MAHOGANY POSSESSED.
There is something in Table-moving—and we imagined that Faraday had discovered what that was. At least we thought that if he had not, the Deuce was in it; and we were right—but right in the alternative. The phenomenon, according to the demonstration of two Anglican divines, is produced by "Satanic Agency." The old broker of souls is the man in possession of mahogany. The Rev. N. S. Godfrey, Incumbent of Wortley, Leeds, and the Rev. E. Gillson, Curate of Lyncombe and Widcombe, Bath, have respectively printed and published evidence of this fact. They have witnessed the change of mahogany into Satan-wood. They have seen the tables talk with their legs by knocking on the floor, and they give us dialogues which they have held, personally, with these articles of furniture; questions put and genuine answers returned, with the stamp—without which none are genuine. From these answers they conclude that the leg of the table is connected with a cloven foot.
The tables, indeed, candidly confessed to both of these clergymen that they were actuated by evil spirits, one of which described itself as a lost soul, by the name of Alfred Brown, but appeared, by the testimony of another, to have an alias. This rogue of a spirit asserted that he could move the table without the hands of the experimenters; which, when tested, however, he could not do; and it certainly seems that table-moving cannot be accomplished unless somebody else, besides the devil, has a hand in it.
That personage is familiarly denominated the Old Gentleman. His table talk justifies his title to that appellation, by showing that he is in his dotage. The demons that possess the tables contradict themselves on cross examination in a way unparalleled by the stupidest liar that ever stood in a witness box. The Baronet whose case broke down the other day was a very adept in fiction, compared to the Father of it—speaking by tables. Besides it is very silly of him—not the Baronet but the other—to disclose himself at all. If his great object is to get people to come to him, he could do nothing more likely to defeat it than to go to them, and thus convince the British Public of his existence. "The Devil is an Ass" is now something more than the title of a comedy.
The tables refused to move when the Bible was placed upon them—though one did lift its leg by trying very hard "slowly and heavily," under the burden of a New Testament. But another was equally restive beneath a slip of paper whereon was written the name of "Satan." So it was under other names, not to be repeated here. Now, all this is grossly inconsistent on the part of one who has always been considered the very Prince of Plausibility.
However, both of the reverend gentlemen denounce all doubt touching the correctness of their reference of these things to diabolical agency, as profane scepticism; and under these circumstances we have besought the advice of our venerated Rector, the Rev. Dr. Dryport; who told us that he believed in no supernatural events whatever, the acknowledgment of which was not required by the Thirty-Nine Articles. He added that if he saw a table, moving without physical agency, stopped, independently of simple weight, by the superposition of a Bible, he should be disposed to let the volume remain where it was, and apply himself to the study of its contents. If he had reason to suppose that the devil was in the table, he should let him alone, and have nothing to say to him unless he were sure he had the power to cast him out of it.
We asked the Reverend Doctor what he thought of the following extract from the pamphlet of Mr. Gillson.
"I then asked, 'Where are Satan's head-quarters? Are they in England?' There was a slight movement. 'Are they in France?' A violent movement. 'Are they in Spain?' Similar agitation. 'Are they at Rome?' The table literally seemed frantic.... 'Do you know the Pope?' The table was violently agitated."
Dr. Dryport answered that he supposed the table must have been one that had been used at Exeter Hall, and probably acted under influence from that quarter—of a mechanical nature. He should think that one of the parties touching the table was a very zealous Protestant.
We inquired if there would be any harm in our trying if tables would move by the imposition of our hands? He replied that there could be no doubt that they were moved by an imposition practised by hand, but if we had any, there was no objection to our making the experiment. We, therefore, chose twelve honest men, constituting, in fact, a British jury, and got them to lay their hands on a substantial dinner-table, which presently began to move. The following dialogue ensued:
"Where are the head-quarters of despotism? Are they in England?" There was no movement. "Are they in France?" A violent movement. "Are they in Austria?" A tremendous movement. "Are they in Russia?" The table jumped and bounced, and tumbled from side to side in such a manner that one might have imagined that a quantity of brandy and water had been spilt upon it and made it furiously drunk.
"Do you know Old Nicholas?" The table capsized, went right over; completely upset.
After that, what question can there be about the "agency" concerned in Table-moving? Dr. Dryport, however, will have it that Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Gillson have not been having communication with evil spirits, and that whatever those gentlemen may say for themselves, they are no conjurors.
"Manchester is the portico of the great Temple of Peace."—Cobden.