‘Oh, star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered thereTo bring us back the tidings of Despair?’
‘Oh, star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered thereTo bring us back the tidings of Despair?’
‘Oh, star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered thereTo bring us back the tidings of Despair?’
“Science has, as I apprehend it—and I would not be erroneous in my judgment, nor willingly harsh—generally impressed the intellects of its votaries in such a manner as to lead them intellectually to findnothing beyond the elemental matter of the Universe as their eyes behold it. Exceptions there have been, and are, to this general charge; but they are rare. To refer in especial to the fact stated (without being ungenerously personal), I may add that the acknowledged highest and most accomplished medical authority in New York to-day (so I am informed) hesitates not to aver, as his best and highest conviction, that when a human body is thoroughly dissected upon his table, he has shown to his class of students allthat was or isof the specimen of humanity, save the extinct principle of animal existence.
“This is simply bald, blank atheism!
“It is an undoubted fact that such an opinionmay be heldby many a man of sincerity; but such products have been initiated by the gross sensuousness of the religious thought, that has givenform and substanceto what should never have been considered as coming within the range of things designated by and possessing those attributes.
“Let me explain, if I can, to the comprehension of suchas may, perchance, read this, the nature of the Faith that is in me.
“I am willing in my elder days to live by it, and to be judged of it by the enlightened convictions of my fellow-men while I live upon this earth, and by that Deity in whom I verily believe.
“I know—we all know—of the imperious forces of nature which rock a continent or roll back an ocean from its shores.
“We also know something of gigantic and of microscopic life; of the intelligence of animated nature, through all its varied and wonderful forms; we know and study the wonders of the human intellect, even from (I might almost say) the first dawn of life.
“We are all, more or less, conversant with the action of principles which inhere in many species of vegetable life, in which we note a rare and exquisite faculty of sensation, which mirrors in its perfection the faculty of human consciousness, and human ingenuity.
“We look, not upward nor downward—for those terms are inadmissible in this connection—but outward from our standpoint; and what do we see? The heavens, as the ancients called what their limited vision revealed to them. Under Galileo’s lead we look again, aided by the telescope of moderate power, and, beyond that gathered in our first field of sight, we find another countless host of stars. Tired with the result we think and rest. Recuperating our wearied eyes, we substitute an instrument of higher power, and again peer into the realm of Infinitude. And again another congeries of stars is opened to our human vision. Repeat the process as we may, and as often as we choose, increase the penetrating power of our instrument, the same fact remains. There is no end, no limitation. But in all these results of our inquisitorial efforts we discover onepreponderating law—that of undeviating order. This is the one omnipresent principle by which their movements are governed.
“Law, in this sense at least, must be and is the result of dictation by the highest wisdom, and necessitates the existence of Deity. I use the term because it is the only one which is pertinent to the subject and idea to be expressed. The word God is the outcome of the earlier ages of comparative intellectual darkness. The highest mental status of mankind at that time could not apprehend a Ruler of the Universe except as clothed with a form somewhat analogous to that of a human being, and hence the rather presumptuous declaration that ‘God created man in His own image.’
“We can readily apprehend this.
“If, on contemplation, we look theaugust questionsquarely in the face, we can most certainly reach the conclusion that this Ideal is the highest possible one, and centres within itselfall things elserequisite to an intelligent apprehension of what we are striving to reach. To illustrate—if we have not already covered the basic ground of the thought—all the most potent and irresistible forces of Nature are strictly impalpable; and yet we know somewhat of their lurkings; and such star-eyed minds as that of a Morse can reverently and gently lead them in the direction of human pathways.
“This conviction may be considered as the final result of the eager inquiry of honest and intelligent human minds. I think it the reflex of the conviction of England’s Newton, and I accept and retain it as a finality of the question. It ennobles instead of dwarfing one’s conception of a Ruler of all things, and gives us a stable as well as a rational and intellectual standpoint of observation, of faith, and of love. Higher than the God of earlier worship,because entirely removed from the sensuous perceptions; not fashioned after the crude and dimly visioned ideals of elder time, it is sufficient for the highest yearnings of all Humanity, and must necessarily ennoble the faith of all with whom it shall live as the great exponent of Power, Truth, and Love.
“I remain, sincerely, as ever,
“Your friend,“J. E. Robinson.”[21]
The following letter will explain itself. Professor J. Jay Watson needs no description. He was an intimate friend of Olé Bull, who bequeathed to him his favorite violin, on which instrument he is himself a consummate performer, while his little son, Emmons Watson, bids fair some day to rival Olé Bull himself. His direction of the music at the Centennial of 1876, and his popular “dime concerts” in New York, attended by some hundreds of thousands, have made Professor Watson not less widely known than he is everywhere highly respected, for his philanthropy as well as musical genius and powers.A. L. U.
“Mrs. A. Leah Underhill:
“Highly Esteemed Friend—It is with unfeigned pleasure that I comply with your request to furnish youwith an account of my strange experience while visiting San Francisco, Cal., in company with Olé Bull, the violinist, in 1870.
“I cheerfully give the facts as they occurred, and it seems eminently proper that the incident which I am about to relate should occupy a place in your forthcoming book, when we recollect that the problem involved was solved through your marvellous mediumistic powers.
“My father-in-law, Mr. Samuel Parsons, formerly an old and revered citizen of Gloucester, Mass., and who passed to the life beyond in 1865, had for many years been noted for his remarkable prophecies as to the coming of future events, as well as a strict regard for honesty and truth. We frequently talked of the change called death, and as we were both somewhat materialistic in our views as to a future state of existence, we mutually agreed that the one who should be first called to pay the debt of nature, would, if there was a possibility of Spirit return, with sufficient power to tangibly manifest his presence, surely do so; and in order that there could be no mistaking the individual identity, he would seize the one still in earth-life by the hair of his head and forcibly pull him from his bed to the floor.
“Laughable, and even ridiculous, as it may seem, this promise was at various times renewed, and frequently in the presence of mutual friends, who are still living. This agreement was made as a sort of harmless joke, neither Mr. Parsons nor myself having, up to this time, investigated the philosophy of Modern Spiritualism in any form.
“During my visit to San Francisco, Cal., while managing the ‘Olé Bull Concert Combination,’ I had occasion to employ a number of persons, one of whom, having been proved glaringly dishonest, I was obliged to discharge.
“This individual, not being satisfied with my leniencyin letting him off without legal punishment, vowed vengeance upon me, saying to several persons that I should ‘never leave California alive.’ As ‘barking dogs seldom bite,’ I paid little attention to his threats. One evening, after the conclusion of our concert, I was accompanied to my hotel by J. Heneage Carter, Esq., an old-time friend, and the originator of the once famous ‘Carter Zouave Troupe.’ After depositing the receipts of the evening with Mr. Ridgeway, clerk of the ‘Lick House,’ where our company were stopping, I retired to my room with my friend Carter. A brief chat ensued, no allusion whatever being made as to the threats of the discharged employee. Mr. Carter bade me a cheerful good-night and took his departure. I had no special anxiety upon my mind, had eaten no hearty supper, taken no beverage in the shape of wine or liquor of any description; in fact, I have scrupulously avoided dissipation in any form up to the present moment of my life; consequently there was nothing in my stomach calculated to induce nightmare or unpleasant dreams.
“Upon retiring I immediately fell into a tranquil sleep, from which I was unceremoniously awakened, without the slightest warning, by being suddenly and vigorously grasped, apparently by a strong hand, by the hair of my head and jerked with tremendous force from my bed, landing sprawling upon the floor. Immediately gaining my feet, I prepared to face a demon in the flesh of some sort, and groped about the room to find a friendly chair with which to defend myself, if need be. No further demonstration being made, however, I proceeded to strike a light, nor for a moment did I lose my self-control, although constantly expecting to be attacked by some unseen foe. Upon carefully examining my room there was not the slightest sign of any being, human or otherwise, withthe exception of myself. Everything was still and as usual. I looked at my watch and found the time to be 5.40A.M.My scalp smarted intensely, as it naturally would after such harsh treatment, and had I been near an Indian camp I could readily have believed that I had lost that important appendage, and without any great stretch of the imagination either.
“As there is no effect without a cause, andvice versa, I soon seated myself and endeavored to solve the meaning of the remarkable phenomenon just experienced. In a moment a terrible thought flashed upon my mind. Perhaps some member of my family or near relative had died suddenly. Hastily making my toilet I proceeded to the nearest telegraph station and impatiently awaited the arrival of the operator. My despatch was directed to my sister in New York, with whom my family were stopping at the time, and simply read, ‘How are you all? Answer.’ The reply, ‘All well,’ caused me to breathe more freely, but the mystery was yet unexplained. I told the story to my friend Olé Bull, who became intensely interested, and often during our stay in California expressed a great deal of solicitude in the matter.
“I would here stateen passant, that the agreement made by my wife’s father and myself did not recur to my mind. To be sure, Mr. Parsons had been dead more than five years, yet it seems to me quite remarkable that our old compact had not at once presented itself; but I felt convinced that this singular demonstrationmeantsomething. Upon my return to New York I visited you in company with Olé Bull, and you kindly gave us a private sitting. The alphabet being called for, the following was rapped out: ‘John, the man whom you discharged in San Francisco, was on the veranda of the hotel, and determined to execute his terrible threat. I thought it a good time toredeem my promise, and pulled you out of bed by your hair. I was obliged to do this roughly in order to thoroughly awaken you.—Samuel Parsons.’
“With great respect I am“Your sincere friend,“J. Jay Watson.“Beverly, Essex County, Mass.”
[21]“The writer is quite aware that if this letter, or its substance, should be used as a part of the text of your book, it may be perused by some who will pronounce its final and legitimate conclusions as but a reflex or embodiment of ancient Pantheism. I think, however, that the more critical of its observers—if such it may and I hope will have—will discover a wide divergence from that form of belief; which is really, if rightly apprehended, totally at variance with the central idea which I intend reverently to express.“J. E. R.”
[21]“The writer is quite aware that if this letter, or its substance, should be used as a part of the text of your book, it may be perused by some who will pronounce its final and legitimate conclusions as but a reflex or embodiment of ancient Pantheism. I think, however, that the more critical of its observers—if such it may and I hope will have—will discover a wide divergence from that form of belief; which is really, if rightly apprehended, totally at variance with the central idea which I intend reverently to express.“J. E. R.”
[21]“The writer is quite aware that if this letter, or its substance, should be used as a part of the text of your book, it may be perused by some who will pronounce its final and legitimate conclusions as but a reflex or embodiment of ancient Pantheism. I think, however, that the more critical of its observers—if such it may and I hope will have—will discover a wide divergence from that form of belief; which is really, if rightly apprehended, totally at variance with the central idea which I intend reverently to express.
“J. E. R.”
Mysteries of Mediumship—To Prove the Immortality of the Soul—Passivity and Harmony at Séances—Honest and Candid Scepticism—Imaginary and Self-induced Mediumship—Deceptive Communications—Cautions—Rappings—Spirits made Visible—Beware of Fraudulent Mediums—Not All Spirits Reliable—Cabinets.
Mediumship is a great mystery. Some persons are found to possess the gift (often from ancestral derivation, as in the case of the “second-sight” in the Scotch Highlands), while others are totally devoid of it. There are also many varieties both in the forms and phases of it, and in the degrees in which different persons possess the strange—I may say, abnormal—gift. There seem to be also great variations ofdegreein which it is possessed by different persons, constituting differences of mediumistic power.
I am satisfied that there are few families in which some one or other of its members does not possess it, at least in latent condition, more or less developed or undeveloped; and that, if they will sit patiently andpassively(without anxiety or eagerness) round a table, without being discouraged and exhausted of patience by weeks or even months of failure, the manifestations will generally at last come, whether in the form of rappings, or that of tilting of the table, or in other phenomena inexplicable on the ground of the ordinary laws of physical nature, and compelling the recognition of the presence of extra-natural beings or forces—i.e., “Spirits”—as the only explanation of the manifest and incontestable facts.
Again, apart from the various degrees of the faculty in the mediums, there is mystery hanging over the question of the various degrees of ability of Spirits who may be present—high, low, or of intermediate grade and character—to act through or with a particular medium. And still again, there is mystery over the influence of the members of the circle present, both upon the sensitive medium and upon the Spirits present. And upon the fundamental point of what constitutes mediumship, on what qualities, physical, mental or spiritual, it depends, hangs the greatest mystery of all.
One thing seems certain, namely, that at least in the present age or “dispensation,” the Spirits about us seem desirous of communicating with us, human Spirits still in the flesh, and glad of the opportunities afforded them through the mediums for doing so. “Psychics,” or “sensitives,” have been suggested as more suitable designations than “mediums,” but that of “medium” seems to have got too strongly rooted in popular usage to be now easily changed.
It is certain that history shows what may be called mediumship to have existed in all ages, climes, and civilizations, in various degrees, and that in all races, barbarian or civilized, there has been more or less of manifestation, to man still in the flesh, of the continued existence of disincarnated man, or Spirits. The extraordinary outpouring of the evidence of this great truth which our times have witnessed, and which, beginning in our country, has so rapidly made the circuit of the globe, seems, as has been declared by many of the higher classes of Spirits, to have grown out of the fact, that the science and philosophy of the century had become so deeply imbued withmaterialism, fast sapping the foundations ofallreligion, that it had become necessary, in the counsels of thehigh Spirits who are the ministers of the will of the Infinite Supreme we name God, to overpour the world with a new flood of irresistible demonstration of the truth and reality of the next life and of the immortality of the soul.
If there is one mental condition, on the part of mediums and sitters, more constantly insisted upon by good Spirits as necessary toward the attaining of good results in the manifestations, it is that of “passivity.” If a sitter earnestly desires a particular thing, has his heart and thought and will strongly set upon it, that is precisely what he is least likely to obtain, or to obtain it clearly and satisfactorily, if he obtain it at all. The expression is sometimes used that both medium and sitter must keep themselves in anegative, as distinguished from apositive, condition. If they are “positive”—especially if persons of strong will—their magnetic or Spiritual “positiveness” seems to work adversely instead of harmoniously with that of the invisibles.
The testimony from the Spirits is pretty unanimous that tranquil mental harmony in the circle is very necessary toward the attainment of good results. Discussion of subjects of difference, in however friendly a temper it may be conducted, is unfavorable. This is generally accepted as the reason why instrumental or vocal music is so commonly resorted to, as tending to lead the minds of all into the same channel. There may also be something in its action to attune the air-vibrations into accord instead of opposition, resulting from the differences of voice among a number of persons thus gathered together.
It is a mistake to suppose that faith in Spiritualism on the part of all present is a necessary condition of success at séances. It is true that it sometimes seems that the presence of particular individuals is fatal to any, or anybut the feeblest, manifestations. In such cases it is not their ignorance and disbelief, nor a rational scepticism, that militate against success. On the contrary, Spirits like the visits of honest, candid sceptics or inquirers, who are not inaccessible to evidence, nor so resolutely and bitterly hostile, and so acrid in temper, that they neither can be convinced though one “rose from the dead,” nor are worthy of the attempt. They seem to resent the insulting presence and the unworthy mental condition and attitude of such persons, and ill-disposed to cast such pearls before such swine. Also, when sitters come with lies and fraud in their hearts, and trickery in their purposes, they bring with or attract to them lying and fraudulent Spirits who like to give them just what they come to seek. It is perhaps even more true in the Spirit life than in this, that like attracts like, and that birds of a feather flock together.
There are many imaginary mediums. They will tell you they see, hear, and speak to you under the influence of Spirits, when it is nothing but an emanation from their own brain, and perhaps from the forces of the circle combined. This I believe to be a self-induced condition, developed by the powerful influence of the human will acting upon their own physical force.
Beware how you become ensnared in the meshes of such mediums. They are only fit subjects for the lunatic asylums.
There are, I believe, some unexplored regions in the human brain which may be hereafter explained and better understood.
I will give you an example of this phase of mediumship.
A friend of mine, an excellent man but very ambitious to excel in doing good, and at the same time to take a high position in Spiritualism, was told by Spirits that he wouldbe a medium. He was very sanguine and believed that he could revolutionize the world, if he should become one.
He was a clergyman and an honest man. One morning (after having waited a long time for the fulfilment of the promise that he would be a medium), he came to me with a roll of paper in his hand, his face beaming with joy, saying as he entered the room, “At last the prophecy has been fulfilled! See, listen,” and he read a beautiful poem signed “Felicia Hemans.”
He afterward wrote many interesting things, and I have no doubt there were or had been times when he was under the influence of good Spirits; but as soon as he became ambitious to set himself up as “high priest,” that innate something which belongs to the natural man performed the office of his own mind.
That development is often very disastrous and unreliable, and should not be encouraged. I will give you an illustration in the following communication.
One Sunday afternoon, while sitting in his library, his hand was influenced to write a communication, of which the following is a copy:
“I departed this earth-life a few hours ago, in —— Street, No. ——. You will find my children mourning over my lifeless form. Go to them at once and assist them to bury my body.(Signed)Mary.”
He read the communication to his wife, who remonstrated, saying that she doubted it; but after considering the matter they both started to find the distressed family. It was not very far from them; but judge of their astonishment when they found no such place as had been mentioned. Thestreetwas there, but nohouse, and no number like the place designated. The communication, in its essentials, wasan entire fabrication. In the evening theyboth called on me, and desired, if possible, that Spirits would explain through the rappings why he should have been so deceived. The rapping said, “My dear friend, this is an experience which you will not forget. You have been led by ambition, mistaking it for a higher motive. You have besought Spirits to direct you, when you should have acted according to your own best judgment. Thus you have attracted a class of Spirits who are unreliable.” This was something which many were necessitated to learn in the school of experience, especially in those early days of Spiritualism.
I do not approve of sitting in promiscuous circles for development. I remember several years ago there was a circle held in New York for the purpose of making mediums. Our friend, Mr. George Willets, visited the rooms of the “developers” several times, and reported to us the unfavorable effect it produced upon him. My sister Katie on one occasion went with him. When she returned she felt badly and complained of strange sensations, caused (she believed) by sitting in that circle. It affected her unfavorably for some days. She was sad, and complained of seeing disagreeable things whenever her eyes closed. This gradually changed, but she could never be persuaded to visit such circles again.
In the case of the Dr. Phelps’s manifestations I think there was abundant evidence to prove that a natural development took place there. And I am sure that we fought against it long enough and hard enough to prove that we were not knowingly instrumental in bringing about anything of our own mediumship. We were all annoyed at the idea of being called mediums.
Another well-known case—were I to mention the name it would be clearly remembered—was that of a wealthy gentleman doing a large business in this city. He came tosee me at No. 1 Ludlow Place, rejoicing in his newly developed mediumship. He was a large, finely organized man, and came to explain to me how wonderfully he was affected. He told me that his wife was not pleased because he sat in circles for development, and she thought he was losing his mind. This gentleman lived in Brooklyn, and if this should come under his eye he will recollect the circumstance. He was not a disciple of the “Rochester knockings,” but a professed admirer of speaking, writing, and impressible mediums. He thought it would be very fine to become a great public speaker (as he had been told he would be), and astonish the world; and therefore he believed it. He soon began to whirl around and pound himself and snort like an animal. I thought he was a raving madman; but when he spoke he seemed rational enough at times, but his lucid moments were few and far between.
At length the Spirit rapped out the following: “My son, sit down at the table.” He did so, apparently delighted. Again the alphabet was called for, and this was spelled: “Enclose the extremities of your fingers within your hands, cross your feet and rest your heels on the floor, and permit me to give you advice, namely: When you sit in the circle, exerting every faculty of mind and body, with your hands on the table and your feet on the floor, all your brain forces escape through your extremities and are absorbed by the more receptive members of the circle.”
He followed the directions of his guardian Spirit, and became quiet, and was so deeply interested in the rappings that he engaged a private hour and brought his wife the next day, who became equally interested and honestly confessed to me that she had blamed and condemned me as an impostor; and although her husband had not met in my circles, she charged me with being the original causeof her husband’s “misfortune”—as she considered it. From that time he was cured.
I think he was on the high road to the lunatic asylum; and, although some writers term the Spirit-rapping a manifestation of “lower grade,” in my own opinion communications come more direct from Spirits through the rappings, or when accompanied by them, than when written or spoken, etc., in magnetic circles where the mediums are quite as susceptible to an action exerted upon them by Spiritsembodiedas by thedisembodied.
I have found it so in my own experience, and I never place entire confidence in anything unless the Spirits sanction it to me by sounds in connection with the alphabet, which was their first chosen method with us. Nor do I rely on the rappings unless what is said through them bears in itself the evidence of truth. I regret to see persons too much carried away by this or anyism. Give me a good amanuensis, one who can take down each letter as it is indicated (and not interrupt me by asking very often, “What does it say?” which breaks the telegraphic connection, for the time, through which Spirits operate, exactly as the telegraphic wires are affected by a thunder-storm)—give me, I say, such an amanuensis, and I can sit, as I have often sat, for hours at a time, receiving the letters through the raps and alphabet, with no idea of their connection or meaning, nor any such knowledge possible to any listener, and at the close every letter, word, and sentence will be found perfectly correct, and the whole intelligible only when the whole is read in connected sequence.
It is impossible for any mortal to sit and reiterate the letters of the alphabet as fast as they can be repeated, hour after hour, and retain in the mind the structure of the sentences and chapters communicated. I defy any one to do it. Even Theodore Parker pronounced it a quietus onthe Buffalo doctors. Try it yourselves, dear readers. Under the right conditions, I can sit and call the letters for hours together, and when the message is finished it will be found to be perfect and unbroken from beginning to end—in accordance with the intelligence of the Spirit, not that of the medium.
I have seen Spirits walk around the room, furnishing their own light sufficiently bright to show themselves distinctly to all persons present, when every precaution had been taken to lock and seal the doors and windows, to prevent ingress or egress of any person to disturb the circle; and I know hundreds, still living, who can testify to this statement.
Now, then, why should there be any need of so conducting circles for manifestations as to cause suspicion, or leave the minds of investigators in doubt? Should a medium be allowed to enter a cabinet without any precautions on the part of the sitters to require “test conditions,” and deliberately clothe him or herself in the habiliments of angels, and then softly glide forth into a dimly lighted room, scarcely visible to the eye, and call it a “materialization” or a “transfiguration”? Shame on such cruel deception. I am astonished that people are willing to be so imposed upon. When I was before the public, I expected and wished to give every satisfaction in my power. I believe all persons who wish to know the truth, and are willing to pay mediums for their time and trouble, should demand their rights, search the cabinets, and hold the mediums by joining hands until they are fully satisfied of the truthfulness of the manifestations. We have never objected to being held, and we have even submitted to being stethoscoped and gagged to settle the question of ventriloquism, after every other test had been applied.
I do not wish to be understood as condemning all cabinetséances. We, for our part, never used cabinets nor had occasion to do so. I know, through the best of testimony, that with honest mediums and select confidential circles, marvellous phenomena have taken place through that means since my day. But I do disapprove of such séances before promiscuous parties, when not accompanied with precautions against the possibility of deception; for when “test conditions” are not required by the sitters, or insisted upon by the mediums as their only protection against malevolent suspicions, they open the door to fraudulent mediums for the practice of abominable deceptions.
Nor will I dismiss the subject without cautioning all against the error of always relying implicitly upon the communications of those whom they regard as Spirits far better, higher, and more enlightened than themselves or their friends. Still less should they, necessarily, obey their directions or counsels, especially in regard to their business or social concerns.
Many investigators find it hard to divest themselves of a sort of superstitious reverence for the Spirits in conversation with them. It is a mistake to suppose them to know everything, and a greater one to imagine them capable of doing everything. It is sometimes an error even to believe them to be the Spirits they profess to be. Spirits are of many varieties of condition, character, and degrees of progress. There are those prone to amuse themselves with a sort of practical joking and false personation; and such Spirits, being in a low plane, are apt to be glad of any opportunity to push themselves forward into the door opened by the presence of the medium, and play their fantastic tricks on the too credulous. We must judge for ourselves of the reasonableness, the probability, and the characteristic resemblance of what Spirits may say, to that which we might have expected from them. We muststrive, by our daily lives and conversation, to attract to ourselves only Spirits of the better and higher orders in that world of the next life, which is far more densely populous than the one in which we ourselves still “live and move and have our being.”
At the same time I think that the cause of Spiritualism would be at this day further advanced in general acceptance, if cabinets, and with them the phenomena called materialization and transfiguration, had never been introduced. For, however genuine, as well as impressive, may be the manifestations of the presence and action of the Spirits which may have occurred in the employment of them, they affordopportunitiesfor deception which dishonest mediums are but too ready to avail themselves of, and then when exposure comes (and it is generally Spiritualists who are the most earnest in detecting and punishing the infamy of such deception), they are at once trumpeted all over the land, and more harm is done to the progress of the cause than all the good ever resulting from the genuine phenomena themselves. No such exposures ever occurred in all our long and varied experience, though never have mediums been subjected to more jealous and severe investigations; and there are few of the more modern phenomena which have not occurred through our mediumship, though the usual mode of communication practised at our circles was the one which I still consider the best and most direct, as it is the simplest—that of rapping to the alphabet.
I will only add, before dismissing the subject, that though it is so many years since I have ceased to practise the public exercise of my mediumship, I am not conscious that it has at all weakened or changed. On rare occasions I have given private sittings to confidential friends, and few days pass which do not bring me conscious evidence of the presence of Spirit friends. It was under their prompting,and indeed direction, that I have written this book, and often during its progress have they given me their counsel at moments of doubt on my part as to what to insert or to omit. Happy, in so many ways, as has been my domestic life, I should be ungrateful if I did not realize how largely the unseen friends and visitors of my home have contributed to that happiness.
Felicia Hemans—Spirit Dictations of Music.
In compliance with the advice and wishes of the friend who has aided me in putting together the scattered parts of my volume, I now proceed to wind it up with what I might call a sample assortment of “Incidents” out of my Spiritualistic experience. This was not within my original scheme of the work, but in the course of several months of intimate intercourse with him, there naturally arose in conversation frequent allusions to such reminiscences, leading me to tell him, under his intelligent interrogation, the story of them. The result was that he came to insist that some collection of them would constitute a useful as well as interesting addition to my “Missing Link.” He therefore embraced many opportunities of returning to them, and drawing from me repetitions of the narratives, and jotting down notes, from which he then insisted that I should write them out, with a little kind assistance from him. This collection might easily have been greatly enlarged.
The following is a beautiful and curious experience which came one evening at Rochester, in the early days of our mediumship:
Maggie and I were sitting alone in my cozy little parlor in Troup Street, enjoying ourselves by a warm fire while the pouring rain and howling winds outside assured usthat we should not be interrupted by callers. I was reading “Memoirs of the Wesley Family,” when the alphabet was called for by the usual signal. I repeated the letters as they came through the alphabet, and wrote them as designated successively by the Spirit, viz.:
“GAGCBAGAGEFEFAGFEFGFEDAGGCEDGGCBAGCCDBC.”
These letters could not, of course, be construed into words, and I cast them aside saying, “This must be the Spirit of Johnny Story,” a simple boy whom we had known when living, who could never be taught to read. The alphabet was again called for and the message given by the Spirit was, “Apply the letters to your piano.”
On doing so I recognized in them, to my surprise and delight, a sweet and tender melody. I was then told to set the music to “Haunted Ground” in Mrs. Hemans’s Poems, but with the variation of changing “Haunted” to “Hallowed” in the last verse.
Professor J. J. Watson has kindly arranged the accompaniment for the organ and piano, as on the next page.
I have always considered this one of the most beautiful and interesting tests I have ever received. It certainly was not mind-reading. The letters as given had of course conveyed no sense to me, nor any idea of musical notes. In connection with the music thus given for the poem with its altered name, I presume that it is proper to reproduce the poem itself.
And slight, withal, may be the things which bringBack on the heart the weight which it would flingAside forever—it may be a sound,A tone of music, summer eve, or spring,A flower—the wind—the ocean—which shall woundStriking the electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound.—Byron.
And slight, withal, may be the things which bringBack on the heart the weight which it would flingAside forever—it may be a sound,A tone of music, summer eve, or spring,A flower—the wind—the ocean—which shall woundStriking the electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound.—Byron.
And slight, withal, may be the things which bringBack on the heart the weight which it would flingAside forever—it may be a sound,A tone of music, summer eve, or spring,A flower—the wind—the ocean—which shall woundStriking the electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound.—Byron.
Music for organ
Music for piano
Yes, it is haunted, this quiet scene,Fair as it looks, and all softly green;Yet fear thou not, for the spell is thrown,And the might of the shadow’s on me alone.Have I not, under these whisp’ring leaves,Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?Shadows yet unto which life seem’d bound,And is it not—is it not haunted ground?Have I not lived ’midst these lonely dells,And loved, and sorrowed, and heard farewells,And learn’d in my own deep soul to look,And tremble before that mysterious book?Have I not, under these whispering leaves,Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?Shadows—yet unto which life seemed bound,And is it not—is it not haunted ground?Must I not hear whatthouhearest not,Troubling the air of this sunny spot?Is there not something to none but meTold by the rustling of every tree?Song hath been here—with its flow of thought,Love—with its passionate visions fraught;Death—breathing stillness and sadness round—And is it not—is it not haunted ground?Are there no phantoms, but such as comeBy night from the darkness that wraps the tomb?—A sound, a scent, or a whispering breezeCan summon up mightier far than these!But I may not linger amidst them here!Lovely they are, and yet things to fear;Passing and leaving a weight behind,And a thrill on the chords of the stricken mind.Away, away, that my soul may soar,As a free bird of blue skies once more,Here from its wing it may never castThe chains by those Spirits brought back from the past.Doubt it not—smile not—but go thou, too,Look on the scenes where thy childhood grew—Where thou hast prayed at thy mother’s knee,Where thou hast roved with thy brethren free;Go thou, when life unto thee is changed,Friends thou hast loved as thy soul, estranged;When from the idols thy heart hath made,Thou hast seen the colors of glory fade;Oh! painfully then, by the wind’s low sigh,By the voice of the stream, by the flower-cup’s dye,By a thousand tokens of sight and sound,Thou wilt feel thou art treading on hallowed ground.
Yes, it is haunted, this quiet scene,Fair as it looks, and all softly green;Yet fear thou not, for the spell is thrown,And the might of the shadow’s on me alone.Have I not, under these whisp’ring leaves,Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?Shadows yet unto which life seem’d bound,And is it not—is it not haunted ground?Have I not lived ’midst these lonely dells,And loved, and sorrowed, and heard farewells,And learn’d in my own deep soul to look,And tremble before that mysterious book?Have I not, under these whispering leaves,Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?Shadows—yet unto which life seemed bound,And is it not—is it not haunted ground?Must I not hear whatthouhearest not,Troubling the air of this sunny spot?Is there not something to none but meTold by the rustling of every tree?Song hath been here—with its flow of thought,Love—with its passionate visions fraught;Death—breathing stillness and sadness round—And is it not—is it not haunted ground?Are there no phantoms, but such as comeBy night from the darkness that wraps the tomb?—A sound, a scent, or a whispering breezeCan summon up mightier far than these!But I may not linger amidst them here!Lovely they are, and yet things to fear;Passing and leaving a weight behind,And a thrill on the chords of the stricken mind.Away, away, that my soul may soar,As a free bird of blue skies once more,Here from its wing it may never castThe chains by those Spirits brought back from the past.Doubt it not—smile not—but go thou, too,Look on the scenes where thy childhood grew—Where thou hast prayed at thy mother’s knee,Where thou hast roved with thy brethren free;Go thou, when life unto thee is changed,Friends thou hast loved as thy soul, estranged;When from the idols thy heart hath made,Thou hast seen the colors of glory fade;Oh! painfully then, by the wind’s low sigh,By the voice of the stream, by the flower-cup’s dye,By a thousand tokens of sight and sound,Thou wilt feel thou art treading on hallowed ground.
Yes, it is haunted, this quiet scene,Fair as it looks, and all softly green;Yet fear thou not, for the spell is thrown,And the might of the shadow’s on me alone.
Have I not, under these whisp’ring leaves,Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?Shadows yet unto which life seem’d bound,And is it not—is it not haunted ground?
Have I not lived ’midst these lonely dells,And loved, and sorrowed, and heard farewells,And learn’d in my own deep soul to look,And tremble before that mysterious book?
Have I not, under these whispering leaves,Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?Shadows—yet unto which life seemed bound,And is it not—is it not haunted ground?
Must I not hear whatthouhearest not,Troubling the air of this sunny spot?Is there not something to none but meTold by the rustling of every tree?
Song hath been here—with its flow of thought,Love—with its passionate visions fraught;Death—breathing stillness and sadness round—And is it not—is it not haunted ground?
Are there no phantoms, but such as comeBy night from the darkness that wraps the tomb?—A sound, a scent, or a whispering breezeCan summon up mightier far than these!
But I may not linger amidst them here!Lovely they are, and yet things to fear;Passing and leaving a weight behind,And a thrill on the chords of the stricken mind.
Away, away, that my soul may soar,As a free bird of blue skies once more,Here from its wing it may never castThe chains by those Spirits brought back from the past.
Doubt it not—smile not—but go thou, too,Look on the scenes where thy childhood grew—Where thou hast prayed at thy mother’s knee,Where thou hast roved with thy brethren free;
Go thou, when life unto thee is changed,Friends thou hast loved as thy soul, estranged;When from the idols thy heart hath made,Thou hast seen the colors of glory fade;
Oh! painfully then, by the wind’s low sigh,By the voice of the stream, by the flower-cup’s dye,By a thousand tokens of sight and sound,Thou wilt feel thou art treading on hallowed ground.
Crowd of Spirits made Visible by Lightning—Scarcely Credible but True—A Game of Euchre—Margaret’s Dream—Mistaken Names Corrected by Spirits—An Unwilling Convert made Grateful and Happy.
One Sunday evening, in Ludlow Place, occurred the grandest manifestations of Spirit presence I ever witnessed or heard of. Our good friend Dr. A. D. Wilson and his friend Dr. Kirby had come in the Doctor’s carriage; and, as a great thunder-storm was gathering fast overhead, he ordered the carriage home, to return at nine o’clock, or when the storm should be over. We sat round the table in my private room on the second floor, four of us—the two gentlemen, mother, and myself. Soon the vivid lightning flashed and the near thunder rolled and rattled overhead: while in the intervals the blackest of darkness was around us, the Spirits having directed us not to have lights. The “raps” bade us to sing: and, my mother leading, we sang the Methodist hymn: “I’m a pilgrim; I’m a stranger,” etc. (my father and mother were Methodists). But as the peals and flashes came so mightily I was afraid, and thought it unseemly for us to sing in the presence of these grand manifestations of the lights and the voices of the heavens. Presently Dr. Wilson started up with the exclamation, “Oh my God! there’s my mother,” and we all saw a form in the doorway leading from our room toanother in the rear. And then, to his friend Dr. Kirby, “And there’s your mother with her arms around your neck!” And then again to my mother, “Oh, Mrs. Fox, there’s your noble father by you!” And we all sawthe Spirits.
The whole room was crowded with a glorious company of Spirits!
We would see them only by the flashes of the lightning. When the flash had vanished, all was blackness; but, on its return, there they were still, different forms and with varying features; and they looked as natural as when in this—our life. What were our feelings? How could I express, or who will need that I should attempt to do so? We all responded deeply to Dr. Wilson’s exclamation, “I would not have missed this for all the world! Oh, who after such a sight could ever again commit a sin?”
It would seem that while we had no Spiritual sight to see them clairvoyantly in the darkness, they could bear the electric brightness of the lightning which revealed them to our eyes.
A deep awe rested on us all, and we all united in the following beautiful old Methodist hymn which my mother sang. Many a time afterward we have sat in the hope of a repetition of this glorious spectacle; and Dr. Wilson would come when there seemed some prospect of thunder and lightning. But it never came again. Perhaps there was something in the quiet solemnity of that Sabbath hour which prompted it to the Spirits; and once shown, it was enough: for memory could not but keep it ever fresh in our minds, as it is and will forever remain in mine.