Psychical literature, as a whole, is as wearisome as theological literature, as incredible but less amusing than the lives of the saints. We lack the quality, be it faith, hope or charity, which would enable us to share these strange excitements. The “exposers,” on the other hand, are too sturdy in their common sense. We hear the mallet fall, but we are not always sure that the eggshell is broken. It is a situation for the sceptic. In the late Lord Rayleigh’s presidential address to the Psychical Research Society we find that the sceptic has at last appeared. It is merely a record of his own experiences, very plain, very simple, and, like the experiences themselves, singularly elusive. Many years ago, in a friend’s rooms at Cambridge, he witnessed an exhibition of the powers of Madame Card, the hypnotist. When she had completed her passes over the closed eyes of those present she asked them to open their eyes. “I and some others experienced no difficulty; and naturally she discarded us and developed her powers over those--about half the sitters--who had failed or found difficulty.” From hypnotism he passed to spiritualism, his interest aroused by Sir William Crookes’ experiences. He induced the medium, Mrs. Jencken, and her husband, to visit his country house as guests. He describes the results as disappointing: I do not mean that very little happened, or that what did happen was always easy to explain. But most of the happenings were trifling, and not such as to preclude the idea of trickery. One’s coat-tails would be pulled, paper cutters, etc., would fly about, knocks would shake our chairs, and so on. I do not count messages, usually of no interest, which were spelt out alphabetically by raps that seemed to come from the neighbourhood of the medium’s feet. Perhaps what struck us most were lights which on one or two occasions floated about. They were real enough, but rather difficult to locate, though I do not think they were ever more than six or eight feet away from us. Another incident was the gradual tipping over of a rather heavy table at which they had been sitting. “Mrs. Jencken, as well as ourselves [i.e. Lady Rayleigh and himself. The husband was not admitted to these séances] was apparently standing quite clear of it.” He found it very difficult to reproduce the phenomenon himself, using both hands. He endeavoured to “improve” the conditions for some experiments. After being shown some writing, “supposed to be spirit writing,” he arranged paper and pencils inside a large glass retort, which he then hermetically sealed. Nothing then appeared on the paper at these séances. “Possibly this was too much to expect. I may add that on recently inspecting the retort I find that the opportunity has remained neglected for forty-five years.”