The Washington times., 1920-09-12

@NE Of the most curious manifesto
tions OF the obscure and battling
possibilities Of the human mind re-
GENTLY to come to the attention Of psyche
logical science is that of twelve-year old
Juanita Clivette, OF Greenwich Village,
New York City. Seven years ago, when
she was only five, this little g{fl, the daugh.
ter Of Mr.. and Mrs. Merton Clivette-the
father lecturer and her mother a grad.
uate physician-calmly announced to the
latter that she was her daughter in body
only, but that the consciousness which in
habited that body was that of Sappho the
ill-fated Grecian poetess of $500 years ago.
! Since that time the child has persisted
in her attitude, has given what she claims
to be details of her previous life, and has
written a number of truly extraordinary
poems. In all other ways she is a normal,
happy. lovable little girl. She has been
the subject of quiet study by scholars Of
the fragments of Sapphic writings that
have come down from that remote age
and by students of that same civilization.
These profess themselves amazed at the
nation contained therein, whose method
of requirement blythe child frankly puzzles
them
Psychological science, ne-fess interested,
believes the case to be a form Of dissoci-
ated personality, Of which the classic ex-
ample is the "Case Of Miss Beauchamp"
studied by the distinguished alienist DR..
Morton Prince, whose findings threw new
and astonishing light upon the obscure and
powerful possibilities of the human mind.
In the case of Miss Beauchamp" there
were four alternating personalities or
states Of consciousness, each of which at
various times was the dominant mental
force in the body Of Miss Beauchamp."
It was the task of science to merge the
best Of them into one complete conscious
ness, which then became the normal per-
sonality Of the subject. How this was
done, those interested can read in the mar
rative of the case published by DR.. Prince.
Mrs. Clivette is a woman Of extremely
healthy mentality and before her marriage
practiced medicine. She is the daughter
of prominent New York physician and
was a classmate Of Florence Pullman, now
the wife Of Governor Lowden, Of Illinois.
Her upbringing of her little daughter has
been pursued along the everyday lines.
The child had heard fairy stories and could
only read within the limited scope Of the
average fveyear-old.
Imagine, then, how felt" says Mrs.
Clivette, when Just after her fifth birth
day Juanita came to me and said, Mamma.
who was Sappho?'
81 corrected her, thinking that she was
trying to speak the name Of a then widely
advertised cleansing powder whose name
she had doubtless heard or seen.
"'No,' insisted the baby; I mean a
M I namp-hut
not who she was. Why did you and father
name me Juanita? I should have been
called Sappho-for that is who I really
am"
The mother laughed and teased her little
one. The child said nothing until her
father returned, and then reopened the
subject.
81 remember another name now-Phaon,"
she said. 81 know that I loved him and
think that killed myself because he did
not love me-"
This curious utterance coming from the
lips OF almost a baby brought no laughter.
The parents questioned her Had she read
anything Of Sappho? Had anyone spoken
to her of the story? She shook her head.
No, 1t had just come to her, she told them.
She remembered the names and there
were others that were forming In her mind.
And, baby as she was, they tried to rea.
son with her.
"Sappho was a Grecian," they told her.
"If you are Sappho, why do you not speak
to us in Greek?"
The child seemed puzzled.
81 speak what | think" she said ut
comes to me and say it. What is Creek"
For some months little Juanita did not
return to the subject, and the mother.
though still mystied and not little wor-
ried, believed that she had forgotten 1t.
But one day she found Juanta writing
she was then a little over six. And this
is what she read
Silently the stars are shining,
Shining in the still moonlight.
Softly the wind is singing,
Singing through the night.
Chanting a wild, weird song Of love,
The trees are swinging now.
The sea is deep and fearful,
In IS depths | see
see the drowned clay body
That once belonged to me.