Mangin, the charlatan.

— Everyone knew that pencil-seller who, mounted on a richly decorated carriage, with a shining helmet and extravagant attire, for many years was one of the celebrities of the streets of Paris. He was not a vulgar charlatan, and those who knew him personally agreed in recognizing in him an uncommon intelligence, a certain elevation of thought, and moral qualities above his nomadic profession. He died last year and, since then, has communicated several times, spontaneously, with one of our mediums. In keeping with the character they recognized in him, the philosophical veneer found in his communications will not be surprising. (Paris, December 20, 1866. – Mr. Desliens' group – Medium:

Mr. Bertrand.)

THE PENCIL.

The pencil is the word of thought. Without the pencil thought remains mute and incomprehensible to your coarse senses. The pencil is the offensive and defensive soul of thought; it is the hand that speaks and defends itself.

The pencil!… and above all the Mangin pencil!… Oh! pardon… here I am becoming selfish!… But why could I not, as in former times, praise my pencils? Are they not good?… Have you anything to complain of? Ah! if I were still in my French vehicle, with my Roman costume… you would believe me… I knew so well how to make my propaganda, and the poor fool thought white what was black, simply because Mangin, the famous charlatan, had said so!… I said charlatan… No, one must say propagandist… Come now! charlatans, untie the strings of your purse; buy these superb pencils, blacker than ink and hard as stone… Hurry, hurry: the sale is about to end!… Ah! what was it that I said?… Word of honor! I believe I am mistaking my role and that I ended very badly, after having begun well… All of you, supplied with pencils, seated around this table, go say and prove to the proud journalists that Mangin is not dead. Go tell those who forgot my merchandise, because I was no longer there to make them believe in its admirable qualities; go tell everyone that I still live and that, if I died, it was to live better…

Ah! gentlemen journalists, you mocked me and, nevertheless, if instead of considering me as a charlatan robbing the people's money, you had studied me more attentively and philosophically, you would have recognized a being with reminiscences of his past. You would have understood the reason for my taste for this costume of a Roman warrior, the reason for this love of harangues in the public square. Then, no doubt, you would have said that I had been a Roman soldier or general, and you would not have been mistaken. Come now! come now! then buy pencils and use them; but use them usefully, not like me to perorate without motive, but to propagate this beautiful doctrine that many among you follow only from very far off.

Arm yourselves, then, with your pencils and open a broad road in this world of incredulity. Make all these incredulous doubting Thomases touch with their finger the sublime truths of Spiritism, which one day will make all men brothers.

Mangin.

(Mr. Delanne's group. – January 14, 1867. – Medium: Mr. Bertrand.)

THE PAPER.

I spoke of the pencil and of charlatanism, but I have not yet spoken of paper. No doubt it is because I was reserving doing so this evening.

Ah! how I would like to be paper! not when it debases itself to do evil, but, on the contrary, when it fulfills its true role, which is to do good! Indeed, paper is the instrument that, together with the pencil, sows here and there noble thoughts of the spirit. Paper is the open book where each one may gather with a glance the counsels useful to his earthly journey!…

Ah! how I would like to be paper, in order to fulfill with it the role of moralizer and instructor, giving each one the encouragement necessary to bear firmly the ills that, so often, are causes of shameful weaknesses!…

Ah! if I were paper I would abolish all selfish and tyrannical laws, in order to let radiate only those that proclaim equality. I would speak only of love and charity. I would want all to be humble and good, the wicked to become better, the proud to become humble, the poor to become rich, in short, that equality should arise and, on every lip, be like the expression of truth and not the hope of concealing the selfishness and tyranny that dominate the heart. If I were paper, I would want to be white for innocence, and green for whoever has no hope of relief for his ills. I would want to be gold in the hands of the poor, happiness in the hands of the afflicted, balm in those of the sick. I would want to be the pardon of all offenses. I would not condemn, I would not curse, I would not cast anathemas; I would not criticize with malevolence; I would say nothing that could harm anyone. In short, I would do what you do: only teach the good and speak of this beautiful doctrine that unites you all and under every form; I would always profess this sublime maxim: Love one another. He who would like to return to Earth, not as a charlatan, not to sell only pencils, but to add to this the sale of paper, and who would say to all: the pencil cannot be useful without the paper, and the paper cannot do without the pencil.

Mangin.