Margaretta Fox Kane.
In it we see a striking revival of the old Salem (and mediæval) spirit of animosity against the so-called “witchcraft;” a spirit which was perhaps stimulated by the same mistaken and misguided religious zeal which some couple of centuries before had hurried to the stake, the scaffold, or the nearest pond or river, many a poor victim to the unhappy and misunderstood gift of what we now know as mediumship. In the month of November, 1850, a mob attempt was made to destroy the life of Margaretta while visiting at the house of Mr. R. M. Bouton. The mob wascomposed of a very low order of society, and were urged to do the work by prompters, who kept themselves in the background. Though not on the same scale of dimensions in numbers, mother and I at a later day concurred in recognizing in the riotous mob in New York, in July, 1863, features in the conduct of the men and women (the latter seemed not less savage than the former) that curiously reminded us of the terrible scenes of West Troy. They had evidently been put up to regard this communication with spirits as deviltry which it was right and proper to crush out even by taking our lives. They doubtless supposed, that by destroying our lives the whole matter would be put to rest. Accordingly her (Margaretta)’s every movement was watched, so that it was not safe for her to leave the house unattended. Finally the house was forcibly attacked; but being well barricaded and garrisoned the ‘fort was held’ and the assassins were not successful. The following letter from Mr. Bouton will explain the facts:
“West Troy, November 13, 1850.
“My dear Mrs. Fish:We are endeavoring to make arrangements for Maggie to go to another place. If she has mentioned the name of the place to you, keep it a secret as you value her life. A deep plot is laid to destroy her. My house is beset every night by a most determined murderous mob; and we guard her every moment. We think if we can place her where we wish to, she will be safe. I shall defend her and her reputation at the risk of my fortune and my life. I will advise you of our progress; suppress the name of the place, if you can. I write with difficulty, not having rested for several nights. Five villanous-looking fellows are watching the house night and day. She has never left my house unattended, which has foiled them thus far. On returning late fromEast Troy, a few nights past, with my wife, her sister, Maggie, and myself, in our family coach, when we reached the river we found no boat. The five men above mentioned were there, and they tried to persuade my driver to go by the way of the long Troy bridge (agloriousplace for murder). We did not go, but they followed us home, and after we had retired attempted to break into the room occupied by Margaretta and my sister-in-law. They were furious on being defeated, and threw stones against the house and fired through the windows. I have procured means of defence, but we cannot sleep nights, and get very little rest during the days. They will, no doubt, return again to-night, but they will meet a warm reception, as many of our friends from East Troy will be with us. Last night Mrs. B. and Maggie went to the door of a shed in the rear together; but the fiends were on the watch and fired at them, with angry exclamations at there being some one with her. They were all large, strong men.”
A postscript to this letter, dated the next day, says:
“As I feared, the men did return last night, and broke into the house; but we were prepared for them, and they did not effect any thing. Come immediately, if you can.”
The mob increased on the following night (Saturday), and on Sunday I received five telegraphic despatches to come to Troy, as follows:
“Rochester, November 16, 1850.
“This despatch has been received from West Troy forMrs. A. Leah Fish.
“Send your mother here, or come yourself, by Monday night. It is of vital importance. Answer by telegraph at once.
“R. M. Bouton.”
On receipt of this telegram I immediately telegraphed to know its meaning, and received the following in reply:
“Rochester, November 16, 1850.
“This despatch has just been received from West Troy forMrs. A. Leah Fish.
“You must be here by Monday night, 18th inst. It is ofvitalimportance.
“R. M. Bouton.”
I then telegraphed back to Mr. B. begging him to explain the situation of my sister, when immediately I received the following:
“Rochester, November 17, 1850.
“This despatch has just been received from West Troy.
“Mrs. A. Leah Fish:
“Your sister is alive and well, but in great danger. Safe at present.
“R. M. Bouton.”
I started for Troy on the first train East the next morning. When I reached Schenectady I had to change cars for Troy.
I had just taken a seat, at about the middle of the car, when a rough-looking man sat down beside me, and commenced interrogating me as to where I was going, etc. I endeavored to be civil, but I suspected him of having something to do with the mob. After a while he left and held a long conversation with two men, near the front of the car, very like himself in appearance, and soon returned, taking his seat beside me again. I had moved to the other end of the seat, and maintained my position, thereby compelling him to press through in front of me with some difficulty. When again he attempted to speak to me I took up my satchel and left the seat entirely to himself.Heagainfollowed me, but this time I braced myself up and called the conductor (who had been watching his behavior all the way), and requested him to “compel this man to leave,” which he did immediately.
There were very few persons in the car; I think not more than seven in all. It was evident that he had a design against me; but he expected to meet an older person, and was thrown off his course by my youthful appearance. He had doubtless expected to meet mother. They had made inquiries of a passenger who had taken the car from Schenectady, and who afterward told Mr. B. that those men said they were expecting to meet a lady from Rochester; but that she was older than the lady on the car, etc.
It had been arranged that I should stop at the Troy House on my arrival at East Troy. It was eight o’clockP.M., and very dark. As I stepped out of the car on to the platform, I saw a carriage standing in front of the hotel, and supposed it was for me, as had been previously arranged. At this moment a gentleman stepped up, and after a close scrutiny said to me:
“I am right, it is Leah; I know you by your resemblance to Maggie,” and motioning me to silence.
Another gentleman stepped on my other side, and they guarded me to the carriage each with a drawn revolver. On entering the carriage I saw three loaded pistols lying on the seat in front of me. It is difficult to say which I most feared, the mob or the pistols. The religious telegraphic operator had evidently revealed the correspondence between Mr. Bouton and myself, as there was no other source through which it could have been made known that I was expected.
A number of disorderly persons followed the carriage and crossed the ferry with us. No attempt was made to disturb us; but on reaching Mr. B.’s house we found it surroundedby a reinforced mob. I had been instructed how to conduct myself on our arrival. I was told that two or three gentlemen would rush from the door and suddenly carry me in. Accordingly, when the carriage stopped close to the door steps I found myself in the arms of three strong men, who landed me safely. I found Maggie sick and nearly paralyzed with fright. There were strong-armed forces for protection on our side. We had not been in the house ten minutes when several shots were fired and stones thrown, breaking everything in their way. We crouched beneath the furniture, and lay on the floor to escape the bullets, expecting at every moment some stray shot or stone would strike us. (Our hiding-room was in the interior of the house.) The mob threatened and did all in their power to destroy us; but, knowing the gentlemen inside were so well prepared for them, they retired for the night. They, however, continued their watchfulness until we left the place. Mr. Bouton’s house stood in the outskirts of West Troy, near a lumber yard, a capital hiding-place for a mob, and I am not sure there were any policemen there at that time. Poor Maggie’s nerves were terribly unstrung. She would start in her sleep and cry out fearfully, believing she was still besieged by the mob. She was too ill to be taken home, and I managed (with the aid of friends) to get her to Albany, where we remained several weeks at the Delavan House. During our stay in Albany, the identical men who met me and followed me from Schenectady to West Troy were prowling about my home in Rochester. All the circumstances connected with the affair show conclusively that there was a deep-laid scheme to destroy us, and that these men had been appointed to accomplish that object; but, like every other attempt at violence against us, they met with nothing but discomfiture.
“The Rochester Knockings at Barnum’s Hotel”—Hard Work—Our Visitors—A Poisoned Bouquet—Hair of the Emperor Napoleon I.—Hair of John C. Calhoun—Investigation at Residence of Rev. Rufus W. Griswold, by the Leading Literary Celebrities of New York.
We arrived in New York City on June 4, 1850, and had engaged rooms at Barnum’s Hotel, corner of Broadway and Maiden Lane. (This proprietor must not be confounded with the great showman of that name.)
Horace Greeley was our first caller. He advised us to charge five dollars admission fee. I told him that would be altogether too much; but he feared greatly for our safety, and thought this exorbitant sum would keep the rabble away. I told him I thought it decidedly better to follow the directions of the Spirits, and trust in Providence for protection and success. He announced our arrival in theTribune, and published our rules of order. The editors of theTribuneand many other papers were in our rooms daily. Mr. Ripley used to say to us: “Ladies, you are the lions of New York.” Mary Taylor, in a Broadway theatre, sweetly sang “The Rochester Knockings at Barnum’s Hotel,” as a popular topic of the day. Many things in stores, on sidewalks, and newspaper advertisements, were paraded and labelled with the words “Rochester Knockings.”
What a time, to be sure, we had of it during that firstvisit, of nearly three months, to the great metropolis! Our party was seven in number. Our parlor was a large room opposite to the main one of the hotel, from which it was separated by a wide corridor. A long table with thirty seats occupied the centre of it, and we gave three receptions each day, for which our advertised hours were: 10 to 12A.M., 3 to 5P.M., and 8 to 10P.M.; but the midday meeting would often lengthen out till we had barely time to get ready for dinner, and the evening one to midnight. The public parlors served as ante-rooms, in which visitors waited their turns to be admitted by one of our attendant gentlemen. Private sittings were often extorted from us by importunity, which would begin at the earliest hours before breakfast. With what degree of exhaustion of muscles, nerves, mind and spirit, we would reach our beds (in our rooms on the floor above), where sleep was often slow to come to our over-strained systems, may be imagined by my readers. The mere pressure upon us of the three successive crowds would, alone, have been a strain hard to bear; but every individual had his or her colloquies to be held with their respective Spirit friends. The burthen of it fell upon us all, but most heavily upon our dear mother, who took it so deeply to heart when she knew we were so unjustly suspected and so severely tested. She was of course always present with us, but only as a spectator and for protection. Ministers of all denominations, members of all professions, legal, medical, literary, and commercial, were among our guests, and many of them were frequent visitors. The occasions were rare when the slightest want of courtesy, respect, and kindness occurred to wound or displease us; and the only thing approaching an indignity we had to complain of among ourselves, was the frequency with which committees of ladies would retire with us to disrobe and reclothe us, the holding of our feet, etc.
Among the thousands of strangers who streamed through our rooms, I, of course, could know or remember the names of but few individuals; and many an one had his or her designation by which we used to recognize them, as—the White Spirit, or the Black, or the Gray, the Count, the Slick Wig, the Old Oriental, the Hippopotamus, etc., etc. By the way, the Count was also an elderly gentleman with white hair and angelic eyes, a foreigner, who at parting made me a present of a set of old china of extreme rarity, for which I have since refused a dealer’s offer of a thousand dollars, and which I still employ at parties and fêtes, and particular occasions, and always with a kind thought of the dear old donor. The summer season of travel, of course, brought many Southerners to our rooms, as well as visitors from other cities of the Union.
We again passed through an ordeal of special investigation by a large committee of the first men of New York, in scientific and literary, as well as social distinction, which took place at the residence of the Rev. Rufus W. Griswold, for some account of which, and the signal triumph in which it resulted, I refer to a letter which will be foundfurther on, and which was extensively republished.
Only one very painful thing occurred: an anonymous present made to me of a large, superb bouquet of flowers, the smelling of which nearly cost me my life. I was thought to be at death’s door; and a week had passed before I fully recovered from the effect. Spirits told us that it had proceeded from the malignity of a hostile quarter, and that the bouquet was poisoned.
I have always had a peculiar sensitiveness to poison; and could not even now, in the open air, pass near to certain growing plants, such as poison ivy, without suffering sensibly from their vicinity.
There was another occasion on which evil was not onlyintended, but attempted, by some who falsely believed they were doing God service by breaking up the “pestilent Rochester knockings.” We, too, had our case of a “prophet” (Isaiah) sent to curse, but who remained to bless. Our “prophet,” of whom this was true, was none other than the famous Captain I. Rynders, well known as the Captain of the Empire Club—a Democratic party organization of “fighting men,” the counterpoise to a corresponding body on the other side of politics. These rival corps had, originally, for their business the breaking up of the meetings of the adverse party, or to defend those of their own party against similar attacks from the opposite fighting corps. Captain Rynders, though a rather slender man, was one of such pluck, energy, and resolution, that his very name came to represent a real power in New York. His politics, in which he was very zealous, made him (as most men of that day were, on both sides) very hostile to “the Abolitionists,” many a meeting of whom the Empire Club had broken up after the most summary of fashions, namely, through windows as well as doors. One day three men, one of them of Herculean proportions, with his shirt-collar wide open, sailor fashion, on a brown sunburnt neck, entered our parlor, after payment of their regular fee outside, and took their seats together; the Hercules next to me. His appearance was every way formidable. A certain slight commotion was manifest in the company on their entrance. I soon received from three different friends in the room (Mr. Greeley, George Ripley, and another) little billets warning me against “the most dangerous man in New York”—whose appearance “portended evil,” and telling me to be “extremely careful” of all I should say and do, etc. One lady bent over me from behind, handed me a bit of paper which spoke of “black danger clouds,” and a row as being imminent from “thosemen,” and then made her escape into one of the more remote parlors of the hotel. But they sat quietly as observers. There were several clergymen in the company, one of them being the celebrated Dr. Phelps, of Stratford, Conn. There were at the table also two elderly, tall, thin, and pale Quaker maiden ladies, a little ghostly perhaps in appearance, one of whom presently addressed to the Spirits the question, “Which is the more correct, the Bible or Andrew Jackson Davis’s Revelations?” To this came many raps, which were differently understood around the table, according to the various opinions. It made quite a sensation. I rose and said that those raps were not an answer to the question, but a call for the alphabet, which I proceeded to repeat aloud as usual. The answer returned was: “The Bible contains many true and beautiful things, and so also does Davis’s Revelations,” a reply which Dr. Phelps considered a good and wise one. I presently invited one of my three neighbors (not the Herculean one) to the door, which I opened, and he was made to hear loud rappings on the wooden panels, and also on the marble flooring.
My real object was to conciliate him as being one of the party of “danger clouds,” though he was not the one who had been the object of my terror. “What is the meaning of this?” he said. “Haveyouanything to do with the Rochester knockings? I thought those two white old maids were the ones. I was sent here by a religious society to break it all up, and drive it out of New York, as I did last week with Fred. Douglass and Julia Griffith, and their sets of Abolitionists.” I told him he had been very wrong in doing so, and that those ladies were strangers here, as he and his friends were. “What, areyouthe Rochester knockers?” “Yes.” “Why, I thought you were older. Ain’t you afraid of me? What, these children!” “No, I am not a bit afraid of you,” I repeated,though in my secret heart I was dreadfully afraid of the other man. “Well, I am Captain Rynders—haven’t you heard of me?” “Yes, I have, but I am not afraid of you.” He took a seat at the table, and I invited him to ask some questions of some friends of his in the Spirit world. He asked a brother of his where he had died—“In California,” was the correct reply. “Of what disease?” To this also he got a reply, which, with a strong blow of his fist on the table, he admitted to be correct.
Captain Rynders was now our friend, and a good and gallant one he proved. He made theHeraldpublish a long account of it in our favor; the only occasion of its doing anything of the kind. He said that nobody should molest us; that he saw no reason why it should be done, and he emphasized this with a strong blow upon the table. He was indeed surprised thatwewere the mediums; he had supposed them to be the old Quaker women over there (alas, poor good souls!). My relations soon became equally comfortable with his big friend also, of whom I had been so afraid. A letter for me was brought in and laid on the table between him and me. I noticed that he seemed to observe the direction on it somewhat closely. I presently handed the letter over to mother, saying, “Here is a letter from our dear friend Maria Rogers.” Said my big neighbor, “Why, where did you ever know Maria Rogers?” “In Albany, at the Delavan House, where her husband had some business position. She is one of the sweetest women I ever knew, and I love her dearly. She was also very beautiful.” “She is all that you say,” was his reply, “and she is my own darling sister.” The letter proved to be an invitation to spend Sunday with her at the Oceanic House. I had no further fear of her big brother, who, together with Captain Rynders, would certainly have pitched all the rest of the companyout of the window in our defence, had it been necessary. Such was the conversion of our “prophet,” from the cursing for which he had been commissioned, to blessings. I have since been assured by those who knew him, that Captain Rynders was really a good man at heart, with other manly qualities besides his courage, notwithstanding his animosity against the Abolitionists of that period, and others against whom the energies of the Empire Club had been directed by his party. I have some reason to believe that he has been a happier man from that time than before. I was sincerely glad to see him a few weeks ago, when he called on me, by my request, to compare notes upon our reminiscences of this adventure, and I was indeed astonished to hear so young a looking man avow that he was now eighty years of age.
At all our séances the general character of the manifestations was that all present heard the explosive sounds or “knockings,” whose significance resided in their correspondence with the letters of the alphabet; while each in succession had the opportunity of communicating with his own friends in the spirit life. Nor do I believe that a single person passed through the experience of one of those meetings who was not satisfied, in his own sincere mind, that we had nothing of physical relation to their production, and that no conceivable mundane means could have produced them.
Though in our own domestic experience remarkable phenomena of the physical order had often been produced by the Spirits, such, for instance, as the rising of objects in the air, including our own persons, etc., yet nothing of this kind occurred at these meetings, beyond the phenomenon of the sitters being touched, sometimes caressingly, by invisible hands, or having their garments pulled, or theirchairs or the table moved—which were frequent experiences to our visitors.
I cannot afford the space for numerous individual incidents of interest which occurred at those meetings, but will mention one, which is not likely to be forgotten by some of the witnesses to it, who may perhaps read this page. A stranger came one day, of evident distinction and advanced years, French, though speaking English; I have a vague impression that he was a diplomatist. He had with him a friend. He produced a folded paper or envelope, and asked if the Spirits could tell him what it contained. The answer promptly came, “A piece of the hair of the Emperor Napoleon.” This naturally arrested the eager attention of all the company. I trembled with doubt and fear of a failure. The old gentleman opened the paper and held up a small piece of hair, and, with tears in his eyes and quivering lips, said—either he had been one of those who accompanied Napoleon on his voyage to St. Helena, or that he was a friend of the physician who had accompanied him. After this lapse of time I am not certain which, but something was said about the physician. He told how on an occasion of his hair being cut by the barber, the fallen pieces had been religiously gathered up, and this was one of them. Turning to his friend who had come with him, he said, “I did not need this evidence, but this test is evidently intended for you;” and then explained that in the morning his friend, who was an entire unbeliever, had said, in reference to their intended visit to us, that if we were subjected to that test, and if it should be told what were the contents of the envelope, he would be a believer too. I remember that Mr. Greeley and Mr. Ripley, of theTribune, were present. If this should fall under the eye of any survivors of that scene, I should be pleased to hear from them. None present can have forgotten it.
There were a number of somewhat similar cases of treasured locks of hair being thus identified by those who had worn them in life, but though there are many whose hair is thus preserved by faithful memories, there has been but one Napoleon the Great.
However, I will further add that if there was but one Napoleon I., there was also but one John C. Calhoun. One day a Southern gentleman was at the table, and, having heard of the above incident respecting the great Emperor, produced and laid down his pocket-book, asking to know one thing it contained. “Hair of John C. Calhoun,” was the reply. He acknowledged its truth, and exhibited the lock.
During this our first visit to New York occurred another “investigation” by a number of the most eminent literary and commercial gentlemen of that city, at the residence of the Rev. Rufus W. Griswold. It included such men as J. Fenimore Cooper, George Bancroft, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. John W. Francis, William Cullen Bryant, Nathaniel P. Willis, Dr. Marcy, and others. It had its origin with the Dr. C. D. Griswold, M.D. (our friend at Rochester, mentioned on a former page), who came down to New York expressly to propose it to us, telling us that the high position of his brother, Rufus W., would enable him to unite for that purpose the best elements which the great metropolis could afford. We were only too glad to comply with so kind and friendly a suggestion. In the wilderness of my papers I do not find the full records of that interesting occasion, of which no full formal report was ever issued; but I well remember that it was highly satisfactory to ourselves and our friends. All the testings desired, such as making us stand on cushions, etc., were exhausted. I recollect that Fenimore Cooper addressed an immense number of questions to Spirits (my impression is a hundredand fifty), and received correct replies. I find among some newspaper scraps a long editorial in a Sunday paper, by its junior editor, written in the full vein of hostile persiflage usual at that time with the press, dependent for existence on its subscription lists, the following as its conclusion:
“Since writing the above, we have read in theTribunean account of an interview between the Spirits’ interpreters and Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper, Mr. George Bancroft, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. Francis, Mr. Wm. Cullen Bryant, Mr. N. P. Willis, Dr. Marcy, and other literary celebrities, at the rooms of the Rev. Doctor Griswold. The responses given to several of these gentlemen, as reported in theTribune, were most extraordinary; and yet—infidel that we are!—these replies have not shaken our obstinate incredulity.
“Our senses are the only witnesses we will consent to trust in relation to phenomena which, if really supernatural, would upset, among other things, the Christian Religion,[8]and the verdict of our senses upon all the performances which have come under our observation.”
Any reader desirous of examining theTribune’sreport above alluded to, can easily find it in the files of that paper for 1850. I content myself, for brevity’s sake, with the following extract from Mr. Capron’s volume on “Spiritualism: Its Facts and Fanaticisms,” etc. (1855), page 172:
“But curiosity had so far obtained the mastery of bigoted opposition as to lead many of the most eminent men of the city to give the subject a fair investigation. The result was, as elsewhere, the making of many converts; and these were not from among men of inferior intellects or of unbalanced minds.
“Not long after the arrival of the mediums, a number of literary gentlemen assembled at the house of Rev. Dr. Griswold, an Episcopalian clergyman, in Broadway. Neither of the sisters Fox had ever been at the house before, and the meeting was called for the purpose of testing, as far as they were able, the validity of these alleged manifestations. Among the company were J. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist, Mr. George Bancroft, the historian, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. J. W. Francis, Dr. Marcy, Mr. N. P. Willis, Mr. Wm. Cullen Bryant, the poet, and Mr. Bigelow, of theEvening Post, Mr. Richard B. Kimball, Mr. H. Tuckerman, and Gen. Lyman. These gentlemen were well known throughout the country, and the report was well calculated to carry much weight with it, let it be on which side it would. The result was highly satisfactory to the mediums and their friends. On this occasion Mrs. Fox and her three daughters were present. Mr. Tuckerman was among the first to interrogate the Spirits. Among his questions were the following in regard to an individual whose name he had not spoken, but had simply in his mind:
“‘Did he live in New York?’ No answer. ‘In Baltimore?’ ‘In Cambridge?’ ‘In Boston?’—Three distinct raps, which is the sign of an affirmative answer. A negative reply is indicated by silence. Mr. T. continued, ‘Was he a lawyer?’ ‘A merchant?’ ‘A physician?’ ‘A clergyman?’ Knocks. ‘Was he an Episcopalian?’ ‘A Presbyterian?’ ‘A Unitarian?’—going over the names of theprincipal sects. No answer. At the suggestion of a gentleman, Mr. T. asked ‘Was he a Christian?’ Knocks. Mr. T. then asked the age of the person in a series of tens. ‘Was he twenty years old at the time of his death?’ ‘Was he thirty?’ ‘Forty?’ ‘Fifty?’ ‘Sixty?’ Knocks. ‘Has he left a family?’ Knocks. ‘Children?’ Knocks. ‘Five?’ ‘Three?’ ‘Two?’ Knocks. ‘Did he die in Boston?’ ‘In Philadelphia?’ ‘In Albany?’ ‘In Northampton?’ ‘In Bennington?’ Knocks. ‘Did he die of consumption?’ ‘Of fever?’ ‘Of cholera?’ ‘Of old age?’ Knocks.
“The person in Mr. Tuckerman’s mind was the late Dr. William Ellery Channing, the eminent and liberal Unitarian divine. He lived in Boston, and died in Bennington, Vt., while on a journey.
“Dr. Francis having fixed in his mind the name of an individual, the ‘rapping’ spelled out B-u-r—when several of the company exclaimed, spontaneously, ‘Robert Burns.’ This was the true answer; and after an interesting interview with the bard of Scotia, the doctor declined asking any more questions.
“Mr. James Fenimore Cooper then asked, ‘Is the person I inquire about a relative?’ ‘Yes,’ was at once indicated by the knocks. ‘A near relative?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘A man?’ No answer. ‘A woman?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘A daughter?’ ‘A mother?’ ‘A wife?’ No answer. ‘A sister?’ ‘Yes.’ Mr. C. then asked the number of years since her death. Fifty knocks were given, and the number unanimously so announced by the company. Mr. C. now asked, ‘Did she die of consumption?’ and naming several diseases to which no answer was given. ‘Did she die by accident?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Was she killed by lightning?’ ‘Was she shot?’ ‘Was she lost at sea?’ ‘Did she fall from a carriage?’ ‘Was she thrown from a horse?’ ‘Yes.’
“Mr. Cooper here discontinued his investigations, and informedthe company that just fifty years ago that present month he had a sister thrown from a horse and killed, and that all the answers had been strictly correct.”
Mr. Ripley, one of the editors of theTribune, a man of candor and great intelligence, drew up the report of the whole proceedings, of which the above is but a short extract, and in conclusion he says:
“The evening was now far advanced, and it was not thought desirable to continue our colloquies any further. At the suggestion of several gentlemen, the ladies removed from the sofa, where they had sat during the evening, and remained standing in another part of the room. The knockings were now heard on the doors, at both ends of the room, producing a vibration on the panels which was felt by every one who touched them. Different gentlemen stood on the outside and inside of the door at the same time, when loud knockings were heard on the side opposite to where they stood. The ladies were at such a distance from the door, in both cases, as to render no countenance to the idea that the sounds were produced by any direct communication with them. They now went into a parlor under the room in which the party was held, accompanied by several gentlemen, and the sounds were then produced with great distinctness, causing sensible vibrations in the sofa, and apparently coming from a thick hearth-rug before the fire-place, as well as from other quarters of the room.
“Such are the most important facts which we can recall of the manifestations of the evening. We believe we have stated them without any coloring whatever, as they appeared to every one present; but, with regard to their origin or their nature, we are as much in the dark as any of our readers.”
I will add to the above but a few lines. After FenimoreCooper, and his responsive friends in the Spirit life, had occupied the floor, so to speak, for a long time, calls upon him began to arise as to whether any of his answers were correct. Of course he alone could know, since they were in the form of raps. Old Dr. Francis, who had sat with his chin resting on his big cane, and his eyes intently fixed on Mr. Cooper, as had been the eyes of all the company, began knocking impatiently on the floor, which example was followed by others, as in the case of an impatient audience at a theatre. At last Mr. Cooper gave satisfaction to their curiosity, now wound up to a high pitch, by saying: “Gentlemen, every single answer has been correct.” This was of course no small relief and satisfaction to us.
And it was a still greater satisfaction when, after his death in September of the following year, I received a visit from Mr. Cooper’s nephew, with a note from the great novelist, one of the last things written by his prolific pen, and a message from him on his death-bed, substantially as follows: “Tell the Fox family I bless them. I have been made happy through them. They have prepared me for this hour.”
[8]This is a mistake or misrepresentation frequent with those who regard dogmatic “orthodoxy” (according to the title it claims) as the true and the only “Christian Religion.” All Spirits indeed reject the dogmas of the eternal hell-fire, of total depravity, of vicarious atonement, of anything but One Supreme Spirit or God, and of the literal plenary inspiration of the Bible; but a vast body of the most enlightened Spiritualists (I believe the bulk of them) devoutly cherishthe Christianity taught, lived, and died for by Christ himself; and a pamphlet by a well-known and popular Spiritualist is rightly entitled “Christ the Corner-Stone of Spiritualism.”—Ed.
[8]This is a mistake or misrepresentation frequent with those who regard dogmatic “orthodoxy” (according to the title it claims) as the true and the only “Christian Religion.” All Spirits indeed reject the dogmas of the eternal hell-fire, of total depravity, of vicarious atonement, of anything but One Supreme Spirit or God, and of the literal plenary inspiration of the Bible; but a vast body of the most enlightened Spiritualists (I believe the bulk of them) devoutly cherishthe Christianity taught, lived, and died for by Christ himself; and a pamphlet by a well-known and popular Spiritualist is rightly entitled “Christ the Corner-Stone of Spiritualism.”—Ed.
[8]This is a mistake or misrepresentation frequent with those who regard dogmatic “orthodoxy” (according to the title it claims) as the true and the only “Christian Religion.” All Spirits indeed reject the dogmas of the eternal hell-fire, of total depravity, of vicarious atonement, of anything but One Supreme Spirit or God, and of the literal plenary inspiration of the Bible; but a vast body of the most enlightened Spiritualists (I believe the bulk of them) devoutly cherishthe Christianity taught, lived, and died for by Christ himself; and a pamphlet by a well-known and popular Spiritualist is rightly entitled “Christ the Corner-Stone of Spiritualism.”—Ed.
Letters and Newspaper Articles Respecting our New York Campaign—Letter from Amy Post—Letters from John E. Robinson—Article from a Sunday Newspaper—From the New York Day-Book—Letter from Dr. C. D. Griswold—Letter from Jacob C. Cuyler—Article by Horace Greeley—Poem from the Sunday Dispatch.
Such was our first campaign in New York, through all the hot months of that summer of 1850. Toward the close of September our friends, as well as ourselves, recognized the necessity for us of some rest and recuperation, and we decided to return to Rochester. But before being allowed to do so, our kind and devoted friends, Mr. and Mrs. Greeley, insisted on our spending a fortnight with them at their home in Nineteenth Street. We also spent a week with other friends at Greenpoint. But this did not afford much relief to our overwrought brains and bodies, because Mr. Greeley’s hospitable house was a centre of visiting to the literary circles of New York, and Spiritualism and its manifestations, for the satisfaction of their visitors, were almost as much the order of our days as had been the case at Barnum’s Hotel, among countless more. Bayard Taylor was at that period very earnest in his investigations, and was a daily frequenter of the house. At last we were suffered to tear ourselves away from New York; and ah, what sighs of relief we breathed when we got back to our dearly beloved Rochester, where we resumed our former happy domestic life, in which we alldivided our days, going at pleasure to and fro, between my house on Troup Street and the farm, the homestead and father’s house, now a sort of adjunct to the latter; every one of which dwellings was always an open house to any one of the family.
This affords a convenient point at which to introduce a few out of the many letters from valued friends referring to our time and experiences in New York. I give the first place to one from that best, sweetest, and noblest of women, Amy, wife of Isaac Post, friends in the double sense of intimacy, and the denominational one, for both she and her husband, who were all but second parents to me, were, as they still are, perfect specimens of the ideal Quakerism.
“Rochester, N. Y., May 30, 1850.
“Dear Leah: I have very often thought of you since you left our goodly city, and have as often desired to communicate with you, but I hardly know where to direct a letter to find you; though I might have known that your movements would be slow, for strange, indeed, it would be if you did not find people enough, in every place you visited, interested in the remarkable phenomena that attend you, to keep you a long time. It is almost useless to say that we always rejoice whenever we hear of your prosperity, either temporally or spiritually; and while we do exceedingly miss you and feel your loss, we are thankful that you are affordingothersthe privilege of witnessing what we have so often enjoyed. When will you find a stopping place? Sometimes I thinknot this side of Europe, but perhaps my ideas are too boundless. You, and the good angels that are with you, can better tell; but wherever you may go, my heart and good wishes go with you. John E. Robinson kindly read to me some parts of thy letter. I was very grateful for thy kind remembrance ofus, and much pleased to hear, from thy own pen, of your comfortable situation, company, etc.
“Please present my love to thy mother, Calvin, and both the dear girls. Willet says, ‘I want to see Leah and Margaretta.’
“Thy affectionate friend,“Amy Post.”
The following two are from a true and lifelong friend (also in the twofold sense), John E. Robinson, of whom I could not, with either justice or truth, speak in terms any less strong than those above applied to my beloved Amy and Isaac Post.
“Rochester, Friday, June 21, 1850.
“Dear Friend Leah:Your anxiously looked for letter came to me Thursday morning last, and gave me a great deal of pleasure in the reading. It was worth more than all the newspapers I have seen in a twelvemonth, because it gave me an interior view of your temporary home, and a sketch of several things which I wanted to know something of. It was all of interest to me, from the top of the first page to the last line of the tenth; and I promise not to scold you any more, for I observe much of it was written during late hours of the night, when you could not help but be worn with fatigue. The only wonder is that at such time you could find room in your memory for me.
“By the way, Leah, what think you Mr. Jones told me? a bit of gossip about you and a millionaire, somewhere about Troy, or Albany. He told it as a special secret, and left me to make the most of it. It is capital. When doyougo off? I shall be expecting a delicate note on satin paper, addressed to me, tied with a love-knot of matrimonial ribbon, stating when you will be ‘at home.’ Very well, do as you think best. It’s no use for me to cross your path when you get fairly ‘on a train,’ and, so far as my advice is concerned, I think you are smart enough in such matters, and can only say to you, as the lawyer said to the young man who taught him a lesson in roguery, ‘You need no lesson from me.’
“I was pleased with the account of your ramble in Hoboken, but wish you had taken some other day for the excursion, as the one in question always brings there such a crowd of the ‘lower ten.’ I hate crowds! though even in them there is a difference. Commend me to a mass of Sunday-clad peasantry rather than a crowd of the lower strata of New York—or the equally unpleasant sham aristocracy of Rochester.
“I remember those shaded walks of Hoboken. They are among the beautiful things and pleasant places, the memory of which is stored away in my attic story. I suppose you will see all the points of attraction before you turn your steps homeward. You will not go further eastward, I suppose. If you should go to Boston, go by way of Newport, and visit its beach. That famous beach, at the hour of early morning or just at evening twilight, is one of the grandest sights I ever looked upon. I won’t attempt to describe it to you; but, if youcansee it, the memory thereof will not die out from your mind. The eye and the ear have kindred offices. They are, both of them, organs through which the soul within us takes cognizance of beauty. The magnificent stave of music which has once trembled on the tympanum, is forever prisoned in the spirit—‘a thing of beauty;’ and so each glorious form of nature on which the eye has rested, while thespirit drank in its inspiration, remains ‘a joy forever.’ Andthiswe call Memory. Why do we call it so? Because it is one of those mysterious powers of the human soul for which we have no other name.
“But I am forgetting what to say to you.
“Your particular mention of a number of your visitors is very agreeable to me. What a pity I cannot accept your invitation, and spend a week with you. You must remember everything you see and hear, and tell me all when you come home. I am very glad you like Mr. Hopper. He is a queer fellow—when he has a mind to be. He can veil the greatest amount of fun under the most serious face, of any one I know. He carries a ‘band of music’ under that Quaker physiognomy of his. I have often been talking to him seriously, and stopped short to tell him I could not read him. I did not know whether his thoughts were mine or exactly the opposite. His remarkable father, Isaac T. Hopper, is one of the noblest-hearted beings in this wide world. His whole life has been marked by acts of most perfect benevolence and devotion to the cause of Truth and Humanity. I was pleased with N. P. Willis’s article inThe Home Journal, though written in his peculiar vein, and regret to learn that he has been subjected to such an outrage at the hands of the actor Edwin Forrest. I know nothing of Willis’s morals, but should suppose him above anything mean, or what would render him justly amenable to the censure of those who have long admired him as a leading journalist and charming writer. It is a sad, sad day for a man or woman who have made for themselves a home in thousands of hearts, and ministered to us in our holiday hours, when he or she stoops from that admired eminence, and becomes a thing for scorn to point its finger at. I will not believethisof Nathaniel Parker Willis—theauthor of a thousand gems of thought which he has scattered up and down in my memory like spring flowers.
“Our daily press is just what it was. You cannot expect anything else from papers with little talent, and no courage, at the editorial helm.
“If you come across such a man as Horace Greeley will recommend as one of his own stamp, tell him Western New York wants a journalist who is up and dressed and afraid of nobody; and if he will come out here, and pitch into ’em, he will make his fortune and serve the country. I’ve a thought in my mind, and will give it to you for what it is worth.
“Soon after the meeting at Doctor Griswold’s, I saw in the N. Y.Evening Post(what was very proper—so far as it went, because it did not chargeyouwith originating these phenomena, but only disclaimed belief in their Spiritual nature), a sort of disclaimer evidently by one of the persons present who took the privilege of speaking for the others (or most of them). Now the fact is that, if anything which has engrossed a large share of public attention is really worthy of serious investigation, theresult of such investigationis equally worthy to be made publicly known. And as the prominent minds in New York can most effectually do this, they, or those of them who have had the opportunity to arrive at fair conclusions, ought to be willing to state that result in explicit language, over their proper signatures. It would be but a simple act of justice to you; a satisfaction to the multitudes who are prevented, by a thousand considerations, from seeing you; and no dishonor to them. Before you leave, if it meets the approbation of your best friends, I would have it done. It would give you avantage ground, from whence you could all look down upon the miserable scribblers who have been eking outtheirexistence by abusingyou.Write soon, and tell me what has transpired since your last letter.
“My love to you all.
“Yours truly,“J. E. Robinson.”
“Rochester, July 28, 1851.
“Dear Friend Leah:
“Your welcome letter came to me last Tuesday. I have been very anxious to hear from you. You write so seldom, and I am always anticipating your letters long before they reach me. I am sorry to learn that you have been afflicted, but frequently wonder you are not all sick from the effect of continued application to the duties which devolve on you. I sympathize with you often in your thousand and one perplexities of mind and body. It gives me pleasure to know that the friends stand by you through all trials; and you will, I doubt not, find in your mind that appreciation of them that will secure a pleasing recollection when you shall have left them.
“You say that ‘you all wish to come home, and will probably returnsoon.’ Now, I wish I could believe that word has any significance in such connection; but it has become such a misnomer, in Spiritual things, that it is a great sinner.
“Sometimes I shut out the reality of things around me, and fancy you all here again. For the moment, I am pleasingly deceived, and again I stand within the charmed circle of the Rochester Seeresses. I hear your bursts of laughter, and look deep into your dark eyes to read what manner of thought is passing behind the Spirit windows. You are glad to see me. Maggie and Kate also give a like evidence. But I am only dreaming; you are away, andas far off as you were two months ago. I have little expectation of seeing you in less than two months; there are reasons which will keep you away so long, notwithstanding you speak of coming home. But I don’t wish to hasten you. You know what is best, and will act accordingly. I should be sorry if you should do anything that you would afterward regret.
“The most familiar Spiritualists—if that term is proper, now hold weekly sociables here. We have met but twice as yet, but design continuing them each Sunday evening. The last Sunday and this we met at the house of Mr. Granger, and passed the hours very much to our satisfaction. There were present Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Post, Mr. Hammond, Mr. W. A. Langworthy, Mr. Jarvis, Mr. Edward Jones, George Willets, Mr. Rich, and the writer of this. The design is to have these meetings tend to the mutual improvement of those present. They partake more of a social and conversational than what would be called a religious character; opportunities for the interchange of views in reference to Spiritual things. It is similar to the association in Springfield, which Mr. Munn alluded to when here. By the way, Mr. Munn has sent me the prospectus of a weekly paper—The Spirit Messenger, to be issued at Springfield next month. His motive is not speculation, as any one may well judge who knows what an up-hill business the advocacy of advanced truth is in this our age. You and your friends in New York must send on to him a list of subscribers. I hope it will be sustained by the many who are seeking for light on this and kindred subjects of deep interest. If, as intended, it covers the field heretofore occupied by the miraculous, it ought to be sustained.
“Your house on Troup Street has been closed so long it will require seeing to before you go into it. You oughtto send word several days before you reach here, in order that it may be properly ventilated. If you can do so, some of your friends will attend to it.
“As ever, your friend,“John E. R.”
The following is anonymous from a Sunday newspaper, the name of which I am not now able to give:
“We paid a visit on Sunday last to the Rochester ladies (at Barnum’s Hotel), so celebrated in this world, and in the world of Spirits, for the extraordinary revelations made to them through the remarkable knockings or sounds which have excited so much attention.
“They appear to be intelligent persons, and there is little, if anything, in their manner that looks like simulation or imposture. We are a perfect heretic in all such beliefs, and never did have faith in anything that we could not understand. As to ghosts, spectres, witchcraft, or Spirits from the other world, we have never believed in any of them, consequently it cannot trouble us if we are occasionally deceived; and we are seldom vexed at being hoaxed in anything. We have attained a period of such wonderful discoveries in science and the arts—we accomplish so many extraordinary triumphs and unaccountable enterprises in the present age—that our motto is ‘nil admirari.’ Let us see all that is to be seen as quickly as possible, before we shake off this ‘mortal coil.’ After steam and the telegraph, we are ready to believe anything. The Spirit who makes knocks for these young ladies seems to be a familiar one, for it has followed them from Rochester and knocks in every part of Barnum’s Hotel, corner of Broadway and Maiden Lane.
“The sounds, on the occasion of our visit, seemed to proceed from several parts of the room, near the table and in the next apartment. We thought with Hamlet, ‘Be thou a spirit of hell or goblin damned,—Bringest thou airs from heaven or blasts from hell,—Be thy intents wicked or charitable,—Thou com’st in such a questionable shape, that I will speak to thee!’
“The first idea that struck us was to inquire of our old friend, Tom Paine.
“We wrote down his name and the names of several cities, and asked where he died. The Spirits knocked ‘at New York.’ We then inquired how old he was when he died. The familiars knocked seventy times. This was pretty near. We asked if he voted for the death of Louis XVI.? It rapped ‘No.’ The old sinner! This was perplexing and strange, yet it made no impression upon us. A clergyman whom we have known as possessing a clear, strong mind, brought in his pocket a family daguerrotype, and respectfully requested the Spirits to state how many figures were in it, when the number was rapped correctly. He then asked how many of the six had died, and the number was again rapped correctly. We saw the table at which we sat and the door opposite vibrate with the knocks, and yet we saw none that we could suspect of collusion. It is evident, however, that the minds of all present must harmonize, and there must be quietude and union of the nervous fluid to develop striking and wise answers to questions—particularly of a domestic character. The young ladies moved about the room, apparently independent, and it was clear thattheywere not knocking,whoever was; and as to concealment and emissaries in a large bustling hotel, with bells ringing, waiters running about, chambermaids and lodgers constantly on the move, it is entirely out of the question. So we came away utterly disbelieving in allsupernatural agency, and, at the same time, unable to say how any human means could be used without detection. The powwowings and witchcraft which prevailed so long in New England among our ancestors are now at an end. Our homes are no longer disturbed with an unaccountable noise, as of old; our children do not vomit crooked pins and tenpenny nails; nor have we either magic or sorcery. We no longer have those spirits which the Rosicrucians tell us inhabit the elements: sylphs, gnomes, nymphs, and salamanders. Yet, grave and earnest men have, of old, believed in witchcraft, and many at this day believe in this Spiritual communion with the dead, as well as in these mysterious knockings.
“We, however, are not of that number; but would not censure or condemn those who are. The world is curious—these knockings are curious—and these young ladies are worth seeing, and the mysterious worth hearing. Then let them pass for what they are worth.”
“The Rochester Knocking Girls.”
“O ho! you are all coming into it are you?
“It is somewhat amusing to see editors of papers, distinguished men, literary characters and others coming into the belief of Spiritualism, or mysterious knockings; eating their own words and swallowing Spirits, girls, knockers and all. We say that it is amusing—itwouldbe amusing, were it not disgusting to see men, who pretend to possess an ordinary share of intelligence, so completely stultify themselves—as many of these characters have.
“More than six months ago these knockings commenced in Rochester, and a committee, composed of the most respectablecitizens of that city went into a thorough examination of the cause of them, and reported to the world the result of that examination. In that report they tell us all and more than we have heard or seen since the girls have been in this city, and conclude by exonerating the girls from practising deception or fraud in any of their exhibitions.
“After reading that report, the writer of this went to Rochester and visited the girls: the result of that visit he published in theDay-Bookwith just as much expectation of his statements being believed as if he had said that the cars ran off the track, or that he crossed Seneca Lake on board of a steamboat. What was his surprise to find that not one in twenty believed a word of them.The Journal of Commerce,The Courier,The Express,The Christian Intelligencer, and in fact all the papers in the city amused themselves and their readers by making fun of the whole matter. When we met a friend he would accost us with, ‘Well, you have been to see the Rochester knockings, have you?’
“‘Yes sir,’ would be our answer.
“‘Well, what do you think of them?’
“‘I think just what I have written and published!’
“‘Stimson—you don’t pretend to believe in that humbug?’
“‘I believe that I heard the knockings, and that the girls had no direct agency in making them.’
“An incredulous stare full in the face, the cheeks filled with wind, and a sudden bursting into a wild ironical laugh would follow, and the friend would turn away with, ‘Well, Stimson, I am used up; if you are so easily humbugged as that I have nothing more to say.’
“This manifestation of utter disbelief in the whole thing, we must acknowledge, nettled us a little, and we concluded to ‘shut up,’ and deny that we believed in anything. Webegan to doubt that we had been to Rochester at all, and as for seeing the girls or hearing the knockings, we were ready to swear as bravely and boldly as Peter (and with the same truth) that we knew nothing about them.
“Well, time passed on, the papers had their fun, and the girls are here. What sayThe Journal of CommerceandThe Expressnow? Do they call it all humbug? O no! some of our great men have been to see and hear for themselves, and instead of calling it humbug swallow it without gulping. Of courseThe Journal of Commercecan’t go against the great men, andThe Express, never having had an opinion of its own, follows on the back track as tamely as an ass colt.”
The Rappings in New York.
“To the Editor of the Evening Mirror: Now that a considerable number of ‘the wise men of the East,’ even of Gotham, have been permitted to hear the veritable ‘rappings’ which so confounded the ‘foolish’ and ‘credulous’ people of the ‘West,’ I do not see that they are any more successful in discovering the machinery, wire-work, or other means of collusion to which these phenomena have been attributed (by those who have never witnessed them), than were their western neighbors. All, or nearly all those who have investigated this matter with any honesty of purpose, have found it far exceeding their conceptions. There is often a truthfulness and exactness in these communications which are perfectly astounding, and when failures do occur they can readily be accounted for if it is admitted that they are addressed to an intelligence which reads the most secret thoughts. What is the nature of this intelligence which tells us our thoughts when sincere,and regards them not when called for with a trifling or dishonest purpose? Can it be the keen-sighted perception of the parties interested? Can it be explained by the principles of mesmerism, or is it supernatural? These are the questions to be answered. Those who cannot control their thoughts from the observations of others, may be satisfied with the first; those who do not take into consideration the physical demonstrations, may consider the second an explanation; but to explain all, it may be doubted, as some do, that the power exists in the supernatural world. This is anything but an age of reason. ‘Opinion’ has gained the ascendancy and sits upon ‘reason’s throne,’ and with an assurance incompatible with everything but ignorance, despises ‘facts’ and evidence. Strange and mysterious as this matter is, many of the phenomena are settled ‘facts’ which plainly contradict the vague ‘opinions’ set afloat by those who know little of what they talk or write about. Take, for instance, a note—published inThe Evening Post—by a person who was present at the interview for the investigation of the subject, at the rooms of Dr. Griswold, in which he says that ‘all the persons present on that occasion (whom he has since seen) are of the opinion that the phenomena, or knockings, were electrical, and the answers accidental.’ These may not be his precise words, yet they embody correctly his expression; but they are incorrect in fact, and in their implication; as all of the persons then present have not been consulted, far less have they given an unanimous opinion as above expressed.
“Before any one adopts the ‘opinion’ that these sounds are electrical, would it not be well to show how they can be produced while the three persons on whom they are attendant are insulated several feet apart; how electricity can be so harnessed to tables, chairs, and other things, as to move them about, or hold them in their places so thatno human arm can stir them, or produce a concussion equal to what would require the force of a strong arm to accomplish and with the aid of a heavy instrument; without saying anything of the still more wonderful manifestations indicating intellectual direction. Any one who can give the rationale of all this, upon electrical principles, will undo some of the established and known laws, and discover to the world not only the means for converting this subtle agent intoan intelligentmotive power, but also to give it the skill of a masterly engineer.
“The assumption that the correct answers given to questions that evening—though not remarkable, comparatively—were ‘accidental,’ bears absurdity upon the face of it. Such ‘opinions’ throw no light upon the mystery, but leave it still more inexplicable to the general intelligent mind.
“Of thousands who have now witnessed these phenomena, almost every one at first regarded the idea that these parties were not directly the operators, as most preposterous. But since what is called a ‘public opinion’ has become pretty well established, the rest of the world fall in, and see nothing very strange in them—after all. And thus it would be with the next point, or the claim of Spirituality, were it only understood that the immaculate judge, ‘public opinion,’ had decided in its favor. Such is the value ofopinionin a large sense. If the truth is told of other days, mankind valued their opinions, and kept them to themselves. But not so now. The article is known to be valueless; and each one seems desirous of getting rid of his stock. At no age of the world didcharlatanismmake more rapid strides than it does at present; so that, it seems, the same traits of character which render us the subjects of deception, make us slow to embrace truth; and for the reason, as I conceive, that ‘facts’ and ‘evidence’are less an element in the ‘foundation’ of opinions than are prejudices, preconceived notions, personal interest, and the fear of being laughed at.
“The philosophy of the Sunday Press upon this subject has sustained the well-known character of those journals; to say the least, they have been very spirited. Religion which has been arrayed against God, is the devil’s weapon, andThe Heraldborrowed it for the first onset; ‘seriously’ fearing that this subject would be made to overthrow the good results which sound education and true Christian piety might accomplish. Pray, what wouldThe Heraldhave to fear from such a result? Its premises would be exempt from any change by such a revolution, and it would, no doubt, add to its subscription lists.
“There is one cheerful inference to be drawn fromThe Herald’sposition with regard to this subject; that is, that the devil has no meddling with the matter. By the way, this calls to mind another distinguished individual—Dr. David Meredith Reese—who has the advantage of a longer name, if not quite so notorious, the great expounder of humbugs.
“He has promised to show up the deception upon the first opportunity, and people would have great confidence in his experience. Come forward, doctor, and redeem your pledge; or take back your unmanly imputations; but, for the credit of the thing, do not say that you believe in its verity.
“C. D. Griswold, M.D.”
The following is from the editor ofThe Albany Express, before mentioned in connection with the visit of the judges and lawyers at Albany.
“Albany Morning Express Office,“June 9, 1850.
“Mrs. Fish:
“After reading an account of your meeting at the house of the Rev. Dr. Griswold, in Broadway, New York, accompanied as it was by many very satisfactory, and I trust convincing, manifestations, I have experienced a species of gratification which I can call nothing more nor less than revengeful. Those who have scoffed and scouted the idea of ‘Spiritual communications’ were modest enough in their prejudiced opinions to style me fanatic and chimerical; and some, more unscrupulous than their brethren, even hinted that no respectable paper would devote its columns to the dissemination of such doctrines throughout the world. But ‘Truth is mighty, and will prevail.’ Choosing rather that time should vindicate the ‘Spirits,’ than that our own feeble efforts should act as their defender, we have waited with some anxiety the result in New York City. When, therefore, we learned that such men as Mr. Cooper, Mr. Tuckerman, Dr. Frances, and others of like stamp, had received such demonstrations as are recorded in the public journals of that city, I took the liberty of adding some considerable to my diminutive stature. I walked about with all the assurance of a millionaire, and just at the nick of time, whom should I come in contact with but the unbeliever Hastings, ofThe Knickerbocker. Triumphantly I held up before his astonished gaze the record, and exultingly asked him whether those men were fools, lunatics, or fanatics? I had him there, and all he could say in reply was—Humbug.
“Well, that was as much as I expected, and laughing at his stubborn ignorance I left him.
“I see that even Bennett, ofThe Herald, has somewhat changed his tone, and that he speaks quite favorably of theaffair. He will be compelled to do more than all this, I hope, before long, or many weeks roll over his head. The press generally in New York, I am happy to see, are acting very kindly toward you, and I only wish that all may receive entire satisfaction in their investigations. With us, all remains as usual. Many who seemed to manifest but little interest in the affair while you were here have, since your departure, evinced a desire to see and investigate. So will it be everywhere, and among all classes. The Switch still speaks of ‘Yaupy’[9]and the Spirits with contempt; but I believe ‘Yaupy’ suffers nothing from his efforts. He still seems to be in the enjoyment of health, and althoughseldom known to smile, he can laugh with more freedom than is his usual custom.
“Do you think of stopping in our city before you return to Rochester? I hope so.
“I have heard that Margaretta has been unwell since your arrival in New York, but presume her recovery is complete. Present my kind regards to your mother and Maggy and Catty.
“Hoping to see you in New York before you leave, I remain
Yours respectfully,“Jacob C. Cuyler.”