Rosalie –Materialisation by Harry Prince

December 15, 1937.

On the morning of Wednesday, December 8, 1937, I was rung up at my office by a lady, obviously educated and cultured, who informed me that she had read in The Listener[2] the published version of a broadcast talk[3] which I had given on 'haunted houses.' The reason she gave for communicating with me was that she was impressed with my efforts to 'ascertain the truth' in such matters. She told me that she had noted that I could 'guarantee a ghost' in a particular haunted house which I mentioned in my broadcast; she, too, could 'guarantee a ghost,' but one of a much more objective nature than any I had experienced.

[2] For November 10, 1937.

[3] To the Empire, on November 4, and following days.

My informant lives in one of the better-class London suburbs, and every Wednesday evening, she told me, she and her friends hold a 'family séance' at her house, at which a 'little girl spirit,' known as Rosalie, always materializes. The reason for approaching me, she said, was to invite me to join the family circle any Wednesday, by arrangement, and she was certain that I should be convinced of the phenomenon of materialization, of which she knew I was very sceptical.

Conditions of Sitting

Of course, there were conditions, which I anticipated. But I was genuinely astonished at the simple rules to which I was asked to adhere. In the first place, if I accepted the invitation to attend a séance, I was to promise not to reveal the identity of any of the sitters, or the locality where the séance was held. I could write an account of the séance giving my candid views of it, provided I mentioned no names. If I were impressed with the proceedings, I was 'not to seek a scientific inquiry', as the mother of 'Rosalie,' who attended each sitting, was 'terrified that her girl might be frightened away.' These Wednesday meetings were in the nature of a sacred communion with the spirit of her daughter, and would be maintained as such. I was not to bring to the séance any light (such as a torch); I was not to speak to or touch the materialization without permission, and I was not to do anything, or make any experiment, without the sitters' consent. I would not be asked to sign any document embodying these arrangements: it was to be a 'gentlemen's agreement.'

And now came the surprise. If I accepted their invitation, I would be allowed full control of the room and the sitters up to the beginning of the séance. I could search the house from top to bottom, seal all external windows and doors, search the séance room (the drawing-room), all doors and windows of which I could lock and seal, I could move - or remove - any furniture, ornaments, etc., from the séance room which I thought fit, I could control the room to the extent of sprinkling powdered starch or other substance round doors or windows, or place electrical contacts there (she admitted that she had gathered that this was what I did, from my broadcast from the 'haunted house'[4]), I could search the sitters or any person in the house immediately before or after the séance. But once the sitting had begun, I was to remain passive and ask permission if I wanted to do anything, or make any alteration during the séance. I told the speaker that I was impressed with the conditions imposed, and that I would think the matter over and write to her. She replied that if I accepted, I was to be at the house soon after seven p.m. and that the séance commenced usually at about eight o'clock.

[4] On March 10, 1936, from an old Manor, Meopham, Kent

A Visit to the Suburbs

On Monday, December 13, I wrote to Mrs. X., saying that I would accept her invitation and agree to all the conditions. As I happened to have lunch with Mr. R. S. Lambert, then editor of The Listener, on the day that she telephoned me, I asked her whether she would permit him to accompany me as a sort of witness of anything striking that might occur. I told her that I would personally guarantee that he would fulfil all the conditions that I had accepted, and that he had said as much at lunch on the day she rang me up. If the idea of a witness was acceptable, I asked her to telephone or telegraph her consent on receipt of letter, in order that Mr. Lambert could make the necessary arrangements. This confirmatory message was not forthcoming, so on Wednesday, December 15, I journeyed alone to the London suburb - to the most amazing séance that even I have experienced.

The House

I arrived at M― just after seven o'clock and made my way to Mrs. X's residence, which I found was a large double-fronted, detached house, in a good-class road, with a flight of twelve stone steps leading to the front door, on each side of which was a large room with bay windows. It was at a corner of another road, and had an area. There were three entrances (four, including the French window leading to garden) to the house: the front door, an area entrance (seldom used, except when coal was delivered, the coal cellar being under the front steps), approached by a flight of steps, and a door at the back of the house reached by a path running parallel to the side road. There were seven windows facing the main road: two on ground level, two above, two small attic windows at the top, and a small window (guarded by iron bars) in the area room. At the back of the house were four windows, and a French window giving access to the long, narrow garden, which was reached by some iron steps. On the side of the house facing the transverse road were two smallish windows and a lavatory window, and in the wall opposite the next-door house were two windows, a bathroom window and another lavatory window. I have given a description of the house in some detail, in order that the reader can visualize the sort of place it is: a typical, largish, mid-Victorian, double-fronted, detached suburban house.

The History of 'Rosalie'

I was admitted by a trim parlour-maid and shown into the dining-room (the apartment on the right of the stone steps), where I was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. X., and their daughter, aged nearly seventeen. A simple meal was set. Introductions over, we sat round the table and enjoyed a light supper, during which I heard the complete story of 'Rosalie.'

Mr. X. is in business in the City and both he and his wife are charming, with most affable personalities. They are not spiritualists, but are interested in psychical research, though they have read little of the standard literature. However, they listen to broadcasts on the subject, and I found that they knew something of my work from The Listener and other journals. They appeared pleased to make my acquaintance.

My hostess has a friend named Madame Z., whom she met when helping at a local church bazaar. Madame Z. is of French extraction, was a nurse, and married an English officer at the beginning of the Great War. Her husband was killed in action in 1916, leaving his wife with a baby, Rosalie. Rosalie was never strong and at the age of six she contracted diphtheria and passed away (in 1921) in her mother's arms. She was ill for only a few days. Madame Z. is a spiritualist, though she belongs to no 'church' or group. She rents two rooms in the neighbourhood, her only home. In the spring of 1925 - according to my hostess - Madame Z. was awakened during the night by the sound of her dead girl's voice crying 'mother.' This occurred so frequently that Madame Z. got into the habit of lying awake at night, waiting for the 'voice.' Gradually, she thought she could see (in the dark) the dim outline of 'Rosalie' and hear her footsteps in the room. Finally, the mother declared, one night she put her arm out of bed and her hand was clasped by that of her little girl.

Having very few friends in England, Madame Z. became intimate with the X. family. It was my host and his wife who suggested that regular séances should be held in their house (because Madame's apartments are quite unsuitable for the purpose) in order to encourage the visits of 'Rosalie.' The X.'s knew enough of séance technique to furnish what they thought were the right 'conditions,' and the sittings began. This was towards the end of 1928. It was nearly six months before there was any sign of 'Rosalie,' though she visited her mother's bedroom, as formerly. In the late spring of 1929 'Rosalie' materialized without warning and made her presence known (of course, in complete darkness) by again gently clasping her mother's hand. From that evening the girl appeared regularly. Very gradually, they introduced a little light into the séances by means of ordinary cheap hand mirrors, the glass being covered with luminous paint. Four of these are sometimes used simultaneously. Finally, 'Rosalie' began to speak, usually to her mother, answering simple questions, and replying in monosyllables. Very rarely did she say more than 'yes' or 'no,' appearing extraordinarily shy. The original circle, with little alteration, developed the 'materialization,' but a very occasional visitor appeared to make little difference to the coming of 'Rosalie,' if that visitor was well known to the circle. Hence my invitation to be present. I heard a great deal about the questions that 'Rosalie' was alleged to have answered, but it would take too long to detail them here. Such is the history of 'Rosalie,' whom I was so soon to see, feel, and hear.

The Search

By the time we had finished supper and I had heard the story of Rosalie, the two remaining sitters had arrived, and were waiting for us in the room opposite, across the hall - the drawing-room (séance room). I was first introduced to Madame Z., a pleasant French lady, and on the right side of fifty as regards her age. She said she was very pleased to meet me and apologized for not being able to admit my friend (Mr. Lambert) to the séance, as they had never risked two strangers at a sitting 'in case it frightened "Rosalie".' The other sitter was a cheerful young fellow, whom I will call Jim. He is a bank clerk in the City, and I suspect his presence in the circle is due more to his interest in the daughter of the house than in 'Rosalie.' Jim is a typical, gentlemanly bank clerk, aged about twenty-two.

After the introductions, I said I would make a tour of the house. I was accompanied by Mr. X. and Jim, and I explored the place from attics to area. I could go where I pleased, and asked to be taken to every room. I had brought with me a gimlet, screw-eyes, white tape, adhesive surgical tape, a dredger full of powdered starch, and a pocket torch (which I did not take into the séance-room). As I came to a window, I closed and fastened it and stuck a strip of tape (which I initialled in ink) across the join where the sashes met. In the case of two 'dormer'-type windows, I twisted the tape round the fasteners, and secured the initialled sticky ends to the window frames.

I scaled the three external doors and the French window of the house with screw-eyes, through which I threaded adhesive tape, tied in three knots, which I initialled. The staff of the house consisted of the parlour-maid (whom I had seen) and a cook, whom I saw in the kitchen. I was warned to drop no word concerning 'Rosalie.' The women knew that 'séances' were held in the house, but had not been informed as to what took place at them. They were instructed not to answer any knock or ring during the séance, and telephone callers were to be told to ring up later.

I now turned my attention to the drawing-room, where the séance was to be held, and I examined it with great care. It was nearly square, measuring twenty-four feet by twenty-one feet, by nine feet six inches high. In the bay of the window was a settee and against the opposite wall was a long mahogany sideboard with eight drawers. On a square occasional table near one corner was an electric transportable 'Pye' radio, plugged into a socket near the floor. From this same socket a wire led to a small electric stove in the opposite corner, the flex trailing across the hearthrug. In another corner was a round occasional table, supporting a work-basket. On the mantelpiece were a clock and some ornaments. Six solid mahogany chairs completed the furniture of the room - with the exception of an Airedale dog which was now lying in front of the electric fire, having just shifted his quarters from in front of the grate. There had been a big fire in the grate, but it had been allowed to go out. One element of the electric fire was switched on. The ceiling of the room was of plaster and there were six pictures on the walls, which were distempered. The curtains which screened the windows had been purchased specially for these séances. They were of thick, heavy material, suspended on rails, and the edges overlapped, effectively preventing any street light from entering the room. On the floor, composed of polished hardwood boards, were spread four large Persian rugs.

Controlling the Séance Room

Having assembled all the sitters in the room, I looked around to see what could be done without in the way of furniture, etc. I decided that the ornaments, clock, pictures, and work-basket were not wanted, and these were removed into the dining-room. Then I sprinkled starch powder in the hall outside the séance room door.

I then locked the door, put the key in my pocket, and proceeded to affix my seals. These were the usual tapes and screw-eyes. Then I stuck four strips of adhesive tape across door and lintel, and initialled them. I treated the windows in the same way, and was confident that no one could enter the room via door or window. But there remained the chimney, and for a moment I was puzzled as to how I could control it. Then I hit on the idea of placing a sheet of an evening newspaper (which I had with me) flat on the top bar of the low grate, just under the chimney aperture, and sprinkling it thickly with the starch powder. Then, with my finger, I drew my monogram in the starch, the printed matter beneath showing through. No one could have tampered with the grate or chimney without disturbing the starch.

Having sealed the windows, door, etc., I examined everything in the room very thoroughly. With the aid of Mr. X., I moved the large settee and the heavy sideboard. Each drawer was emptied. They contained such articles as clean table napkins, gramophone records (the gramophone was in an upper room) and the odds and ends that accumulate in every house - especially in drawers. The settee I turned upside down, trod on the two loose cushions, punched the canvas and webbing beneath and made the springs creak. Then we removed the four rugs and I minutely examined every inch of the polished boards, which I found were nailed, tongued and grooved. It was a well-built house, and I was unable to get my penknife blade between the boards, every one of which appeared as solid as a rock. To finish my inspection of the room, I opened the back of the wireless cabinet, and saw nothing unusual. In any case, I was informed that the radio was going to be used.

I had been told that I could examine the persons of the sitters before and after the séance, if I wished. I could not very well search the three ladies, but I asked permission to explore the clothing of Mr. X. and Jim, and they at once turned out their pockets. I ran my hands over their clothes and satisfied myself that they were concealing nothing which could be used to simulate a phenomenon. The two elder ladies realized my predicament in not being able to examine them, and we compromised by their agreeing to my request that I should sit between them. Miss X. had, it appeared, attended a 'health and beauty' class earlier in the evening and she had on some sort of gymnasium clothes under her house dress. Without my requesting it, she immediately pulled up her skirt and revealed a pair of tight-fitting dark knickers. I was quite convinced that she had nothing concealed on her person. My last act before switching off the five (four bracket and one ceiling) lights and the fire, was to sprinkle starch dust in front of the door and chimney, after directing the sitters to their seats. The arrangement of the chairs, and the general lay-out of the room can be seen from the plan which I made before the séance, reproduced herewith. It was exactly 9.10 p.m. when the séance began.

Building Up 'Rosalie'

The arrangement of the sitters (my arrangement, by the way) was as follows: I (A, see plan) sat with my back to the fireplace, with my hostess (F) on my right, and Madame Z. (B) on my left. Next to her was Miss X. (C), then Jim (D), and finally X. himself (E). Four of the luminous plaques, already mentioned, had been handed round, and they rested on the floor face downwards, by the sides of the chairs occupied by Madame Z, Mrs. X., Jim, and myself. The luminous surface of each plaque had been activated at an electric light bulb previous to the séance. We were informed (by Mrs. X.) that we could talk quietly unless told not to. There was neither hymn-singing nor prayers, nor any suggestion of the pandemonium which often accompanies a séance. Although it was pitch dark, I could accurately determine where a voice was coming from, and whose voice it was, and could even hear the breathing of the various sitters.

After chatting quietly for about twenty minutes, we were asked to stop and Mr. X. said he would put on the wireless. He left his seat and groped his way to the small table behind me, to my right. He had some difficulty in finding suitable music, which he finally received from a foreign station. The small lamps which lit up the stations panel also illuminated the room and I could see the sitters distinctly. Madame Z. appeared to be crying.

Within five minutes of turning on the radio, X. switched it off again and resumed his seat. Then we were asked to remain quiet. No one spoke. A little later I heard Madame Z. softly whisper 'Rosalie!' This was repeated, at intervals, for about twenty minutes. Sometimes Mrs. X. also called her. I could hear both Madame Z. and Miss X. sobbing quietly. I had been warned that the séance was of a sacred character, but I had not anticipated such a display of emotion. I could not help contrasting this sitting with the matter-of-fact laboratory experiments with which I was much more familiar.

The Coming of 'Rosalie'

It was a few minutes after I heard the clock in the hall strike ten that Madame Z. gave a choking sob and said something about 'my darling.' Mrs. X. leant towards me and whispered, '"Rosalie" is here - don't speak!' At the same moment I, too, realized that there was something quite close to me. I neither heard nor saw anything, but the sensation was an olfactory one - I seemed to smell something that was not there previously. It was a strange, not unpleasant smell. Everyone was silent except for the rather distressing emotion of the mother. I sensed, rather than knew, that she was fondling her child. The next sound I heard was a sort of shuffling of feet on my left at the same moment as something slightly touched the back of my left hand, which was resting on my knee (we were not holding hands in any way). It felt soft and a little warm. I did not attempt to feel what had touched me, but sat very still. Madame Z. continued to whisper to the 'child,' and her sobbing ceased somewhat.

After a few minutes, Mrs. X. asked the mother whether I could touch the 'materialization.' Permission was given, and I stretched out my left arm and, to my amazement, it came in contact with, apparently, the nude figure of a little girl, aged about six years. I slowly passed my hand across her chest up to her chin and cheeks. Her flesh felt warm, though (and this may have been imagination) not so warm as one would expect to find normal human flesh. I laid the back of my left hand on her right cheek: it felt soft and warm and I could distinctly hear her breathing. I then placed my hand on her chest again and could feel the respiratory movements. My hand travelled to her thighs, back and buttocks, then traversed her legs and feet. They were the normal limbs of a normal six-year-old. I estimated her height at about three feet, seven inches. I could feel her hair, long and soft, falling over her shoulders.

There are no words to express how I felt at the appearance of the form before me - or rather to the left of me. A supreme scientific interest, with a feeling of absolute incredulity, would best describe my reactions. I had not bargained for anything so wonderful (or so clever!) as this. But if I had been tricked, so had the mother, and that was unthinkable. She, at least, was not acting a part. I asked whether I could hold 'Rosalie.' I was told that I could move my chair nearer to the child and this I did. I was now able to use both hands and again felt every inch of that little form. If it is a spirit - I argued to myself - then there is no difference between a spirit and a human being. With my right hand, I lifted 'Rosalie's' right arm and felt her pulse. It appeared to be too quick and I estimated a rate of 90 to the minute.[5] I put my ear to her chest and could distinctly hear her heart beating. I then took both her hands and asked X., his daughter, and Jim to speak in order to prove their presence in their respective seats. They did so. I knew that Madame Z. and Mrs. X. were on either side of me, as I had only to put out my hand to touch them.

[5] I have since ascertained that the normal pulse rate of a child from 2 to 7 years is 100 to 90.

At this juncture I asked my hostess if Madame Z. would allow me to use the luminous plaque. After a little discussion it was agreed that both Mrs. X. and I should shine our plaques on 'Rosalie,' the stipulation being that we should begin at the feet of the form, and then later illuminate the upper part of the child. I picked up my plaque and in turning it over a soft, fluorescent glow flooded the feet of 'Rosalie.' They were the normal feet of a normal child. Mrs. X. held her plaque to the left side of the girl, while I illuminated the front of her. I could see the soft texture of the flesh, which appeared to be without a blemish. As our plaques travelled upwards the face of the form was revealed and we beheld a beautiful child who would have graced any nursery in the land. Her features were classical and she looked older than her alleged years. Her face appeared very pale, but the fluorescence would tend to 'kill' any colouring in her cheeks. Her eyes (they appeared to be dark blue) were bright with an intelligent gleam in them. Her lips were closed, with rather a set expression. Madame Z. said the examination must now cease as 'Rosalie was wanted.' As a special favour, I requested that I might put some questions to 'Rosalie' and this was granted with the remark that it was unlikely that she would speak that night.

'Rosalie' Speaks

If the reader were suddenly faced with an alleged spirit, what questions would he ask it? With some preparation, a series of useful inquiries could be drawn up, but on the spur of the moment it is extremely difficult to make proper use of such an opportunity - especially when the 'spirit' is so young and unsophisticated. However, I suppose I must have subconsciously imagined that the child was a real one; that it lived in a real place; and that it understood perfectly what I was saying. I found myself asking 'Rosalie' what I should ask any other little girl, who had come from some strange place and whom I chanced to meet. I was permitted one minute only in which to question her, and this is what I asked her:

'Where do you live, Rosalie?' (No answer.)
'What do you do there?' (No answer.)
'Do you play with other children?' (No answer.)
'Have you any toys there?' (No answer.)
'Are there any animal pets?' (No answer.)

The questions were asked deliberately and I paused between each one. 'Rosalie' simply stared and did not seem to understand what I was saying. I asked her a final question: 'Rosalie, do you love your mummy?' I saw the expression on her face change and her eyes light up. 'Yes,' she lisped. 'Rosalie' had barely uttered this single word when Madame Z. gave one cry and clasped her 'daughter' to her breast. Mrs. X. placed our plaques on the floor again and asked for complete silence - rather difficult as all the women in the circle were crying. I must admit that I was rather affected myself - it was a touching and pathetic scene.

In about fifteen minutes 'Rosalie' had gone. I neither heard nor felt anything of her leaving, but as the hall clock struck eleven, Mrs. X. informed me that the séance was over. X. switched on all the lights and invited me to make any search I liked. I examined all my seals and every one was intact. I again removed the furniture and examined the floor, sideboard, settee, etc., and found everything normal. The starch powder was undisturbed. Even the Airedale was still asleep in front of the cold electric fire. At least, the séance had not affected him. My host asked me to remove the seals - which I did - and he opened the door and rang for refreshments. While these were being brought, I accompanied Jim in another tour of the house. All my seals were intact. I remained at the house until nearly midnight, when I took my leave with many thanks for an extraordinarily interesting and puzzling evening.

December 16, 1937.

I began writing this report (which is printed verbatim and uncorrected) within two hours of the termination of the séance, in bed at the Royal Societies Club. I purposely wrote the report at once, while my impressions were still fresh. I feel I have not done justice in this report to the amazing events of last night, and I am still wondering if 'Rosalie' was a genuine spirit entity, or whether the whole thing was an elaborate hoax. If the latter, then the 'hoax' has been going on for years and no actress in the world could simulate Madame Z.'s poignant emotion. And where did the 'spirit' come from? These are questions which I shall have to think about, and answer. If I had witnessed the materialization of 'Rosalie' in my own laboratory, I should not hesitate to proclaim to an incredulous world that survival was proved. It is possible - though very doubtful - that last night's historic (as far as I am concerned) séance may be repeated under better conditions in a laboratory. But Madame Z. is convinced that 'Rosalie would be frightened away.' The sitting I have just attended is at least distinguished by the complete absence of blasphemous humbug and hymn-singing, which characterize so many pseudo-spiritualist séances run by rogues for profit. Looking at it in retrospect, I can think of several things I ought to have done that I did not do, and one of these is the taking of 'Rosalie's' finger-prints. I had ample opportunity, but no materials. Another thing I might have done was to have ascertained who the 'medium' was. Madame Z. herself denies that she is mediumistic, but I can think of no one else. Apparently, there was no medium.

Harry Price' Fifty Years of Psychical Research