring it to its normal position. It was stiff, and for some moments felt very weak.” Happily the idea occurred to her to take pencil and paper and copy “the characters which the Martian, whom I had seen several times before [Ramié], traced; and with extreme difficulty—since they were much smaller than mine—I succeeded in reproducing them” (the Martian text of Fig. 31). All this lasted about a quarter of an hour. I went immediately to bed, and saw nothing more that evening, nor on the following day.

Graphic. April 1, 1899 (translated June 4).—“Again, on going to bed at five minutes past ten, a new vision of the personage seen day before yesterday [Ramié]. I thought he was about to speak, but no sound issued from his lips. I quickly take pencil and paper, and feel my right arm seized by him, and I begin to trace the strange handwriting attached hereto (see Fig. 32). He is very affectionate; his bearing, his look, everything breathes both goodness and strangeness. He leaves me really charmed.”

40. ramié ébanâ dizênâ zivênié ni bi vraïni
Ramié, lentement, profondément, étudie, et son désir
assilé né ten ti rès kalâmé astané êzi dabé né zi
immense est près de se accomplir. Astané mon maître est là
med lé godané ni ankôné évaï bané zizazi divinée
pour me aider et réjouir. Sois trois fois heureuse!

Auditive. June 4, 1899 (translated same seance).—Hemisomnambulism, in which Hélène, without having a vision, hears a voice addressing words to her, from which, with some difficulty, she collected the preceding sentences.

41. To these texts, forming sentences, in order to complete the whole, some isolated words must be added, gathered on various occasions, the meaning of which is obtained with sufficient certainty, either from the French context in which they were framed, or from Hélène’s description of the objects which they designated. These words are chèke, papier (“paper”); chinit, bague (“ring”); asnète, espèce de paravent (“kind of screen”). Anini Nikaîné, proper name of a little girl (see p. 176), probably the Martian sister of Esenale, who floats beside her, invisible to her, and watches over her during an illness, after the fashion of spirit protectors. Béniel, proper name of our earth, as seen from Mars (which is called Durée in texts 7 and 9).

III. Remarks on the Martian Language

Provided the reader has given some attention to the foregoing texts, if only to the two first, he undoubtedly will have been easily satisfied as to the pretended language of the planet Mars, and perhaps will be astonished that I have spent so much time upon it. But, as many of the habitués of the seances of Mlle. Smith—and, naturally, Mlle. Smith herself—hold seriously to its authenticity, I cannot absolve myself from stating why the “Martian” is, in my opinion, only an infantile travesty of French. Even in default of the astronomical importance which is claimed for it on the authority of Leopold, this idiom preserves all the psychological interest which attaches to automatic products of subconscious activities of the mind, and it well deserves some minutes of examination.

It is necessary at the start to render this justice to the Martian (I continue to designate it by that name, for the sake of convenience)—namely, that it is, indeed, a language and not a simple jargon or gibberish of vocal noises produced at the hazard of the moment without any stability. It cannot be denied the following characteristics—First: It is a harmony of clearly articulated sounds, grouped so as to form words. Secondly: These words when pronounced express definite ideas. Thirdly, and finally: Connection of the words with the ideas is continuous; or, to put it differently, the signification of the Martian terms is permanent and is maintained (apart from slight inconsistencies, to which I will return later on) from one end to the other of the texts which have been collected in the course of these three years.[21] I will add that in speaking fluently and somewhat quickly, as Hélène sometimes does in somnambulism (texts 4, 11, 15, etc.), it has an acoustic quality altogether its own, due to the predominance of certain sounds, and has a peculiar intonation difficult to describe. Just as one distinguishes by ear foreign languages which one does not understand, the whole dialect possessing a peculiar accent which causes it to be recognized, so in this case one perceives, from the first syllables uttered, whether Hélène is speaking Hindoo or Martian, according to the musical connection, the rhythm, the choice of consonants and vowels belonging to each of the two idioms. In this the Martian, indeed, bears the stamp of a natural language. It is not the result of a purely intellectual calculation, but influences of an æsthetic order, emotional factors, have combined in its creation and instinctively directed the choice of its assonances and favorite terminations. The Martian language has certainly not been fabricated in cold blood during the normal, habitual, French (so to speak) state of Mlle. Smith, but it bears in its characteristic tonalities the imprint of a peculiar emotional disposition, of a fixed humor or psychical Orientation, of a special condition of mind, which may be called, in one word, the Martian state of Hélène. The secondary personality, which takes pleasure in linguistic games, seems, indeed, to be the same, at its source, as that which delights in the exotic and highly colored visual images of the planet of red rocks, and which animates the personages of the Martian romance.

A glance at the ensemble of the foregoing texts shows that Martian, as compared with French, is characterized by a superabundance of é, ê, and i’s, and a scarcity of diphthongs and the nasal sounds. A more accurate statistical table of sounded vowels which strike the ear in reading aloud the Martian texts on the one hand, and their translation into French on the other, gives me the percentages of Table I., which follows. But it is well known that the vowels are distinguished, from the acoustic point of view, by certain fixed characteristic sounds, and that they are distributed at different heights in the musical scale.

Table I.—Statistics of Vowel Sounds

Table II.—Grouping from Point of View of Height