Biographies & Memoirs

WITCHCRAFT

Bertrand Russell once observed that spiritualism was the suburban form of witchcraft, but it was considered neither suburban nor witchcraft during the Second Empire. Even the great Dominican Lacordaire, the most brilliant preacher of the day and a member of the Académie Française, thought there might be something in it. In 1854 Princesse Mathilde and Pietri, the Prefect of Police, both tried table-turning. Napoleon and Eugénie experimented soon after, without much enthusiasm.

Three years later, an unusually gifted medium named David Dunglas Hume arrived in Paris, a young Scot who had discovered his powers while living in the United States. Twenty-two, haggard and skeletal, with nice manners, he not only communicated with the dead but foretold the future. Converted to Catholicism by a celebrated Jesuit, Fr Ravignan, he confessed that he was tormented by spirits but promised to give them up. They returned, however – at least, he said they did – and he began to talk to them.

On 13 March 1857 Horace de Viel Castel wrote, ‘All Paris is talking about the American sorcerer.’ Hume had been taken up by Prince and Princesse de Beauvau-Craon, holding seances at their house where, when he went into trances, claps of thunder sounded, bells pealed, tables and chairs danced round the room, pianos and accordions played, while handkerchiefs came out of the guests’ pockets and tied themselves in knots.

Fascinated, Eugénie invited Mr Hume to hold seances at the Tuileries, the first taking place in a seldom-used room. A heavy armchair suddenly lumbered across the room towards him and then the chair on which he was sitting rose slowly into the air – he also floated out of the window. Later the spirits of Napoleon I and Queen Hortense spoke to him, together with those of Pascal, Rousseau and St Louis. So, too, did Don Cipriano, who held the empress’s hand – ‘It’s my father’s hand!’ she cried. The emperor grasped it too, exclaiming, ‘My God, it’s cold!’ The Duc de Mortemart actually saw the spectral fingers.

Not everybody was convinced, however. Comte Walewski, minister for foreign affairs, warned that Hume was known to use conjuring tricks, was wanted by the police in several countries and was believed to be a Prussian agent. The Tuileries indignantly refused to credit these allegations, especially after scientists called in to investigate could find no explanation.

Throughout her life Eugénie was inclined to believe in messages from the world beyond. She took fortune-tellers very seriously indeed, and leafed through the Bible to find texts hinting at the future. It was a sign of her growing influence over Napoleon that, for a moment, he too was taken in by the ‘American sorcerer’.

‘Have you ever heard of a certain charlatan by name Hume, half English and half American, who pretends to raise spirits, etc.?’, Cowley asked Lord Clarendon. ‘He has been here for the last month and has complete hold over the emperor and empress who both believe in his spiritual powers.’ The ambassador added that after the emperor had asked Hume to raise the spirits of Napoleon I and Louis-Philippe, he was told they were both in the room with him. ‘“Wait a little”, said Hume, “and Your Majesty will feel their presence.” Soon afterwards H.M. experienced a violent kick on an unmentionable part of his sacred person.’

‘But, seriously speaking’, Cowley continues, ‘it is impossible to conceive that such a man should be so easily gulled, and as he receives this Hume at all times and alone, the Police are seriously alarmed.’

Eventually, Hume went too far, foretelling that the Prince Imperial would never become emperor. Eugénie immediately insisted on Napoleon calling the police. On 28 March Viel Castel noted with relish that the sorcerer, ‘who summoned up the dead in the presence of the emperor and empress’ had been sent to the Mazas prison ‘as a thief and sodomite’, and would be expelled from France to avoid a highly embarrassing trial.

Dr Barthez suspected that privately Eugénie continued to think he was genuine enough but had lost his powers. In 1862 Lord Malmesbury and the emperor discussed ‘Home [sic] and spiritualism, which I saw he half believed in; and as he had been speaking of the many doubtful pictures in the Louvre, I suggested that it was desirable that Mr Home should call up Titian’s spirit and ask him whether he really painted the portrait of Francis I.’ Malmesbury adds that Napoleon III ‘looked displeased’.

It is only fair to remember that others besides Eugénie believed in Hume. Among them was the exiled Victor Hugo, whom the sorcerer visited in the Channel Islands and obligingly put in touch with Molière.

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