The little madcap of Bayonne.

— In our last issue we said a few words concerning this strange manifestation. Such information had been given to us by word of mouth and very succinctly by one of our subscribers, a friend of the family in whose home the events occurred. He had promised us more detailed particulars, and we owe to his courtesy the information he conveyed to us by letter.

This family resides near Bayonne and the letters were written by the very mother of the young girl, a child of some ten years, to a son who resides in Bordeaux, acquainting him with what was taking place in her home. The latter took the trouble of transcribing them for us, so that their authenticity would not be contested; it is an attention for which we are infinitely grateful to him. One understands the reserve with which we surround the names of the persons, a reserve which we make it a rule to observe, unless we are formally authorized to disclose them. Not everyone is concerned with attracting a crowd of the curious. To those for whom this reserve might constitute a ground for suspicion, we will say that it is necessary to draw a distinction between an eminently serious journal and those that aim only at amusing the public. Our purpose is not to relate cases in order to fill the pages of the Review, but to enlighten Science; if we were mistaken, we would be so in good faith. When, in our eyes, a thing is not formally demonstrated, we give it only as a matter of record; the same does not occur when it emanates from serious persons, whose honorableness is known and who, far from having any interest in leading us into error, also wish to instruct themselves. The first letter is from the son to our subscriber, sending along his mother's letters.

Saint-Esprit, November 20, 1858.

My dear friend, Having been called to the family on account of the death of one of my younger brothers, whom God has just taken, this circumstance, keeping me away from my home for some time, is the reason for the delay in giving you my reply. I would be very distressed if I caused you to pass for a teller of tales before Mr. Allan Kardec; therefore, I am going to give some summary details of the events that occurred in my family. I think I have already told you that the apparitions ceased a long time ago and no longer manifest themselves to my sister. Here are the letters my mother wrote to me on this subject. I must observe that many facts have been omitted, and they are not the least interesting. I will write again to complete the account, in case you cannot do so, recalling to you what I told you by word of mouth.

— April 23, 1855.

One afternoon, about three months ago, your sister X had need to go out to make a purchase. As you well know, the corridor of the house is rather long and is never lit; but the old habit of going through it without a light means that we never stumble on the steps of the stairs. X had already told us that each time she went out she heard a voice telling her things whose meaning, at first, she did not understand, but which became intelligible later. Some time afterward she saw a shadow, never ceasing, during the way, to hear the same voice. The words uttered by this invisible being always tended to reassure her and to give her counsel of much wisdom. A sound morality formed the basis of these words. X became very troubled and, several times, did not have the strength to continue on her way. “My daughter,” the invisible one said to her each time she became troubled, “fear nothing, for I want only your good.” He showed her a place where, for several days, she found some coins; at other times she found nothing. X complied with the recommendation that had been given to her and, for a long time, found, if not coins, some toys that you will soon see. Surely these gifts were made to her in order to encourage her. You were not forgotten in the conversation of this being; many times he spoke of you and gave us news of you through your sister. Several times he acquainted us with what you did in the evening; he saw you reading in your room; at other times he told us that your friends were gathered at your home. In short, he always reassured us when laziness prevented you from writing to us. For some time now X has maintained almost continuous relations with the invisible one; during the day she sees nothing; she always hears the same voice, which addresses words of great good sense to her, encouraging her to work and to the love of God. At night she sees, in the direction from which the voice comes, a rosy light that does not illuminate, but which, as she thinks, may be compared to the gleam of a diamond in the dark. Now all the fear she felt has disappeared. If I express my doubts to her, she says to me: “Mama, it is an angel who speaks to me, and if, in order to convince yourself, you arm yourself with courage, he asks me to tell you that, this night, he will make you rise. If he speaks to you, you must answer. Go where he sends you; you will see people before you; but have no fear at all.” I did not wish to put my courage to the test: I was afraid, and the impression this caused me prevented me from sleeping. Often, at night, it seemed to me that I heard a breath at the head of the bed. The chairs moved without any hand touching them. After some time my fears disappeared completely and I greatly regretted not having submitted to the test that had been proposed to me, of establishing direct relations with the invisible one, and also for not having struggled incessantly against my doubts.

— I urged X to question the invisible one about his nature. Here is the conversation they had between them:

X – Who are you?

Invisible – I am your brother Elisha.

X – My brother died twelve years ago.

Invisible – It is true; your brother died twelve years ago, but, as in all beings, there was in him a soul that does not die and that is now in your presence, that loves you and protects you all.

X – I would like to see you.

Invisible – I am before you.

X – Yet I see nothing.

Invisible – I will take a form visible to you. After the religious service you will go down; you will see me then, and I will embrace you.

X – Mama too would like to know you.

Invisible – Your mother is mine; she knows me. I would have preferred to manifest myself to her, and not to you: it was my duty; but I cannot show myself to several persons, for God forbids me. I am sorry that mama did not have the courage. I promise to give you proofs of my existence and then all the doubts will disappear.

— At night, at the appointed hour, X went to the door of the temple. A young man presented himself to her and said: “I am your brother. You asked to see me. Are you satisfied? Embrace me at once, because I cannot keep for long the form I have taken.”

As you may well imagine, the presence of this being ought to have astonished X to the point of preventing her from making any observation. As soon as she embraced him, he disappeared into the air.

On the morning of the following day, taking advantage of the occasion when X was obliged to go out, the invisible one manifested himself again and said to her: “You must have been quite surprised by my disappearance. Well then! I am going to teach you to rise into the air, so that you may be able to accompany me.” Had it been another person, X would have been terrified by the proposal. She, however, accepted the offer eagerly and soon felt herself rise like a swallow. She arrived quickly at a place where there was a considerable crowd. As she told us, she saw gold, diamonds, and everything that, on Earth, would satisfy our imagination. No one regarded these things any more than we regard the stones of the pavements on which we walk. She recognized several girls of her age who had lived on our street and who had died a long time ago. In an apartment richly decorated, where there was no one, what especially drew her attention was a great table on which, at intervals, there was a sheet of paper. Before each notebook there was an inkwell; she saw the pens dip themselves and trace characters without any hand moving them. Upon returning, I reproached her for having absented herself without my authorization and expressly forbade her to begin such excursions again. The invisible one gave her proofs of much regret at having displeased me and formally promised her that, henceforth, he would no longer take her away without my being forewarned.

— April 26.

The invisible one transfigured himself before the eyes of X. He took your form so well that your sister believed you were in the parlor. To make sure, she asked him to resume his original form; as soon as you disappeared you were replaced by me. Great was her astonishment; she asked me how I came to be there, the door being locked. Then a new transformation occurred: he took on the appearance of the dead brother and said to X: “Your mother and all the members of the family do not see without astonishment, and even without a feeling of fear, all the facts that have been accomplished through my intervention. I absolutely do not wish to cause terror; I wish, however, to prove my existence and to shelter you from the incredulity of everyone, for they might take as a lie of yours what would, on their part, be an obstinacy in not yielding to the evidence. Mrs. C. works in a haberdashery shop; you know that buttons must be bought; let us all go and buy them. I will transform myself into your little brother” – he was then twelve years old – “and, when you return home, you will ask mama to send and inquire of Mrs. C. with whom you were at the moment when the buttons were sold to you.” X did not fail to observe these instructions. I sent to inquire of Mrs. C. and she answered me that your sister was with your brother, of whom she made great praise, saying that, at his age, one could not imagine that he would have such ready answers and, above all, so little timidity. It is well to say that the little one had been at school since morning and was only to return at seven o'clock in the evening, and that, moreover, he is very timid and does not have that ease that they wish to attribute to him. Is it not curious enough? I believe that the hand of God is not entirely foreign to these inexplicable things.

— May 7, 1855.

I am no more credulous than one ought to be and I do not let myself be dominated by superstitious ideas. Nevertheless, I cannot refuse to believe in facts that have been accomplished before my eyes. I needed proofs quite evident in order not to inflict on your sister the punishments that I sometimes found myself obliged to give her, fearing that she wished to play games with us and to abuse our confidence.

Yesterday, it was about five o'clock when the invisible one said to X: “It is probable that mama will send you somewhere, in order to deliver a message. On the way you will be agreeably surprised by the arrival of your uncle's family.” Immediately X conveyed to me what the invisible one had said to her; I was far from expecting these relatives and more surprised still to learn of it in this manner. Your sister went out and the first persons she met were indeed my brother, his wife, and his children, who were coming to visit us. X hastened to say that I had one more proof of the truthfulness of all that she told me.

— May 10, 1855.

Today I can no longer doubt that something extraordinary is happening in the house; I see without fear all these singular facts being accomplished, but I cannot draw from them any teaching because, for me, these mysteries are inexplicable.

Yesterday, after having put the house in order – and you know that I am particular about these things – the invisible one said to X that, despite the proofs he had given of his intervention in all the curious facts I have related to you, I still had doubts, which he wished to make disappear completely. Without any noise having been heard, a minute was sufficient to put the rooms into complete disorder. On the floor a reddish substance had been spilled; I believe it was blood. Had it been only a few drops, I would have thought that X had cut herself or had a nosebleed; but imagine that the floor was flooded. This bizarre proof gave us considerable trouble to make the floor of the parlor regain its original luster. Before opening the letters you send us, X knows the contents. The invisible one conveys it to her.

— May 16, 1855.

X did not accept an observation made to her by her sister, I do not know about what. She gave an unbecoming reply and received her due in return. I punished her and she went to bed without having dined. As is customary, before going to bed she says a prayer. That night she forgot it, but, a few moments after lying down, the invisible one appeared to her and presented to her a candlestick and a prayer book similar to the one she was accustomed to use, telling her that, despite the punishment she had well deserved, she ought not to forget to fulfill her duty. Then she rose, did what was ordered of her and, as soon as the prayer was finished, everything disappeared. On the morning of the following day, after having embraced me, X asked me whether the candlestick that was on the table on a floor above her room had been removed. Now, this candlestick, similar to the one that had been presented to her the evening before, had not changed place, just as her prayer book had not.

June 4, 1855.

For some time no fact has drawn attention, except the following. I had a cold these last days. The day before yesterday your sisters were occupied and I had no one to send to buy a pectoral salve. I told X that when she had finished her task she should go and fetch something at the nearest pharmacy. She forgot my recommendation and I myself thought no more of it. I am certain that she did not go out, nor leave her work except to go and fetch a tureen that we needed. Great was her surprise upon removing the lid and finding a packet of barley lozenges that the invisible one had brought and deposited there, in order to spare me a walk and, also, to satisfy my wish, which had been forgotten.

— We evoked this Spirit in one of the sessions of the Society and addressed to it the questions that follow. Mr. Adrien saw it under the aspect of a boy of ten to twelve years: a fine head, black and wavy hair, black and lively eyes, pale complexion, a mocking mouth, a frivolous but kindly character. The Spirit said it did not know very well why it was being evoked.

Our correspondent, who was present at the meeting, said that these were exactly the features by which the young girl had described it on several occasions.

We have heard the story of your manifestations told in a family of Bayonne and we would like to ask you a few questions.

Answer. – Ask them and I will answer. But be quick, for I am in a hurry and want to go away.

Where did you get the money you gave the girl?

Answer. – I took it from the purse of others. You well understand that I was not going to amuse myself minting coins. I take from those who can give.

Why did you attach yourself to that little girl?

Answer. – Great sympathy.

Is it true that you were her brother, who died at four years of age?

Answer. – Yes.

Why were you visible to her and not to her mother?

Answer. – My mother must be deprived of seeing me, but my sister had no need of punishment. Besides, it was by special permission that I appeared to her.

Could you explain how you make yourself visible or invisible at will?

Answer. – I am not elevated enough and I am too preoccupied with what attracts me to answer that question.

If you wished, could you appear in our midst, just as you showed yourself to the haberdashery saleswoman?

Answer. – No.

In that state, would you be sensible to pain, if you were struck?

Answer. – No.

What would have happened if the saleswoman had struck you?

Answer. – She would have encountered nothing but the void.

Under what name may we call you when we speak of you?

Answer. – Call me the little madcap, if you wish. Leave me, I must go away.

(To Saint Louis): Would it be useful for us to have a Spirit like that at our orders?

Answer. – You have them frequently near you, assisting you without your suspecting it.

CONSIDERATIONS ON THE LITTLE MADCAP OF BAYONNE.

If we compare these facts with those of Bergzabern, of which our readers have certainly not lost the memory, we will see a capital difference. The one of Bergzabern was more than a rapping Spirit; it was, and still is to this day, a disturbing Spirit in every sense of the term. Without doing harm, it is a most inconvenient and most disagreeable guest, of which we will speak in our next issue, in view of its new and recent exploits. The one of Bayonne, on the contrary, is eminently benevolent and courteous; it is the type of those good helpful Spirits whose deeds are recounted to us in the German legends, a new proof that in legendary stories there may be a basis of truth. Let us admit, moreover, that the imagination would have little to do to place these facts within the scope of a legend, which might be taken for a story of the Middle Ages, were they not happening, so to speak, before our very eyes. One of the most salient traits of the Spirit to whom we have given the name of the little madcap of Bayonne is his transformations. What will be said now of the fable of Proteus? Between the Spirits of Bayonne and of Bergzabern there is also the difference that the latter showed itself only in dreams, whereas our little goblin became visible and tangible as though he were a real person, not only to his sister, but also to strangers: witness the purchase of the buttons at the haberdashery shop. Why did he not show himself to everyone and at any hour? That is what we do not know; it seems that he did not have this power and could not even remain for a long time in such a state. Perhaps he needed, for this, an inner labor, a power of will above his strength. New details have been promised to us concerning these strange phenomena; we will return to them at an opportune moment. [see The agénères.]