The Search for Bridey Murphy (19 page)

“A two-year-old kid in Massachusetts,” he continued, “could read and write. By the time he was four he could speak four languages, and a few years later he could tackle any kind of geometry problem. And some time ago the
Readers Digest
ran an article about Blind Tom, the Negro slave, who played his master’s piano brilliantly the first time he ever put his hands on it.

“How,” he asked, “can a mind that’s only a few years old write sonatas, solve complicated mathematical problems, and play championship chess? There must be some other factor, something we don’t see.”

I had often wondered about the same thing myself. I had observed, moreover, that in almost all these cases there had been no apparent hereditary justification for these transcendent capacities. Then, too, those fields in which the prodigies exhibited their proficiency were old
ones
—music, mathematics, chess, languages.

Before the Macintoshes left that night, Sam helped me to draft some questions for the second session—that is, if I could ever catch and hold my subject long enough for another session. In making up the questions we kept in mind that it would be asking too much to expect that she would remember historical and political details.

Memory is, after all, vitally concerned with association. And association is indissolubly linked with emotion and interest. You may have no difficulty, for instance, in recalling the scene of your graduation from high school even though it may have taken place more than twenty years ago. If asked, though, who was the governor of your state at the time of your graduation, you will likely draw a blank. Even though the same amount of time has elapsed in both cases, and you were probably reading the governor’s name
in the newspaper almost daily, your mind registered one event and apparently dropped the other.

I was once asked whether the numeral six on my wrist watch was an Arabic or a Roman numeral. Without referring to my watch, even though I look at it several times each day, I could not remember which type of number it bore. Later, looking at my watch, I was embarrassed to notice that, as is the rule with most watches, it had no number six; the second hand took its place.

So memory is primarily dependent upon neither frequency of observation nor the passage of time. Rather, the essence of memory is
interest
, of which a fundamental element is
emotion
. In short, the greater the emotional impact of an event the sharper the memory of it.

The same thing is true, I have found, in my hypnotic experiments. While hypnosis enormously extends the memory, it does not perform the magic of conjuring images which held no emotional content for the subject. Hypnosis lifts a curtain and permits the “eye” of the mind to penetrate to depths which are ordinarily inaccessible to the conscious mind. But even at this “distance” the mind (under hypnosis) will still remember in vivid detail only those incidents which were charged with at least some degree of emotion; it still tends to “forget” events which held no interest.

Careful not to expect the impossible from “Bridey Murphy’s” memory, therefore we made out a list of questions. Not a long list. Since “Bridey” had been somewhat exhausted after the long first session, I knew that the second session must be somewhat shorter. And owing to my belief that an ordinary present-life age regression was the right sort of “warm-up” for a past-life regression, not too much time remained for the quiz period.

I now realized, moreover, that, in addition to limiting the length of the session, there was something more I could do in order to bring “Bridey” out of her trance in a less fatigued state. I could simply use the post-hypnotic suggestions that she would, after she awakened, feel “even better than before she went to sleep,” “completely relaxed,” “comfortable and rested.” It might even be a good idea, I thought, to give her a five-minute rest period before awakening her, suggesting that the five-minute sleep would be equivalent to one full hour of deep slumber.

As I had anticipated, pinning down the Simmonses long enough to make tape number two was no cinch. But at last, a week before
Christmas, Rex called me. He and Ruth were having guests that night, he told me, but if I wanted to bring my recorder over to their house and make another tape some time during the evening I could come ahead.

I went.

On December 18, 1952, at 9:30 P.M., after having impatiently plodded through an hour of social functioning, I got the second session under way in the presence of witnesses. The hypnosis and the simple age regression went smoothly. After that a transcription of the tape reads as follows:

TAPE II

And now you’re going to go on farther back, you’re going to slip back, back, back. Surprising as it may seem, you’ll find that you can go on farther back. You’ll find that you can go on farther back—back—back. Your memory will go on back—backback. And your memory will find yourself; you will find a scene in which you were included, perhaps in some other lifetime, some other age, some other time, some other place. You will pick up that scene which includes you; you will see that scene clearly. I will talk to you again in just a few moments, and when I talk to you again, some scene in which you took place will have popped into your mind. You will see it clearly, and you will be able to tell me about it. Now, now, what scene is in your mind? Tell me about it.

Going to go on a trip.

Going to go on a trip?

Uh-huh.

Where?

To Antrim.

To where?

Antrim.

Antrim?

Uh-huh.

Where’s that?

It’s at the seashore.

That’s at the seashore?

Uh-huh. There are cliffs… V… white, bright cliffs… and there’s a red stone… black ones… from the glens… and other…

And with whom are you going on this trip?

With my mother… my father.

And what’s your mother’s name?

Kathleen.

What is your father’s name?

Duncan.

And how old are you?

I’m ten.

And you’re going on a trip?

Uh-huh.

A trip to Antrim?

Antrim.

Uh-huh, and it’s by the seashore?

Yes.

Just the three of you are going?

Oh, my brother too.

Which brother?

Why, Duncan—my brother Duncan.

I see.

Uh-huh.

All right, now, tell me about Antrim. Tell me about it. Describe it—what’s it like?

It’s a seashore town. There’s cliffs there. The water runs, the streams run down real fast and they make… little rivulets in the ground to get to the sea… and there’s cliffs… and the cliffs are real white… ’n’ Father says sandstone ballast, black ballast… just… from the Glens of Antrim.

Where is your other brother?

My other brother—little brother… he’s dead.

He’s dead?

Yes.

How old was he when he died?

Oh, he was a baby… just a little baby… I don’t know….

From what did he die?

He was… sick of… I don’t know what was wrong with him. He died… when he was just a little…

What disease did he have?

He… I don’t know… I don’t know.

All right. What is your name?

Bridey.

Bridey what?

Bridey Murphy.

Are you sure that that is your name, or do you really have some other name?

I was named after my grandmother.

You were named after your grandmother?

Uh-huh.

What was her name?

Bridget.

All right. Now tell me what town you live in.

I live in Cork.

In Cork. Now tell me whether Cork is north or south of Belfast

’Tis south of Belfast.

South of Belfast?

Uh-huh.

About what is the distance between Cork and Belfast?

Uh… uh… it’s in a different province. Uh… Belfast is… no… Belfast is… uh—uh… in a different province. … I don’t know how far away it is.

Can you tell me, can you tell me as you go from Cork to Belfast—can you tell me any of the names of the towns, the names of any towns or villages that you pass or go through?

You go through Carlingford… Carlingford.

All right.

… There’s a… there’s… Carlingford is a lake too… a lough… Carlingford, in Carlingford.

All right.

There’s a lough… a lough… a lake… uh… see…

All right. Is there anyplace else that you can tell us besides Carlingford and that other place that you go through or go by on your way from Cork to Belfast… on your way from Cork to Belfast, what other place?

… You go through the Glens of Antrim to go up North….

All right. Now can you give us the names of any rivers in Ireland? Any rivers in Ireland?

There’s Lough Carlingford and Lough Foyle are two… two…. Don’t say “river,” say “lough.”

Oh, I see, “lough” is the word for river?

Uh-huh.

I see, lough. All right. Give us the name of some mountain in Ireland.

… Mountain… there’s a famous one…. What is it?… Oh… I can’t remember the name, but it’s very famous.

Very famous mountain?

Oh, very famous. It has a lot of—Ireland has lots of hills, I don’t remember, but there’s one very famous one….

Well, tell us the name of a well-known lake.

Foyle… Foyle is a lake… a lough… I

A lough?

Yes, lough.

Is a “lough” a river or a lake?

Don’t say “river.”

Don’t say “river”? all right, lough. Now what is the name of that famous mountain?

… Uh… I can’t remember….

Can’t seem to remember the name of the mountain?

No, I know, but I can’t remember.

You know it, but you can’t remember it. All right, perhaps you’ll think of it later. What does your father do?

My father is a barrister.

What does a barrister do?

He practices… legal… business.

All right, practices legal business. All right. When did you first meet Brian? Can you tell us about how old you were when you first met Brian?… I was seventeen.

Did you meet him in Cork or Belfast?

I met him in Cork.

All right. How did he happen to be at Cork?

His father is a barrister too… and his father and he came to our house.

Brian came to your house?

Uh-huh.

When you were seventeen?

Uh-huh.

What school were you going to when you were seventeen?

I was going to a day school. What was the name of the day school?

… Mrs…. Mrs…. uh…

What was the name of the day school? Mrs. what?.

. Uh… uh… uh…

Did you go to any other schools before you went to that day school?

No… I went there all the time, and when I got bigger I stayed there.

You lived right there?

Uh… for the week time.

And then you went home for the weekend?

Yes.

Did you like Brian when you first met him?

No.

How old was Brian?

Oh… he was nineteen.

He was two years older than you?

Uh-huh.

I see. But you didn’t like him when you first met him?

Oh, he was all right. He wasn’t anything.

Well, how did you get engaged to him?

He came back in the summer and worked in his father’s office, and I just… went with him…. ’Twas just taken for granted, I think.

I see. Did you like anybody else before you met Brian?

… Uh… no.

All right. What was the name of Brian’s father?

Brian’s… he… he was John.

John what?

MacCarthy.

All right, you had two friends by the name of Mary Catherine and Kevin.

Yes. Where did they live?

In Belfast.

What was their last name?

… Uh… Mary Catherine and Kevin… 
Moore
…. All right, Mary Catherine Moore, Kevin Moore, is that right?

Yes.

All right, all right. Now tell us about your death. Do you remember your death?

Yes, I… remember… I just… I just went to sleep… I just went off… on a Sunday… it was a Sunday.

It was a Sunday?

Uh-huh.

Uh-huh. About what time of the day was it?

It was while Brian was at church.

While Brian was at church. How old were you?

I was sixty-six.

All right. Can you tell me, can you tell me what are the three essential elements of the Mass in the Catholic Church? What are the three essential elements of the Mass? Can you remember that?

No.