THE MAN IN THE MARYLEBONE ROAD
It is thirty years ago since I became a convert to Spiritualism. At that
time I made up my mind that I would attend fifty seances, and if, out of
that number, I did not come across one that I could be absolutely
certain was genuine I would attend no more. Spiritualism, in itself,
never interested me, but I was determined to see for myself if there was
really anything in it.
I attended twenty-nine seances before I happened on one that was
absolutely convincing. Several had been almost convincing, but a
loophole for fraud had remained, and so long as that was the case I
persevered.
I went one summer morning to see an old man who lived in the Marylebone
Road. I was shown up into a sunny little room on the first floor. It had
neither carpet, curtains nor window blind, and it looked on the street.
The furniture consisted of a plain, uncovered deal table in the middle
of a clean planked floor, and eight plain uncovered deal chairs were
ranged round the walls. The room was utterly destitute of ornament,
there was not even a clock, and I was the only occupant.
Soon the old man entered, a very ordinary looking person, and civilly
asked what I wanted.
I said that I understood he was possessed of psychic powers, and I would
like to see an exhibition of them.
He smiled and answered, "My fee is two-and-six for a quarter of an
hour. Choose your own phenomenon, and I'll see what I can do."
I was puzzled at first, and looked round the bare walls for inspiration.
There was not even a photograph or picture. Then suddenly I thought of
something rather silly.
"Please make those four chairs opposite to us cross the floor and mount
on to the table," I said.
The old man drew his chair quite close to mine, "Then give me your
hand." I removed my glove and did as he asked.
He looked, not at the chairs, but into my face, and I at once warned
him.
"I am no good as a subject for hypnotism, so it is useless to try."
He laughed and answered, "I am not a hypnotist, but I see you have
power. You may as well lend me some. You are young, and I am old."
At that second my attention was distracted by a grating sound, and I
forgot all about my companion. I saw the four chairs leave the wall and
advance towards the table, in exactly the position, and tilted forward,
they would be in if a human hand was dragging them across the floor.
There appeared to be four invisible hands at the work. Then, one by one,
they were neatly balanced, one on the top of the other, on the table.
When the manifestation was complete I remembered the old man, and looked
round at him. He was watching the business, as keenly interested as I
was.
"Good boys! good boys," I heard him murmur.
"How is it done?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "The Petris (spirits) do it. I don't."
"Then ask 'the Petris' to put the chairs neatly back again."
"The Petris" performed this feat very expeditiously, and I paid
two-and-sixpence and departed. There was no loophole here for fraud, not
a wire, or string, or any human manipulation, and I was not hypnotized.
I never have been. For that sort of test I had seen enough.
Shortly after I witnessed a materialization in broad daylight. I was
free to move about the room, and stand by the medium as she lay bound
and deeply entranced. I was free to make any examinations I pleased,
whilst others present conversed with the spirit, and I left the house
absolutely convinced of the genuineness of that phenomenon.
That was the last test seance I attended, and for years afterwards I did
not interest myself in spiritualism, nor did I attend many private
sittings.
Towards the close of the South African War I was ordered from "the other
side" to begin again, but on different lines. I was ordered to be a
medium.
A man whom I barely knew, and who had passed over, wished to communicate
with his people. This put me in a quandary. I hardly knew his people,
and their social position was not such as could be treated
unceremoniously by a casual acquaintance. I had never heard that they
were interested in "other side" subjects. The very little I knew of them
suggested quite the reverse.
I consulted with my husband. "One cannot," I argued, "go up to people
who are almost strangers and tell them their son wishes to communicate
with them through me."
My husband quite saw the difficulty, but it had always happened that
when any one wished to communicate with us, and we paid no attention, we
were given no peace till we did take heed, and sat down with an Ouija
board to receive the message. He therefore proposed that we should
consult Mr. A. P. Sinnett, now such a well-known writer on Occultism,
and an old friend of ours. We therefore laid the matter before him.
His reply was uncompromising.
"Do as you are told from the other side. It is not for you to question
or consider the social consequences to yourselves."
This advice we immediately followed, and we were met with the utmost
kindness and sympathetic understanding. Sittings were arranged,
communication established. Test questions were put, which we did not
understand, but which were satisfactory to the questioners, and for many
years the sittings continued until the "other side" made arrangements
for a change of mediums and I was set free for other work. I say, set
free, because during all those years we had held ourselves entirely at
the disposal of this wonderful spirit, who communicated through me, and
it is no exaggeration to say that our daily lives, our worldly plans,
entirely depended upon his wishes. He had his own work to do, and our
earth lives were always arranged to suit his convenience.
About the same time as the above experience began my husband was
disturbed by noises in his library, and he came to the conclusion that
some one had something to say and was determined to say it. One evening,
when the disturbance prevented serious reading, we sat down with the
Ouija board. The result was as follows--
A spirit who purported to be a well-known soldier of fortune who had
lately committed suicide, desired to give a message. This astonished us,
as we had known him only slightly, and we wondered why he had chosen to
bestow his attentions on us. He said he was very unhappy because he owed
a certain sum of money to a friend, whom I will call B. This money B.
could have refunded to him if he would communicate with a certain London
address, which the departed soldier gave us in full.
We knew B., and knew that he had been a close friend of the departed. We
also knew that B. was on the Gold Coast. We promised, however, to send
him the message, and that was the last we ever heard of the soldier.
My husband wrote to B. on the Gold Coast simply giving him the message
and leaving it at that. We were sure B. was an absolute skeptic. He was!
and did nothing till his return to England three years later, when he
applied at the address which he happened to have kept, and received his
money.
I first became interested in Occultism, not only through my own very
early experiences, but through hearing as a mere child that my
grandfather, Robert the younger of the two well-known publishing
brothers, W. and R. Chambers, had investigated spiritualism to his
entire satisfaction.
In those days, about 1860, scientific men did not trouble about occult
subjects, which were deemed beneath their notice. Science was so
strictly orthodox that my grandfather published his "Vestiges of
Creation" anonymously. It created an enormous sensation, and upon that
book and the writings of Lamarck, Darwin founded his "Origin of
Species." Robert Chambers determined to go to America and investigate
for himself the reported marvelous happenings there. He had sittings
with all the renowned mediums, bringing to bear upon their phenomena the
acumen of his scientific mind, and he returned to Europe a convinced
believer. He carried on regular sittings with Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall
and other intellectuals, and with General Drayson, then a young beginner
who went very far in his investigations before he died.
About the year 1885 I happened to be staying at Hawarden with Mr. and
Mrs. Gladstone, and the only other guest, outside the family party, was
the late Canon Malcolm McColl, through whose instrumentality I became a
member of the Psychical Society.
McColl was a most interesting personality, a leading light on matters
occult, and a famous recounter of ghost stories. He was also _persona
grata_ in the Gladstone household, and Mrs. Gladstone often spoke to me
of their deep love for him.
I forget now what led up to the subject, but one night, when we were
sitting talking, I told Mr. Gladstone that my grandfather, Robert
Chambers, had been a convinced spiritualist. The Canon at once tried to
draw the G.O.M., and to our mutual amazement his arguments in favor of
the return of the disembodied soul to earth were met by concurring short
ejaculations, such as "Of course! Naturally! Why, certainly!"
Then quite suddenly Mr. Gladstone began to prove to us that the old
Biblical scribes were convinced spiritualists. From his intimate
knowledge of the Bible he quoted text after text in support of his
contention. "Here He worked no wonders because the people were wanting
in faith," he compared to the present day medium's difficulty in
working with skeptics. When Christ asked, "Who has touched Me? Much
virtue has passed out of Me," He but spoke as many a modern healer
speaks on feeling a failure of power. "Try the spirits whether they be
of God," is what all spiritualists of to-day should practice rigorously.
Conan Doyle, in his book, "The New Revelation," touches upon those
facts, and it was only on reading his book with profound interest that I
remembered the impressive talk I had so many years ago with Mr.
Gladstone. As Conan Doyle truly says, "The early Christian Church was
saturated with spiritualism."
What, it may be asked, is the value to a woman of psychic experiences,
whose reality may be convincing to herself, but never to others?
Firstly, there is this enormous value for me, that certain psychic
experiences I have had make a future existence, after so-called death, a
certainty.
Secondly, other varieties of psychic phenomena have furnished me with
unmistakable proof that I possess an immortal soul.
Thirdly, still other varieties of experiences have provided me with the
implicit belief in a God, who is in actual touch with Humanity.
Again, all soul experiences, begotten from out the supreme mystery of
Being, show us that our real life is not contained in our present normal
consciousness, but in a vastly wider, grander plane, which, as yet, is
but dimly sensed by the few.
Those who have bathed in "the light invisible" can bring glory to those
in gloom. They visit, but no longer live in the day. Their glory is in
the night, when they walk with the Immortals, and bear with them the
golden lamps of life eternal. Those who have realized the powers within,
powers which not only are the pillars of infinite harmony, but the
mainspring of eternal life, have builded on a rock which no tempest can
destroy.
"'Tis time
New hopes should animate the world,
New light should dawn from new revealings to a race
Weighed down so long."
PARACELSUS.