In the year 1772, a train of transactions, commencing upon Twelfth Day,
threw the utmost consternation into the village of Stockwell, near
London, and impressed upon some of its inhabitants the inevitable belief
that they were produced by invisible agents. The plates, dishes, china,
and glass-ware and small movables of every kind, contained in the house
of Mrs. Golding, an elderly lady, seemed suddenly to become animated,
shifted their places, flew through the room, and were broken to pieces.
The particulars of this commotion were as curious as the loss and damage
occasioned in this extraordinary manner were alarming and intolerable.
Amidst this combustion, a young woman, Mrs. Golding's maid, named Anne
Robinson, was walking backwards and forwards, nor could she be prevailed
on to sit down for a moment excepting while the family were at prayers,
during which time no disturbance happened. This Anne Robinson had been
but a few days in the old lady's service, and it was remarkable that she
endured with great composure the extraordinary display which others
beheld with terror, and coolly advised her mistress not to be alarmed or
uneasy, as these things could not be helped. This excited an idea that
she had some reason for being so composed, not inconsistent with a
degree of connexion with what was going forward. The afflicted Mrs.
Golding, as she might be well termed, considering such a commotion and
demolition among her goods and chattels, invited neighbours to stay in
her house, but they soon became unable to bear the sight of these
supernatural proceedings, which went so far that not above two cups and
saucers remained out of a valuable set of china. She next abandoned her
dwelling, and took refuge with a neighbour, but, finding his movables
were seized with the same sort of St. Vitus's dance, her landlord
reluctantly refused to shelter any longer a woman who seemed to be
persecuted by so strange a subject of vexation. Mrs. Golding's
suspicions against Anne Robinson now gaining ground, she dismissed her
maid, and the hubbub among her movables ceased at once and for ever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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