Knocking Spirits in Russia
The following extract, dated April 8th, 1868, from the Courier Russe, from Saint Petersburg, was sent to us from Riga:
“Do you believe in knocking Spirits?" For me, not at all; and yet I have just seen a material fact, palpable, that goes so far outside the rules of common sense, and so in disagreement with the principles of stability and gravity, that my fourth-grade teacher instilled in me, that I do not know which one of the two is more affected, the Spirit or me. - Our editorial secretary received a decent-looking gentleman the other day, of an age that he could not attribute to him the idea of a bad joke; after greeting, introduction, etc.; the whole works finished, this gentleman says that he comes to our office to seek advice; that what happens to him is so much outside all the facts of social life, that he believes to be his duty to publish it.
“My house,” he said, “is full of knocking Spirits; every night around ten o'clock, they start their exercises, carrying the heavier objects, hitting, jumping, and in a word, turning my whole apartment upside down. I had appealed to the police, a soldier slept in my house for several nights, the disorder did not stop, although at each alarm he drew his saber in a threatening manner. My house is isolated, I have only one servant, my wife, and my daughter, and when these facts happen, we are gathered. I live in a very distant street, in Vassili-Ostroff.”
I had entered during the conversation and listened to him with a gaping mouth; I told you, I don't believe in knocking Spirits, but that, not at all. I explained to this gentleman that to publicize these facts, we still had to be convinced of their existence, and suggested to go and find out myself. We made an appointment for the evening, and at nine o'clock I was at my man's house. I am ushered into a small living room, furnished comfortably enough; I examine the arrangement of the rooms: there were only four, including a kitchen, the whole thing occupying the entire middle floor of a wooden house; no one lives above, the bottom is occupied by a store. Around ten o'clock we were together in the living room, my man, his wife, his daughter, the cook, and me. Half an hour, nothing new! Suddenly a door opens and a galosh falls in the middle of the room; I believed in an accomplice, and wanted to make sure that the staircase was empty, when my galosh jumps on a piece of furniture and from there back onto the floor; then it was the turn of the chairs in the adjoining room, that had no exit except through the one we occupied, and which I had just found perfectly empty. At the end of only an hour the silence was reestablished, and the Spirit, the Spirits, the skillful friend, or God knows what, disappeared, leaving us in a bewilderment that, I assure you, had nothing to do with a game. Here are the facts, I have seen them, with my own eyes; I am not responsible for explaining them to you; If you want to find the explanation yourself, we have all the information you need to go and make your observations on the spot.
Henri de Brenne.”
