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me； when； in Cell One of Solitary in San Quentin； I stared myself
unconscious by means of a particle of bright； light…radiating straw。
How did these things come to me？ Surely I could not have
manufactured them out of nothing inside my pent walls any more than
could I have manufactured out of nothing the thirty…five pounds of
dynamite so ruthlessly demanded of me by Captain Jamie； Warden
Atherton； and the Prison Board of Directors。
I am Darrell Standing； born and raised on a quarter section of land
in Minnesota； erstwhile professor of agronomy； a prisoner
incorrigible in San Quentin； and at present a death…sentenced man in
Folsom。 I do not know； of Darrell Standing's experience； these
things of which I write and which I have dug from out my store…
houses of subconsciousness。 I； Darrell Standing； born in Minnesota
and soon to die by the rope in California； surely never loved
daughters of kings in the courts of kings； nor fought cutlass to
cutlass on the swaying decks of ships； nor drowned in the spirit…
rooms of ships； guzzling raw liquor to the wassail…shouting and
death…singing of seamen； while the ship lifted and crashed on the
black…toothed rocks and the water bubbled overhead； beneath； and all
about。
Such things are not of Darrell Standing's experience in the world。
Yet I； Darrell Standing； found these things within myself in
solitary in San Quentin by means of mechanical self…hypnosis。 No
more were these experiences Darrell Standing's than was the word
〃Samaria〃 Darrell Standing's when it leapt to his child lips at
sight of a photograph。
One cannot make anything out of nothing。 In solitary I could not so
make thirty…five pounds of dynamite。 Nor in solitary； out of
nothing in Darrell Standing's experience； could I make these wide；
far visions of time and space。 These things were in the content of
my mind； and in my mind I was just beginning to learn my way about。
CHAPTER VII
So here was my predicament： I knew that within myself was a
Golconda of memories of other lives； yet I was unable to do more
than flit like a madman through those memories。 I had my Golconda
but could not mine it。
I remembered the case of Stainton Moses； the clergyman who had been
possessed by the personalities of St。 Hippolytus； Plotinus；
Athenodorus； and of that friend of Erasmus named Grocyn。 And when I
considered the experiments of Colonel de Rochas； which I had read in
tyro fashion in other and busier days； I was convinced that Stainton
Moses had； in previous lives； been those personalities that on
occasion seemed to possess him。 In truth； they were he； they were
the links of the chain of recurrence。
But more especially did I dwell upon the experiments of Colonel de
Rochas。 By means of suitable hypnotic subjects he claimed that he
had penetrated backwards through time to the ancestors of his
subjects。 Thus； the case of Josephine which he describes。 She was
eighteen years old and she lived at Voiron； in the department of the
Isere。 Under hypnotism Colonel de Rochas sent her adventuring back
through her adolescence； her girlhood； her childhood； breast…
infancy； and the silent dark of her mother's womb； and； still back；
through the silence and the dark of the time when she； Josephine；
was not yet born； to the light and life of a previous living； when
she had been a churlish； suspicious； and embittered old man； by name
Jean…Claude Bourdon； who had served his time in the Seventh
Artillery at Besancon； and who died at the age of seventy； long
bedridden。 YES； and did not Colonel de Rochas in turn hypnotize
this shade of Jean…Claude Bourdon； so that he adventured farther
back into time； through infancy and birth and the dark of the
unborn； until he found again light and life when； as a wicked old
woman； he had been Philomene Carteron？
But try as I would with my bright bit of straw in the oozement of
light into solitary； I failed to achieve any such definiteness of
previous personality。 I became convinced； through the failure of my
experiments； that only through death could I clearly and coherently
resurrect the memories of my previous selves。
But the tides of life ran strong in me。 I； Darrell Standing； was so
strongly disinclined to die that I refused to let Warden Atherton
and Captain Jamie kill me。 I was always so innately urged to live
that sometimes I think that is why I am still here； eating and
sleeping； thinking and dreaming； writing this narrative of my
various me's； and awaiting the incontestable rope that will put an
ephemeral period in my long…linked existence。
And then came death in life。 I learned the trick； Ed Morrell taught
it me； as you shall see。 It began through Warden Atherton and
Captain Jamie。 They must have experienced a recrudescence of panic
at thought of the dynamite they believed hidden。 They came to me in
my dark cell； and they told me plainly that they would jacket me to
death if I did not confess where the dynamite was hidden。 And they
assured me that they would do it officially without any hurt to
their own official skins。 My death would appear on the prison
register as due to natural causes。
Oh； dear； cotton…wool citizen； please believe me when I tell you
that men are killed in prisons to…day as they have always been
killed since the first prisons were built by men。
I well knew the terror； the agony； and the danger of the jacket。
Oh； the men spirit…broken by the jacket！ I have seen them。 And I
have seen men crippled for life by the jacket。 I have seen men；
strong men； men so strong that their physical stamina resisted all
attacks of prison tuberculosis； after a prolonged bout with the
jacket； their resistance broken down； fade away； and die of
tuberculosis within six months。 There was Slant…Eyed Wilson； with
an unguessed weak heart of fear； who died in the jacket within the
first hour while the unconvinced inefficient of a prison doctor
looked on and smiled。 And I have seen a man confess； after half an
hour in the jacket； truths and fictions that cost him years of
credits。
I had had my own experiences。 At the present moment half a thousand
scars mark my body。 They go to the scaffold with me。 Did I live a
hundred years to come those same scars in the end would go to the
grave with me。
Perhaps； dear citizen who permits and pays his hang…dogs to lace the
jacket for youperhaps you are unacquainted with the jacket。 Let
me describe； it； so that you will understand the method by which I
achieved death in life； became a temporary master of time and space；
and vaulted the prison walls to rove among the stars。
Have you ever seen canvas tarpaulins or rubber blankets with brass
eyelets set in along the edges？ Then imagine a piece of stout
canvas； some four and one…half feet in length； with large and heavy
brass eyelets running down both edges。 The width of this canvas is
never the full girth of the huma