The Ancestors’ Armchair We were told that at the home of a renowned poet, there is a custom that will seem bizarre to anyone that is not a Spiritist. At the family table there is always an empty armchair; this armchair is sealed by a padlock, and nobody sits there: it is the place of the ancestors, the grandparents and the friends who left this world; it is there as a respectful token of affection, a pious remembrance, a call to their presence, and to tell them that they still live in the minds of the survivors.
The person who quoted this fact to us, as coming from a good source, added: “The Spiritists reject purely formal things, and rightly so; but if there is one that they can adopt, without denying their principles, it is without a doubt this one."
Certainly, this is a thought that will never arise in the brain of a materialist; it attests not only the spiritualist idea, but it is eminently Spiritist, and it does not surprise us in any way on the part of a man who, without openly raising the flag of Spiritism, has repeatedly affirmed his belief in the fundamental truths that follow it.
There is something touching and patriarchal in this usage that imposes respect. Who, in fact, would dare to ridicule it? It is not one of those sterile formulas that say nothing to the soul: it is the expression of a feeling that emanates from the heart, the tangible sign of the bond that unites the present to the absent ones. This apparently empty seat, but occupied by thought, is a whole profession of faith, and more, a whole teaching for adults as well as for children. For the children, it is an eloquent lesson, although silent, and that cannot fail to leave valuable impressions. Those that are brought up with these ideas will never be incredulous, because later, reason will come to confirm the beliefs with which they were lulled. The idea of the presence of their grandparents or revered persons around them, will be a more powerful brake than the fear of the devil for them.
