Spiritism in England.

— At first Spiritism encountered in England an opposition at which, with reason, we were astonished. Not that it had not found isolated supporters, as everywhere, but there its progress was infinitely less rapid than in France. Could it be that the English, as some claim, are colder, more positive, less enthusiastic than we are, and let themselves be carried away less by the imagination? That they are less inclined to the marvelous? If that were so, it would be all the more astonishing that Spiritism should have had its principal center in the United States, where the positivism of material interests reigns as absolute sovereign. Would it not have been more rational that it should have arisen in Germany, or in Russia, which in this respect seems to take the lead, as the classic land of legends? The opposition encountered by Spiritism in England has nothing to do with the national character, but with the influence of the religious ideas of certain preponderant sects, rigorously attached more to the letter than to the spirit of their dogmas. They grew alarmed at a doctrine which, at first sight, appeared to them contrary to their beliefs. But it could not be so for long among a people given to reflection, enlightened, where free examination meets no hindrance and where the right of assembly for discussion is absolute. Faced with the evidence of the facts, they had to yield. Now, it was precisely because the English judged them coldly and without enthusiasm that they appreciated them and understood their full scope. When, after having observed seriously, this capital truth arose for them, that Spiritist ideas have their source in Christian ideas, that, far from contradicting one another, they corroborate, confirm, and explain one another, full satisfaction was given to the religious scruple. The conscience being reassured, nothing more opposed the progress of the new ideas, which spread in that country with surprising speed. Now, there, as elsewhere, it is still in the enlightened part of the population that one finds their most numerous and most zealous supporters, a peremptory argument to which nothing has been opposed. The mediums multiply; numerous centers are established, to which members of the high clergy associate themselves, openly proclaiming their convictions. The adversaries will say that the fever of the marvelous has triumphed over English phlegm. Be that as it may, there is one notorious fact: their ranks become enlightened daily, in spite of their sarcasms. The development of Spiritist ideas in England could not fail to give rise to specialized publications. They now have a very interesting monthly organ, which has been published in London since the 1st of May last, under the title of The Spiritual Magazine, from which we extract the following account:

A TALKING SPIRIT.

Being in Worcester, a few weeks ago, at the house of a banker of the city, I chanced to meet a lady, with whose daughter I struck up an acquaintance, hearing, from her own lips, a story so surprising that I needed more than one witness to give it credence. When I questioned our host about that lady, he told me that he had known her for more than thirty years. “She is so truthful,” he added, “her exactness is so well known to all, that I have not the slightest doubt as to the reality of what she recounted. She is a lady of unblemished reputation, of irreproachable habits, of strong and intelligent mind, and of varied instruction.” He therefore found it impossible that she should seek to deceive others or that she herself should be deceived. From her he had several times heard that story told, always in a clear and precise manner, so that he found himself extremely embarrassed. It was repugnant to him to admit such facts, but, on the other hand, he did not dare to call her good faith into doubt. My own observations tended to confirm all that had been told me of the lady in question. There was in her air, in her manners, even in her voice, an indescribable something difficult to feign and which carries within it the conviction of truth. It was, then, impossible for me not to judge her sincere, all the more so as she seemed to speak of such things with evident repugnance. The banker had told me that it was very difficult to persuade her to speak of the matter, because, in general, she found her listeners more disposed to laugh than to believe. Add to this that neither she nor the banker knew Spiritism or had heard it spoken of.

Here is that lady’s account:

“Around 1820, having left our house in Suffolk, we went to live in the city of ***, a seaport in France. Our family was composed of my father, my mother, a sister, a brother of about 12 years, myself, and an English servant. Our house was situated in a very secluded spot, a little outside the city, right in the middle of the beach. There were no other houses or buildings in the vicinity.

“One evening my father saw, a few yards from the door, a man wrapped in a great cloak, seated on a piece of rock. My father approached him to bid him good evening, but, obtaining no reply, he turned back. Before entering, however, he had the idea of looking behind him and, to his great astonishment, he saw no one any longer. He was still more surprised when, on approaching again and examining carefully around the rock, he found not the slightest trace of the individual, who had been seated there an instant before, nor any shelter where he could have hidden himself. When my father entered the parlor, he said: “My children, I have just seen an apparition.” As is easy to understand, we laughed heartily. “Meanwhile, that night and on several nights following, we heard strange noises in various places of the house: now they were groans, which came from beneath the windows, now it seemed that the windows themselves were being scratched and, at other moments, one would have said that several persons were climbing on the roof. We opened the windows several times, asking in a loud voice: “Who is there?” But we obtained no reply.

“After a few days, the noises were heard in the very room in which my sister and I slept (she was twenty years old and I eighteen). We awakened the whole house, but they would not listen to us; they reproached us and called us mad. Ordinarily the noises consisted of knocks; sometimes there were twenty or thirty per minute; at other times, one per minute.

“Finally, the internal and external noises were also heard by our parents, who found themselves constrained to admit that it was not a matter of imagination. Then they recalled the apparition. But, as we were not very frightened, we ended by growing accustomed to all that noise. One night, when they were knocking, as usual, the idea came to me to say: “If you are a Spirit, knock six times.” Immediately, I heard six blows struck with all clarity. In time these noises became so familiar that not only did we have no fear but they ceased to be disagreeable.

“Now I am going to recount the most curious part of this story. I confess that I would hesitate to communicate it to you, had it not been witnessed by all the members of my family. My brother, then a boy, but now a man very distinguished in his profession, will be able, should it become necessary, to confirm all the details.

“Besides the knockings in our room, we began to hear, principally in the parlor, something like a human voice. The first time we heard it, my sister was at the piano; we were singing a romance n and behold the Spirit began to sing with us. You can imagine our astonishment. There was no way to doubt the reality of the fact, because, shortly afterward, the voice began to speak to us in a clear and intelligible manner, intruding, from time to time, into our conversation. The voice was low, the tones slow, solemn, and very distinct: the Spirit always spoke to us in French. He said he was called Gaspard; but, when we wished to question him about his personal history, he did not reply; he also never would explain the motive that had led him to put himself in contact with us. We generally thought he was Spanish, without grasping, however, where such an idea came to us from. He called each member of the family by his baptismal name; sometimes he recited verses and constantly sought to instill in us sentiments of Christian morality, without, however, ever touching upon dogmatic questions. He seemed desirous of making us understand what there is of grandeur in virtue, what there is of beauty in the harmony that reigns among the members of one same family. Once when my sister and I had a slight disagreement, we heard the voice say: M… is wrong; S… is right.” From the time he became known, he occupied himself constantly in giving us good advice. On one occasion my father was very anxious about some documents that he feared he had lost and wished to find. Gaspard told him where they were, in our old house in Suffolk. They searched and found them in the exact place that had been indicated. “Things continued to pass in this way for more than three years. All the persons of the family, without excepting the servants, had heard the voice. The presence of the Spirit, which we did not doubt, was always a great happiness for all of us; he was considered, at the same time, as our companion and our protector. One day he told us: “For some months I shall not be with you.” Indeed, his visits ceased for several months. One night, we heard that voice, which we knew so well, say: “Behold me still among you.” It would be difficult to describe our joy.

“Until then we had always heard, but we had never seen him. One night my brother said: “Gaspard, I would very much like to see you.” The voice replied: “I will content you. You will see me, if you will go to the other side of the square.” My brother left us, but soon returned, saying: “I saw Gaspard; he wore a great cloak and a broad-brimmed hat; I looked beneath the hat and he smiled.” – “Yes,” said the voice, intervening in the conversation, “it was I.”

“The manner in which he left us, suddenly, was very painful to us. We returned to Suffolk and there, as in France, for several weeks after our arrival, Gaspard continued to converse with us.

“One night he told us: “I am going to leave you forever; a misfortune would befall you if I remained near you in this country, where our communications would be ill understood and ill interpreted.”

“Since then,” added the lady, with an accent of sadness, as if she were speaking of a beloved being, snatched away by death – “we have not again heard Gaspard’s voice.”

“Here are the facts, as they were recounted to us. All this makes me reflect and may lead your readers, who knows, to reflect also. I do not claim to give any explanation, any opinion. I will only say that I have entire confidence in the good faith of the person from whom I heard them, and I subscribe my name, as a guarantee of the exactness of my account.”

S. C. Hall.

[1] Translator’s Note: Our emphasis. A narration in verse of a simple and sentimental story, made to be sung.