There is no Death Part 16

CHAPTER XXVIII.

V. _Mrs. Fay._

There was a young woman called "Annie Eva Fay," who came over from America to London some years ago, and appeared at the Hanover Square Rooms, in an exhibition after the manner of the Davenport Brothers and Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook. She must not be confounded with the Mrs. Fay who forms the subject of this chapter, because they had nothing to do with one another. Some one in Boston advised me _not_ to go and sit at one of this Mrs. Fay's public _seances_. They were described to me as being too physical and unrefined; that the influences were of a low order, and the audiences matched them. However, when I am studying a matter, I like to see everything I can and hear everything I can concerning it, and to form my own opinion independent of that of anybody else. So I walked off by myself one night to Mrs. Fay's address, and sat down in a quiet corner, watching everything that occurred. The circle certainly numbered some members of a humble cla.s.s, but I conclude we should see that everywhere if the fees were lower. Media, like other professional people, fix their charges according to the quarter of the city in which they live. But every member was silent and respectful, and evidently a believer.

One young man, in deep mourning, with a little girl also in black, of about five or six years old, attracted my attention at once, from his sorrowful and abstracted manner. He had evidently come there, I thought, in the hope of seeing some one whom he had lost. Mrs. Fay (as she pa.s.sed through the room to her cabinet) appeared a very quiet, simple-looking little woman to me, without any loudness or vulgarity about her. Her cabinet was composed of two curtains only, made of some white material, and hung on uprights at one angle, in a corner of the room, the most transparent contrivance possible. Anything like a bustle or confusion inside it, such as would be occasioned by dressing or "making up,"

would have been apparent at once to the audience outside, who were sitting by the light of an ordinary gas-burner and globe. Yet Mrs. Fay had not been seated there above a few minutes, when there ran out into the _seance_ room two of the most extraordinary materializations I had ever seen, and both of them about as opposite to Mrs. Fay in appearance as any creatures could be.

One was an Irish charwoman or apple-woman (she might have been either) with a brown, wrinkled face, a broken nose, tangled grey hair, a crushed bonnet, general dirt and disorder, and a tongue that could talk broad Irish, and call "a spade a spade" at one and the same time. "Biddy," as she was named, was accompanied by a street newspaper boy--one of those urchins who run after carriages and turn Catherine-wheels in the mud, and who talked "gutter-slang" in a style that was utterly unintelligible to the decent portion of the sitters. These two went on in a manner that was undoubtedly funny, but not at all edifying and calculated to drive any enquirer into Spiritualism out of the room, under the impression that they were evil spirits bent on our destruction. That either of them was represented by Mrs. Fay was out of the question. In the first place, she would, in that instance, have been so clever an actress and mimic, that she would have made her fortune on the stage--added to which the boy "Teddy" was much too small for her, and "Biddy" was much too large.

Besides, no actress, however experienced, could have "made up" in the time. I was quite satisfied, therefore, that neither of them was the medium, even if I could not have seen her figure the while, through the thin curtains, sitting in her chair. _Why_ such low, physical manifestations are permitted I am unable to say. It was no wonder they had shocked the sensibility of my friend. I felt half inclined myself when they appeared to get up and run away. However, I was very glad afterwards that I did not. They disappeared after a while, and were succeeded by a much pleasanter person, a cabinet spirit called "Gipsy,"

who looked as if she might have belonged to one of the gipsy tribes when on earth, she was so brown and arch and lively. Presently the young man in black was called up, and I saw him talking to a female spirit very earnestly. After a while he took her hand and led her outside the curtain, and called the little girl whom he had left on his seat by her name. The child looked up, screamed "Mamma! mamma!" and flew into the arms of the spirit, who knelt down and kissed her, and we could hear the child sobbing and saying, "Oh! mamma, why did you go away?--why did you go away?" It was a very affecting scene--at least it seemed so to me.

The instant recognition by the little girl, and her perfect unconsciousness but that her mother had returned _in propria persona_, would have been more convincing proof of the genuineness of Spiritualism to a sceptic, than fifty miracles of greater importance. When the spirit mother had to leave again the child's agony at parting was very apparent. "Take me with you," she kept on saying, and her father had actually to carry her back to her seat. When they got there they both wept in unison. Afterwards he said to me in an apologetic sort of way--he was sitting next to me--"It is the first time, you see, that Mary has seen her poor mother, but I wanted to have her testimony to her ident.i.ty, and I think she gave it pretty plainly, poor child! She'll never be content to let me come alone now." I said, "I think it is a pity you brought her so young," and so I did.

"Florence" did not appear (she told me afterwards the atmosphere was so "rough" that she could not), and I began to think that no one would come for me, when a common seaman, dressed in ordinary sailor's clothes, ran out of the cabinet and began dancing a hornpipe in front of me. He danced it capitally too, and with any amount of vigorous snapping his fingers to mark the time, and when he had finished he "made a leg," as sailors call it, and stood before me. "Have you come for me, my friend?"

I enquired. "Not exactly," he answered, "but I came with the Cap'en. I came to pave the way for him. The Cap'en will be here directly. We was in the _Avenger_ together." (Now all the world knows that my eldest brother, Frederick Marryat, was drowned in the wreck of the _Avenger_ in 1847; but as I was a little child at the time, and had no remembrance of him, I had never dreamt of seeing him again. He was a first lieutenant when he died, so I do not know why the seaman gave him brevet rank, but I repeat his words as he said them.) After a minute or two I was called up to the cabinet, and saw my brother Frederick (whom I recognized from his likeness) standing there dressed in naval uniform, but looking very stiff and unnatural. He smiled when he saw me, but did not attempt to kiss me. I said, "Why! Fred! is it really you? I thought you would have forgotten all about me." He replied, "Forgotten little Flo? Why should I? Do you think I have never seen you since that time, nor heard anything about you? I know everything--everything!" "You must know, then, that I have not spent a very happy life," I said. "Never mind," he answered, "you needed it. It has done you good!" But all he said was without any life in it, as if he spoke mechanically--perhaps because it was the first time he had materialized.

I had said "Good-bye" to him, and dropped the curtain, when I heard my name called twice, "Flo! Flo!" and turned to receive my sister "Emily"

in my arms. She looked like herself exactly, but she had only time to kiss me and gasp out, "So glad, so happy to meet again," when she appeared to faint. Her eyes closed, her head fell back on my shoulder, and before I had time to realize what was going to happen, she had pa.s.sed _through_ the arm that supported her, and sunk down _through_ the floor. The sensation of her weight was still making my arm tingle, but "Emily" was gone--_clean gone_. I was very much disappointed. I had longed to see this sister again, and speak to her confidentially; but whether it was something antagonistic in the influence of this _seance_ room ("Florence" said afterwards that it _was_), or there was some other cause for it, I know not, but most certainly my friends did not seem to flourish there.

I had another horrible disappointment before I left. A voice from inside the cabinet called out, "Here are two babies who want the lady sitting under the picture." Now, there was only one picture hanging in the room, and I was sitting under it. I looked eagerly towards the cabinet, and saw issue from it the "Princess Gertie" leading a little toddler with a flaxen poll and bare feet, and no clothing but a kind of white chemise.

This was "Joan," the "Yonnie" I had so often asked to see, and I rose in the greatest expectation to receive the little pair. Just as they gained the centre of the room, however, taking very short and careful steps, like babies first set on their feet, the cabinet spirit "Gipsy"

_bounced_ out of the curtains, and saying decidedly, "Here! we don't want any children about," she placed her hand on the heads of my little ones, and _pressed them down_ through the floor. They seemed to crumble to pieces before my eyes, and their place knew them no more. I couldn't help feeling angry. I exclaimed, "O! what did you do that for? Those were my babies, and I have been longing to see them so." "I can't help it," replied "Gipsy," "but this isn't a _seance_ for children." I was so vexed that I took no more interest in the proceedings. A great number of forms appeared, thirty or forty in all, but by the time I returned to my hotel and began to jot down my notes, I could hardly remember what they were. I had been dreaming all the time of how much I should have liked to hold that little flaxen-haired "Yonnie" in my arms.

CHAPTER XXIX.

VI. _Virginia Roberts._

When I returned to New York, it was under exceptional circ.u.mstances. I had taken cold whilst travelling in the Western States, had had a severe attack of bronchitis and pneumonia at Chicago, was compelled to relinquish my business, and as soon as I was well enough to travel, was ordered back to New York to recuperate my health. Here I took up my abode in the Victoria Hotel, where a lady, whose acquaintance I had made on my former visit to the city, was living. As I have no permission to publish this lady's name, I must call her Mrs. S----. She had been a Spiritualist for some time before I knew her, and she much interested me by showing me an entry in her diary, made _four years_ previous to my arrival in America. It was an account of the utterances of a Mrs.

Philips, a clairvoyant then resident in New York, during which she had prophesied my arrival in the city, described my personal appearance, profession, and general surroundings perfectly, and foretold my acquaintanceship with Mrs. S----. The prophecy ended with words to the effect that our meeting would be followed by certain effects that would influence her future life, and that on the 17th of March, 1885, would commence a new era in her existence. It was at the beginning of March that we first lived under the same roof. As soon as Mrs. S---- found that I was likely to have some weeks of leisure, she became very anxious that we should visit the New York media together; for although she had so long been a believer in Spiritualism, she had not (owing to family opposition) met with much sympathy on the subject, or had the opportunity of much investigation. So we determined, as soon as I was well enough to go out in the evening, that we would attend some _seances_. As it happened, when that time came, we found the medium most accessible to be Miss Virginia Roberts, of whom neither of us knew anything but what we had learned from the public papers. However, it was necessary that I should be exposed as little as possible to the night air, and so we fixed, by chance as it were, to visit Miss Roberts first. We found her living with her mother and brother in a small house in one of the back streets of the city. She was a young girl of sixteen, very reserved and rather timid-looking, who had to be drawn out before she could be made to talk. She had only commenced sitting a few months before, and that because her brother (who was also a medium) had had an illness and been obliged to give up his _seances_ for a while. The _seance_ room was very small, the manifestations taking place almost in the midst of the circle, and the cabinet (so-called) was the flimsiest contrivance I had ever seen. Four uprights of iron, not thicker than the rod of a muslin blind, with cross-bars of the same, on which were hung thin curtains of lilac print, formed the construction of this cabinet, which shook and swayed about each time a form left or entered it. A harmonium for accompanying the voices, and a few chairs for the audience, was all the furniture the room contained. The first evening we went to see Miss Roberts there were only two or three sitters beside ourselves. The medium seemed to be pretty nearly unknown, and I resolved, as I usually do in such cases, not to expect anything, for fear I should be disappointed.

Mrs. S----, on the contrary, was all expectation and excitement. If she had ever sat for materializations, it had been long before, and the idea was like a new one to her. After two or three forms had appeared, of no interest to us, a gentleman in full evening dress walked suddenly out of the cabinet, and said, "Kate," which was the name of Mrs. S----. He was a stout, well-formed man, of an imposing presence, with dark hair and eyes, and he wore a solitaire of diamonds of unusual brilliancy in his shirt front. I had no idea who he was; but Mrs. S---- recognized him at once as an old lover who had died whilst under a misunderstanding with her, and she was powerfully affected--more, she was terribly frightened.

It seems that she wore at her throat a brooch which he had given her; but every time he approached her with the view of touching it, she shrieked so loudly, and threw herself into such a state of nervous agitation, that I thought she would have to return home again. However, on her being accommodated with a chair in the last row so that she might have the other sitters between her and the materialized spirits, she managed to calm herself. The only friend who appeared for me that evening was "John Powles;" and, to my surprise and pleasure, he appeared in the old uniform of the 12th Madras Native Infantry. This corps wore facings of fawn, with b.u.t.tons bearing the word "Ava," encircled by a wreath of laurel. The mess jackets were lined with wadded fawn silk, and the waistcoats were trimmed with three lines of narrow gold braid. Their "karkee," or undress uniform, established in 1859, consisted of a tunic and trousers of a sad green cloth, with the regimental b.u.t.tons and a crimson silk sash. The marching dress of all officers in the Indian service is made of white drill, with a cap cover of the same material.

Their forage cloak is of dark blue cloth, and hangs to their heels.

Their forage cap has a broad square peak to shelter the face and eyes. I mention these details for the benefit of those who are not acquainted with the general dress of the Indian army, and to show how difficult it would have been for Virginia Roberts, or any other medium, to have procured them, even had she known the private wish expressed by me to "John Powles" in Boston, that he would try and come to me in uniform. On this first occasion of his appearing so, he wore the usual everyday coat, b.u.t.toned up to his chin, and he made me examine the b.u.t.tons to see that they bore the crest and motto of the regiment. And I may say here, that before I left New York he appeared to me in every one of the various dresses I have described above, and became quite a marked figure in the city.

When it was made known through the papers that an old friend of Florence Marryat had appeared through the mediumship of Virginia Roberts, in a uniform of thirty years before, I received numbers of private letters inquiring if it were true, and dozens of people visited Miss Roberts'

_seances_ for the sole purpose of seeing him. He took a great liking for Mrs. S----, and when she had conquered her first fear she became quite friendly with him, and I heard, after leaving New York, that he continued to appear for her as long as she attended those _seances_.

There was one difference in the female spirits that came through Virginia Roberts from those of other media. Those that were strong enough to leave the cabinet invariably disappeared by floating upwards through the ceiling. Their mode of doing this was most graceful. They would first clasp their hands behind their heads and lean backward; then their feet were lifted off the ground, and they were borne upward in a rec.u.mbent position. When I related this to my friend, Dr. George Lefferts (under whom I was for throat treatment to recover my voice), he declared there must be some machinery connected with the uprights that supported the cabinet, by which the forms were elevated. He had got it all so "pat" that he was able to take a pencil and demonstrate to me on paper exactly how the machinery worked, and how easy it would be to swing full-sized human bodies up to the ceiling with it. How they managed to disappear when they got there he was not quite prepared to say; but if he once saw the trick done, he would explain the whole matter to me, and expose it into the bargain. I told Dr. Lefferts, as I have told many other clever men, that I shall be the first person open to conviction when they can convince me, and I bore him off to a private _seance_ with Virginia Roberts for that purpose only. He was all that was charming on the occasion. He gave me a most delightful dinner at Delmonico's first (for which I tender him in print my grateful recollection), and he tested all Miss Roberts' manifestations in the most delicate and gentlemanly manner (sceptics as a rule are neither delicate nor gentlemanly), but he could neither open my eyes to chicanery nor detect it himself. He handled and shook the frail supports of the cabinet, and confessed they were much too weak to bear any such weight as he had imagined. He searched the carpeted floor and the adjoining room for hidden machinery without finding the slightest thing to rouse his suspicions, and yet he saw the female forms float upwards through the whitewashed ceiling, and came away from the _seance_ room as wise as when he had entered it.

But this occurred some weeks after. I must relate first what happened after our first _seance_ with Miss Roberts. Mrs. S---- and I were well enough pleased with the result to desire to test her capabilities further, and with that intent we invited her to visit us at our hotel.

Spiritualism is as much tabooed by one section of the American public as it is encouraged by the other, and so we resolved to breathe nothing of our intentions, but invite the girl to dine and spend the evening in our rooms with us just as if she were an ordinary visitor. Consequently, we dined together at the _table d'hote_ before we took our way upstairs.

Mrs. S---- and I had a private sitting-room, the windows of which were draped with white lace curtains only, and we had no other means to shut out the light. Consequently, when we wished to sit, all we could do was to place a chair for Virginia Roberts in the window recess, behind one of these pairs of curtains, and pin them together in front of her, which formed the airiest cabinet imaginable. We then locked the door, lowered the gas, and sat down on a sofa before the curtains.

In the s.p.a.ce of five minutes, without the lace curtains having been in the slightest degree disturbed, Francis Lean, my stepson, walked _through_ them, and came up to my side. He was dressed in his ordinary costume of jersey and "jumpers," and had a little worsted cap upon his head. He displayed all the peculiarities of speech and manner I have noticed before; but he was much less timid, and stood by me for a long time talking of my domestic affairs, which were rather complicated, and giving me a detailed account of the accident which caused his death, and which had been always somewhat of a mystery. In doing this, he mentioned names of people hitherto unknown to me, but which I found on after inquiry to be true. He seemed quite delighted to be able to manifest so indisputably like himself, and remarked more than once, "I'm not much like a girl now, am I, Ma?"

Next, Mrs. S----'s old lover came, of whom she was still considerably alarmed, and her father, who had been a great politician and a well-known man. "Florence," too, of course, though never so lively through Miss Roberts as through other media, but still happy though pensive, and full of advice how I was to act when I reached England again. Presently a soft voice said, "Aunt Flo, don't you know me?" And I saw standing in front of me my niece and G.o.dchild, Lilian Thomas, who had died as a nun in the Convent of the "Dames Anglaises" at Bruges. She was clothed in her nun's habit, which was rather peculiar, the face being surrounded by a white cap, with a crimped border that hid all the hair, and surmounted by a white veil of some heavy woollen material which covered the head and the black serge dress. "Lilian" had died of consumption, and the death-like, waxy complexion which she had had for some time before was exactly reproduced. She had not much to say for herself; indeed, we had been completely separated since she had entered the convent, but she was undoubtedly _there_. She was succeeded by my sister "Emily," whom I have already so often described. And these apparitions, six in number, and all recognizable, were produced in the private room of Mrs. S---- and myself, and with no other person but Virginia Roberts, sixteen years old.

It was about this time that we received an invitation to attend a private _seance_ in a large house in the city, occupied by Mr. and Mrs.

Newman, who had Maud Lord staying with them as a visitor. Maud Lord's mediumship is a peculiar one. She places her sitters in a circle, holding hands. She then seats herself on a chair in the centre, and keeps on clapping her hands, to intimate that she has not changed her position. The _seance_ is held in darkness, and the manifestations consist of "direct voices," _i.e._ voices that every one can hear, and by what they say to you, you must judge of their ident.i.ty and truthfulness. I had only witnessed powers of this kind once before--through Mrs. Ba.s.sett, who is now Mrs. Herne--but as no one spoke to me through her whom I recognized, I have omitted to give any account of it.

As soon as Maud Lord's sitting was fully established, I heard her addressing various members of the company, telling them who stood beside them, and I heard them putting questions to, or holding conversations with, creature who were invisible to me. The time went on, and I believed I was going to be left out of it, when I heard a voice close to my ear whisper, "Arthur." At the same moment Maud Lord's voice sounded in my direction, saying that the lady in the brown velvet hat had a gentleman standing near her, named "Arthur," who wished to be recognized. I was the only lady present in a brown velvet hat, yet I could not recall any deceased friend of the name of "Arthur" who might wish to communicate with me. (It is a constant occurrence at a _seance_ that the mind refuses to remember a name, or a circ.u.mstance, and on returning home, perhaps the whole situation makes itself clear, and one wonders how one could have been so dull as not to perceive it.) So I said that I knew no one in the spirit-world of that name, and Maud Lord replied, "Well, _he_ knows _you_, at all events." A few more minutes elapsed, when I felt a touch on the third finger of my left hand, and the voice spoke again and said, "Arthur! 'Arthur's ring.' Have you quite forgotten?" This action brought the person to my memory, and I exclaimed, "Oh! Johnny Cope, is it you?"

To explain this, I must tell my readers that when I went out to India in 1854, Arthur Cope of the Lancers was a pa.s.senger by the same steamer; and when we landed in Madras, he made me a present of a diamond ring, which I wore at that _seance_ as a guard. But he was never called by anything but his nickname of "Johnny," so that his real appellation had quite slipped my memory. The poor fellow died in 1856 or 1857, and I had been ungrateful enough to forget all about him, and should never have remembered his name had it not been coupled with the ring. It would have been still more remarkable, though, if Maud Lord, who had never seen me till that evening, had discovered an incident which happened thirty years before, and which I had completely forgotten.

Before I had been many days in New York, I fell ill again from exposing myself to the weather, this time with a bad throat. Mrs. S---- and I slept in the same room, and our sitting-room opened into the bedroom.

She was indefatigable in her attentions and kindness to me during my illness, and kept running backwards and forwards from the bedroom to the sitting-room, both by night and day, to get me fresh poultices, which she kept hot on the steam stove.

One evening about eleven o'clock she got out of bed in her nightdress, and went into the next room for this purpose. Almost directly after she entered it, I heard a heavy fall. I called her by name, and receiving no answer, became frightened, jumped out of bed, and followed her. To my consternation, I found her stretched out, at full length, on a white bearskin rug, and quite insensible. She was a delicate woman, and I thought at first that she had fainted from fatigue; but when she showed no signs of returning consciousness, I became alarmed. I was very weak myself from my illness, and hardly able to stand, but I managed to put on a dressing-gown and summon the a.s.sistance of a lady who occupied the room next to us, and whose acquaintance we had already made. She was strong and capable, and helped me to place Mrs. S---- upon the sofa, where she lay in the same condition. After we had done all we could think of to bring her to herself without effect, the next-door lady became frightened. She said to me, "I don't like this. I think we ought to call in a doctor. Supposing she were to die without regaining consciousness." I replied, "I should say the same, excepting I begin to believe she has not fainted at all, but is in a trance; and in that case, any violent attempts to bring her to herself might injure her.

Just see how quietly she breathes, and how very young she looks."

When her attention was called to this fact, the next-door lady was astonished. Mrs. S----, who was a woman past forty, looked like a girl of sixteen. She was a very pretty woman, but with a dash of temper in her expression which spoiled it. Now with all the pa.s.sions and lines smoothed out of it, she looked perfectly lovely. So she might have looked in death. But she was not dead. She was breathing. So I felt sure that the spirit had escaped for a while and left her free. I covered her up warmly on the sofa, and determined to leave her there till the trance had pa.s.sed. After a while I persuaded the next-door lady to think as I did, and to go back to her own bed. As soon as she had gone, I administered my own poultice, and sat down to watch beside my friend.

The time went on until seven in the morning--seven hours she had lain, without moving a limb, upon the sofa--when, without any warning, she sat up and gazed about her. I called her by name, and asked her what she wanted; but I could see at once, by her expression, that she did not know me. Presently she asked me, "Who are you?" I told her. "Are you Kate's friend?" she said. I answered, "Yes." "Do you know who _I_ am?"

was the next question, which, of course, I answered in the negative.

Mrs. S---- thereupon gave me the name of a German gentleman which I had never heard before. An extraordinary scene then followed. Influenced by the spirit that possessed her, Mrs. S---- rose and unlocked a cabinet of her own, which stood in the room, and taking thence a bundle of old letters, she selected several and read portions of them aloud to me. She then told me a history of herself and the gentleman whose spirit was speaking through her, and gave me several messages to deliver to herself the following day. It will be sufficient for me to say that this history was of so private a nature, that it was most unlikely she would have confided it to me or any one, particularly as she was a woman of a most secretive nature; but names, addresses, and even words of conversations were given, in a manner which would have left no room for doubt of their truthfulness, even if Mrs. S---- had not confirmed them to be facts afterwards. This went on for a long time, the spirit expressing the greatest animosity against Mrs. S---- all the while, and then the power seemed suddenly to be spent, and she went off to sleep again upon the sofa, waking up naturally about an hour afterwards, and very much surprised to hear what had happened to her meanwhile. When we came to consider the matter, we found that this unexpected seizure had taken place upon _the 17th of March_, the day predicted by Mrs. Philips four years previously as one on which a new era would commence for Mrs.

S----. From that time she continually went into trances, and used to predict the future for herself and others; but whether she has kept it up to this day I am unable to say, as I have heard nothing from her since I left America.

That event took place on the 13th of June, 1885. We had been in the habit of spending our Sunday evenings in Miss Roberts' _seance_ room, and she begged me not to miss the last opportunity. When we arrived there, we found that the accompanist who usually played the harmonium for them was unable to be present, and Miss Roberts asked if I would be his subst.i.tute. I said I would, on condition that they moved the instrument on a line with the cabinet, so that I might not lose a sight of what was going on. This was accordingly done, and I commenced to play "Thou art gone from my gaze." Almost immediately "John Powles" stepped out, dressed in uniform, and stood by the harmonium with his hand upon my shoulder. "I never was much of a singer, you know, Flo," he said to me; "but if you will sing that song with me, I'll try and go through it." And he actually did sing (after a fashion) the entire two verses of the ballad, keeping his hand on my shoulder the whole time. When we came to the line, "I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream," he stooped down and whispered in my ear, "Not _quite_ in vain, Flo, has it been?"

I do not know if my English Spiritualistic friends can "cap" this story, but in America they told me it was quite a unique performance, particularly at a public _seance_, where the jarring of so many diverse influences often hinders instead of helping the manifestations.

"Powles" appeared to be especially strong on that occasion. Towards the middle of the evening a kind of whining was heard to proceed from the cabinet; and Miss Roberts, who was not entranced, said, "There's a baby coming out for Miss Marryat." At the same time the face of little "Yonnie" appeared at the opening of the curtains, but nearly level with the ground, as she was crawling out on all fours. Before she had had time to advance beyond them, "Powles" stepped over her and came amongst us. "Oh, Powles!" I exclaimed, "you used to love my little babies. Do pick up that one for me that I may see it properly." He immediately returned, took up "Yonnie," and brought her out into the circle on his arm. The contrast of the baby's white kind of nightgown with his scarlet uniform was very striking. He carried the child to each sitter that it might be thoroughly examined; and when he had returned "Yonnie" to the cabinet, he came out again on his own account. That evening I was summoned into the cabinet myself by the medium's guide, a little Italian girl, who had materialized several times for our benefit. When I entered it, I stumbled up against Miss Roberts' chair. There was barely room for me to stand beside it. She said to me, "Is that _you_, Miss Marryat?"

and I replied, "Yes; didn't you send for me?" She said "No; I didn't send, I know nothing about it!" A voice behind me said, "_I_ sent for you!" and at the same moment two strong arms were clasped round my waist, and a man's face kissed me over my shoulder. I asked, "Who are you?" and he replied, "Walk out of the cabinet and you shall see." I turned round, two hands were placed upon my shoulders, and I walked back into the circle with a tall man walking behind me in that position. When I could look at him in the gaslight, I recognized my brother, Frank Marryat, who died in 1855, and whom I had never seen since. Of course, the other spirits who were familiar with Mrs. S---- and myself came to wish me a pleasant voyage across the Atlantic, but I have mentioned them all so often that I fear I must already have tired out the patience of my readers. But in order to be impressive it is so necessary to be explicit. All I can bring forward in excuse is, that every word I have written is the honest and unbia.s.sed truth. Here, therefore, ends the account of my experience in Spiritualism up to the present moment--not, by any means, the half, nor yet _the quarter of it_, but all I consider likely to interest the general public. And those who have been interested in it may see their own friends as I have done, if they will only take the same trouble that I have done.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

"QUI BONO?"

My friends have so often asked me this question, that I think, before I close this book, I am justified in answering it, at all events, as far as I myself am concerned. How often have I sat, surrounded by an interested audience, who knew me too well to think me either a lunatic or a liar; and after I have told them some of the most marvellous and thrilling of my experiences, they have a.s.sailed me with these questions, "But what _is_ it? And what _good_ does it do? _What is it?_" There, my friends, I confess you stagger me! I can no more tell you what it is than I can tell you what _you_ are or what _I_ am. We know that, like Topsy, we "grew." We know that, given certain conditions and favorable accessories, a child comes into this world, and a seed sprouts through the dark earth and becomes a flower; but though we know the cause and see the effect, the greatest man of science, or the greatest botanist, cannot tell you how the child is made, nor how the plant grows. Neither can I (or any one) tell you _what_ the power is that enables a spirit to make itself apparent. I can only say that it can do so, and refer you to the Creator of you and me and the entire universe. The commonest things the earth produces are all miracles, from the growing of a mustard seed to the expansion of a human brain. What is more wonderful than the hatching of an egg? You see it done every day. It has become so common that you regard it as an event of no consequence. You know the exact number of days the bird must sit to produce a live chicken with all its functions ready for nature's use, but you see nothing wonderful in it.

All birds can do the same, and you would not waste your time in speculating on the wondrous effect of heat upon a liquid substance which turns to bone and blood and flesh and feathers.

If you were as familiar with the reappearance of those who have gone before as you are with chickens, you would see nothing supernatural in their manifesting themselves to you, and nothing more miraculous than in the birth of a child or the hatching of an egg. Why should it be? Who has fixed the abode of the spirit after death? Who can say where it dwells, or that it is not permitted to return to this world, perhaps to live in it altogether? Still, however the Almighty sends them, the fact remains that they come, and that thousands can testify to the fact. As to the theory advanced by some people that they are devils, sent to lure us to our destruction, that is an insult to the wisdom or mercy of an Omnipotent Creator. They cannot come except by His permission, just as He sends children to some people and withholds them from others. And the conversation of most of those that I have talked with is all on the side of religion, prayer, and self-sacrifice. _My_ friends, at all events, have never denied the existence of a G.o.d or a Saviour. They have, on the contrary (and especially "Florence"), been very quick to rebuke me for anything I may have done that was wrong, for neglect of prayer and church-going, for speaking evil of my neighbors, or any other fault.

They have continually inculcated the doctrine that religion consists in unselfish love to our fellow-creatures, and in devotion to G.o.d. I do not deny that there are frivolous and occasionally wicked spirits about us.

Is it to be wondered at? For one spirit that leaves this world calculated to do good to his fellow-creatures, a hundred leave it who will do him harm. That is really the reason that the Church discourages Spiritualism. She does not disbelieve in it. She knows it to be true; but she also knows it to be dangerous. Since like attracts like, the numbers of thoughtless spirits who still dwell on earth would naturally attract the numbers of thoughtless spirits who have left it, and their influence is best dispensed with. Talk of devils. I have known many more devils in the flesh than out of it, and could name a number of acquaintances who, when once pa.s.sed out of this world, I should steadfastly refuse to have any communication with. I have no doubt myself whatever as to _what_ it is, or that I have seen my dear friends and children as I knew them upon earth. But _how_ they come or _where_ they go, I must wait until I join them to ascertain, even if I shall do it then.

The second question, however, I can more easily deal with, _What good is it?_ The only wonder to me is that people who are not stone-blind to what is going on in this world can put such a question. What good is it to have one's faith in Immortality and another life confirmed in an age of freethought, scepticism and utter callousness? When I look around me and see the young men nowadays--ay, and the young women too--who believe in no hereafter, who lie down and die, like the dumb animals who cannot be made to understand the love of the dear G.o.d who created them although they feel it, I cannot think of anything calculated to do them more good than the return of a father or a mother or a friend, who could convince them by ocular demonstration that there is a future life and happiness and misery, according to the one we have led here below.

"Oh, but," I seem to hear some readers exclaim, "we _do_ believe in all that you say. We have been taught so from our youth up, and the Bible points to it in every line." You may _think_ you believe it, my friends, and in a theoretical way you may; but you do not _realize_ it, and the whole of your lives proves it. Death, instead of being the blessed portal to the Life Elysian, the gate of which may swing open for you any day, and admit you to eternal and unfading happiness, is a far-off misty phantom, whose approach you dread, and the sight of which in others you run away from. The majority of people avoid the very mention of death.

They would not look at a corpse for anything; the sight of a coffin or a funeral or a graveyard fills them with horror; the idea of it for themselves makes them turn pale with fright. Is _this_ belief in the existence of a tender Father and a blessed home waiting to receive them on the other side? Even professed Christians experience what they term a "natural" horror at the thought of death! I have known persons of fixed religious principles who had pa.s.sed their lives (apparently) in prayer, and expressed their firm belief in Heaven waiting for them, fight against death with all their mortal energies, and try their utmost to baffle the disease that was sent to carry them to everlasting happiness.

Is this logical? It is tantamount in my idea to the pauper in the workhouse who knows that directly the gate is open to let him through, he will pa.s.s from skilly, oak.u.m, and solitary confinement to the King's Palace to enjoy youth, health, and prosperity evermore; and who, when he sees the gates beginning to unclose, puts his back and all his neighbors' backs against them to keep them shut as long as possible.