The Spiritist Review - Journal of Psychological Studies - 1860

We owe the news below to the kindness of one of our subscribers, taken from the chronicles of Froissard, demonstrating that the spirits are not a modern discovery. We ask our readers to allow us to report it in the style of those days (XIV century). It would lose originality if transcribed into our modern language.

The battle of Juberoth is a famous one among the chronicles of the old days. It happened during the war between John, king of Castela, and Diniz, king of Portugal, in the fight to conquer the latter’s kingdom. The Castelans and the Bearneses were broken into pieces. The fact reported by Froissard on that occasion is most interesting. One reads in the Chap. XVI, Book III of his chronicles, that on the very next day after the battle, Count Foix was informed about the event, a fact that was inconceivable those days, given the distances between the places. It is Count Foix’s squire that tells Froissard the fact in question:

“During the whole Sunday, and the whole Monday and Tuesday, Count Foix, in his Ortais castle, showed such a tough, hard expression on his face that nobody heard a word from him; during those three days he would not leave his quarters either, or even speak to his knight or his squire, however close they might be. Even those who did speak to him, he sent them away, not addressing them with even a single word in those three days. Tuesday evening he called his brother, Arnold-William, and told him in a low voice:

• Our people had a battle that made me mad because they were attacked on their journey, like I told them when they left.

Arnold-William, a very sensible man and shrewd knight, who knew his brother’s ways and condition, remained silent, and the Count who wanted to try his courage for he had put up with his boredom for a long time, spoke again and said in a louder voice than the first time:

• For God’s sake, Sir Arnold, that is how I tell you, and we shall soon have news, but the country of Béarn has never lost so much, since a hundred years up to now, as it has lost this time in Portugal.

The many knights and squires who were present and who saw and heard the Count, dared not to speak.

Then, ten days later, the truth was known through those who had been there at work and who were told first and then to everyone who wanted to listen, all things, in the shape and form as they had happened in Juberoth. That reinforced the Count’s and the country’s sorrow, for those who had already lost their brothers, fathers, sons and friends.

• Holy Mary! I said to the squire who told me that story, and how come Count Foix knew all that on the very next day, without presumption?

• By his faith, he said, he can feel things well, as he demonstrated.

• Then he is a fortuneteller, I said; or he has squires who ride the winds or he must have some sort of art.

The squire laughed and said:

• He needs to know it through some sort of necromancy. We know nothing in this land how he uses it, but through his imagination (by supposition).

• Then, I told the squire, the imagination that you mentioned, kindly let me know about it and I will be grateful to you. If it is something to go quiet about then I will shut up and nobody under any circumstance will ever hear that from me.

• I beg you, the squire said, since I would not want others to know that I told you.

• He then took me to a corner of the Ortais castle and started his report, by saying:

• Some twenty years back a Baron by the name Raymond reined over this country as the Lord of Corasse. Corasse, which is a town seven leagues away from this city of Ortais, as you know. The Lord of Corasse, in the days I refer to, had a lawsuit in Avignon, before the Pope, about the church’s tithe in his city, against a priest from Catalonia who was really wealthy and claimed to have rights over those tithes from Corasse, well worth an annual income of a hundred florins and the so called rights he proved and demonstrated. By a definite sentence, Pope Urban V condemned the baron in general council, passing judgment in favor of the priest. With the latest sentence of the Pope, the baron rode his horse for many days until he got to Bearn to show his seal and letters to take possession to his right to the tithe.

The Lord of Corasse came forward and told the vicar: Master Peter or Master Martin, such was his name, do you think that I must lose my inheritance because of your letters? I don’t see you so smart to take it or to take things which are mine because if you do so you risk your life. Go somewhere else to claim benefits because you shall have nothing from my inheritance. I forbid you once and for all. The priest suspected the baron who was cruel and no longer dared to persevere. Thus, he decided to return to Avignon as he did. However, when he was preparing to leave he came to the presence of the Lord of Corasse and said: Through your power and not rights, you subtract me from my church’s dues and knowingly you are making a huge mistake. I am not as strong in this country as you are but know this, before I go, I shall send you a measure that you shall fear more than me. The Lord of Corasse gave no importance to the threats and said: Go to God, go, do as you will; I have no fear, dead or alive; as from your words I shall not lose my inheritance. The priest then left and returned, God knows where to, Catalonia or Avignon, and did not forget what he had said to the Lord of Corasse when he was about to leave, because when the baron least expected, asleep in his bed with his wife in his castle, about three months later, invisible messengers came and started to scramble everything in their path and seemed that they would destroy everything hitting very hard and making so much noise in the Lord’s bedroom that his lady who was present was terrified. The baron heard all that very well but said nothing because he did not want to give away the courage of a scared man; thus, he was smart enough to face all events. The violent noise and turmoil in several parts of the castle lasted a long time, and then stopped. In the morning everybody came to the master when he woke up and asked: Sir, have you heard what we heard last night? The Lord of Corasse was touched by that but said no. What have you heard, he asked. Then they mentioned the violent turmoil in the castle that turned down and broke the china in the kitchen. He laughed and said that they were dreaming and what happened was caused by the wind. For God’s sake, the lady said, I also heard that very well. Then night came again and the violent turmoil was back and the noise was such and the knocks so hard on the walls and windows of the bedroom that it seemed that everything was about to be brought to the ground. The baron left his bed and could not find what he wanted. He then asked: Who is knocking like that on my bedroom’s door? He then got the answer: It is me. Who sent you, asked the night? It was the vicar of Catalonia, to whom you caused great harm because you subtracted him from his rights to your benefits. I shall not leave you in peace until you pay his dues and he is satisfied. The baron then asked: what is your name, since you are such a good messenger. My name is Orthon. The baron replied, Orthon, the service of a vicar does no good to you. He shall make you suffer. If you can believe me I beg you to leave me alone and do me service and I will be very grateful to you. Orthon responded promptly, approaching the baron and saying: Would you like that? Yes, replied the baron, but do no harm to anyone. Nobody, said Orthon, my only power is to wake you up and keep the others awake. Do as I say, said the baron, and we shall come to an agreement, and forget that naughty vicar, who bears no good, but pity on you; thus, be at my service. Since it is your wishes, said Orthon, it is also my wishes.

• My Lord, she said, I would see Orthon and I don’t want to see him, God willing.

• I want to see him, said the Lord. He then left his bed gracefully but saw nothing that would make him say: I saw Orthon. The day passed and the night came. When the Lord of Corasse was in bed again Orthon came and started speaking again, as usual.

• It was I, said Orthon; it was the form I took.