The spirit-rapper; an autobiography
terrible night was spent calmly in prayer.
The next day, in the afternoon, Thorel presented himself at the
parsonage. His attitude was humble, his language embarrassed, and he
attempted to conceal with his hat certain bloody excoriations on his
face. The boy, as soon as he perceived him, exclaimed, “That is the man,
that is the man who has followed me this fortnight.” He pretended, when
questioned, that he came to get a small organ for his master. “Not so,
Thorel; you know it is not for that that you have come,” he was
answered. “But whence those wounds on your face? who has given them?”
“That is no business of yours; I will not tell.”
“Tell us, then, what you want. Be frank. Have you not come to beg this
boy’s pardon? Do it, then. Down on your knees.”
“Well, be it so; pardon then,” said Thorel, falling upon his knees, and
even while begging the lad’s pardon, drew himself along, and tried to
seize him by his blouse. He succeeded; and from that moment the
sufferings of the boy, and the mysterious noises in the parsonage,
redoubled. The curé, however, persuaded him to go to the mayor’s office.
He went, and as soon as he entered it, he fell three times on his knees,
without being required, and before all the witnesses, begged pardon;
but, at the same time, he drew himself along on his knees, and
endeavored to touch the curé, as he had touched the boy. The curé, after
retreating to a corner of the room, had, in self-defence, to beat him
off with his cane. He avowed that all was to be referred to M. G——, whom
the curé had prevented from earning his bread, and that he could easily
disembarrass the parsonage of the annoyances that were passing there, if
made worth his while.
The curé, in consequence of what had occurred, said, or was reported to
have said, that Thorel was a sorcerer, and had practised sorcery on the
boy at the parsonage. Thorel brought, in consequence, an action against
him for slander. The cause came to trial; the curé pleaded the truth in
justification, and was acquitted. On the trial, the facts I have stated,
as well as many others of no less importance, were testified to under
oath, by a large number of highly intelligent and respectable witnesses,
and not one of them can be denied, if human testimony is in any case to
be taken as conclusive.
Persons of sceptical and critical disposition may imagine that Thorel
was concealed behind the wainscot, but the persons who used their swords
had sense enough to ascertain whether that was so or not; besides, to
suppose it, were wholly inconsistent with other well-established facts
in the case. An hypothesis, to be acceptable, must meet and explain all
the facts, not merely a portion of them. It will not do to adopt a
theory, and then, after the manner of learned academicians and
_philosophical_ historians, reject as inadmissible all the details of
the case not compatible with that theory. But I have introduced this
narrative to prove the credibility of some of my own doings, not to
prove that there is such a thing as is commonly called sorcery—to prove
the validity of an alleged class of phenomena, not their proper
explanation. To this latter point I shall have occasion, before I close,
to speak at full length.
The annoyances, I may add, continued at the parsonage for some time, in
fine till the bishop removed the boys, and the malice of the persecutors
had completed the ruin of the curé. They then ceased, when the original
reason for producing them had been answered.[3]
-----
Footnote 3:
Pneumatologie des Esprits, par le Marquis Eudes de M——.
-----
CHAPTER XI.
WORTH CONSIDERING.
I failed for a long time yet to get any new light on the essential
nature of the agent with which I was operating, and remained still
undecided in my own mind whether it was a spiritual person, superhuman
and invisible, or a simple elemental force of nature, placed at the
command of every man who knows how to use his own powers. The answers I
obtained to my questions were vague, contradictory, and unsatisfactory.
I had no doubt that I was doing what in the eyes of ignorance and
superstition was called dealing with the devil, and practising what had
been denounced, and in former times punished, by the civil law as
sorcery or witchcraft. So much was clear and undeniable. But had not all
the world misunderstood the real nature of what it had condemned as
witchcraft, sorcery, maleficia, and magic? Had they not assumed
unnecessarily a preternatural agency, and an evil agent, where there was
really only a natural, a good, and a benevolent agent?
The bearing of this question on the Christian religion was very obvious,
and I well understood the significance of what Voltaire said, one day,
to a theologian, “_Sathan! c’est le Christianisme tout entier_; PAS DE
SATHAN, PAS DE SAUVEUR,” and I felt that there was truth in what Bayle,
the ablest and acutest of all modern authors opposed to Christianity,
had said: “Prove to unbelievers the existence of evil spirits, and you
will by that alone force them to concede all your dogmas.” In any point
of view, Christianity was pledged to assert the existence of Satan and
his intervention in human affairs, for according to it, Christ was
revealed from heaven and came into the world that he might destroy the
devil and his works. If there was no devil, the mission of Christ had no
motive, no object, and Christianity is a fable.
Moreover, all Christians, whether Catholics asserting the infallibility
and authority of the Church, or Protestants asserting simply the
infallibility and authority of the Bible, were bound to assert the
existence of evil spirits, and the reality of demonic obsession and
possession, of witchcraft, sorcery, and magic, in the common and
opprobrious sense of the terms. As to Catholics, there could be no
question. The Church plainly and unequivocally recognizes the existence
of Satan, as may be gathered from the prayers and ceremonies of Baptism,
as well as from the significance of the Sacrament itself; and not only
his existence, but his power over the natural man, and even material
objects. Thus when the priest, in administering the Sacrament, breathes
gently three times in the face of the child, he exclaims, “Exi ab eo,
immunde spiritus, et da locum Spiritui Sancto Paraclito:” Go out of him,
impure spirit, and give place to the Holy Ghost, the Paraclete; and also
after the prayer _Deus patrum nostrorum_: “Exorcizo te, immunde
spiritus, in nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, ut exeas, et
recedas ab hoc famulo Dei. Ipse enim tibi imperat, maledicte damnate qui
pedibus super mare ambulavit, et Petro mergenti dextram porrexit. Ergo,
maledicte diabole, recognosce sententiam tuam, et da honorem Deo vivo et
vero, da honorem Jesu Christo Filio ejus, et Spiritui Sancto; et recede
ab hoc famulo Dei, quia istum sibi Deus et Dominus noster Jesus Christus
ad suam sanctam gratiam, et benedictionem, fontemque, Baptismatis vocari
dignatus est.” The candidate, before receiving baptism, is asked, “Dost
thou renounce Satan?” and answers, “I renounce him.” “And all his
works?” “I renounce them.” “And all his pomps?” “I renounce them.” So,
in blessing the salt which is used in administering the Sacrament, the
priest says, “Exorcizo te, creatura salis, in nomine Dei Patris
omnipotentis, et in charitate Domini nostri Jesu Christi, et in virtute
Spiritus Sancti, exorcizo te per Deum vivum, per Deum verum, per Deum
sanctum,” &c. The whole proceeds on the supposition that Satan is to be
expelled, dislodged, and the Holy Ghost to be placed, so to speak, in
possession, or the grace of Jesus Christ is to be infused, so that the
Holy Ghost shall henceforth dwell in the heart of the baptized, instead
of Satan, who previously held dominion over it. The Church has also her
exorcists, and her forms of exorcising of evil spirits.
The Bible is no less clear and explicit on the subject than the Church.
It teaches that Satan, in the form of a serpent, seduced Eve to eat of
the forbidden fruit; it relates the doings of the Egyptian magicians; it
forbids necromancy and evocation of the dead, and commands the Jews not
to suffer a witch to live; declares that all the gods of the Gentiles
are devils; tells us that the devil is the prince of this world, that he
goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour; bids us
resist the devil and he will flee from us. St. Paul speaks of the prince
and the powers of the air that besiege us, and against whom we must put
on the whole armor of God, and do valiant battle. Moreover it speaks of
demoniacs, or persons possessed with devils; and among the marvellous
works ascribed to Jesus Christ, is that of expelling demons, or casting
out devils. All Christians, then, must admit that there is a devil, and
that there are evil spirits, who may, and who do, interfere with men,
harass them, and sometimes take literal possession of them. A recent
French author, a sincere Christian believer, has felt this. “The
question,” he says, “at the Christian point of view, is by no means
indifferent, but is, as it were, the mother question, the question of
questions. It is no less than to determine whether the Bible and the
Church have or have not been really mistaken in one of their fundamental
principles. For a man filled with Christian desires, and cherishing at
the same time a respect for evidence, the question is most grave. It
touches the whole of faith, neither more nor less; and as it will not do
to admit in the sacred Scriptures, whose language is assumed to be
inspired, what is called _manners of speaking_, or _complaisances_ for
the age, or _remains of ignorance_, we must be permitted to say, that if
it were proved that the Bible in the time of Pharaoh mistook simple and
miserable jugglers for real _magicians_, poor charlatans for
_enchanters_, a few knavish and lying priests for the false gods of the
Gentiles, simple mummeries for real _evocations_, delirious cataleptics
for spirits of Python, &c.; if it were proved that Jesus Christ, in
granting to his disciples the gift, and prescribing to them the rules,
of expelling demons, mistook a fact of pure physiology; if it were
proved that the Church, in instituting exorcism, and prescribing for it
precise and learned formulas, and, moreover, practising it for eighteen
centuries, has been deceived during all that period,—we should feel that
it is all over with Christianity; we should regard it as condemned, and
hasten to renounce an authority so little judicious, and so little to be
depended upon.” Christians may, undoubtedly, dispute as to this or that
particular case, and say that the evidence of demonic intervention, in
this or that particular instance, is not conclusive; but they cannot,
without renouncing their faith, and becoming Sadducees, deny that such
intervention is possible, or assert that it is improbable. They must
concede its possibility, its probability, and its susceptibility of
proof; and therefore when the evidence in any particular instance is
sufficient to establish the reality of any other class of facts, they
are bound, as reasonable beings, to admit it. To them there is, and can
be no _à priori_ difficulty, for they already believe in the reality of
demonic agents adequate to produce the mysterious phenomena that they
are called upon to accept. Hence, in those ages and countries in which
nobody doubted Christianity, all men of science, physicians,
magistrates, as well as the clergy and the people, readily admitted the
demonic character of the phenomena like those produced in our day by
mesmerism.
But, if the belief in the reality of demonic intervention is integral in
Christianity, the most obvious way of getting rid of Christianity and