NEW YORK. 1850.
"THE ROCHESTER KNOCKINGS AT BARNUM'S HOTEL"--HARD WORK--OUR
VISITORS--A POISONED BOUQUET--HAIR OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON I.--HAIR
OF JOHN C. CALHOUN--INVESTIGATION AT RESIDENCE OF REV. RUFUS W.
GRISWOLD, BY THE LEADING LITERARY CELEBRITIES OF NEW YORK.
FIRST VISIT TO NEW YORK.
We arrived in New York City on June 4, 1850, and had engaged rooms at
Barnum's Hotel, corner of Broadway and Maiden Lane. (This proprietor
must not be confounded with the great showman of that name.)
Horace Greeley was our first caller. He advised us to charge five
dollars admission fee. I told him that would be altogether too much; but
he feared greatly for our safety, and thought this exorbitant sum would
keep the rabble away. I told him I thought it decidedly better to follow
the directions of the Spirits, and trust in Providence for protection
and success. He announced our arrival in the _Tribune_, and published
our rules of order. The editors of the _Tribune_ and many other papers
were in our rooms daily. Mr. Ripley used to say to us: "Ladies, you are
the lions of New York." Mary Taylor, in a Broadway theatre, sweetly sang
"The Rochester Knockings at Barnum's Hotel," as a popular topic of the
day. Many things in stores, on sidewalks, and newspaper advertisements,
were paraded and labelled with the words "Rochester Knockings."
What a time, to be sure, we had of it during that first visit, of
nearly three months, to the great metropolis! Our party was seven in
number. Our parlor was a large room opposite to the main one of the
hotel, from which it was separated by a wide corridor. A long table with
thirty seats occupied the centre of it, and we gave three receptions
each day, for which our advertised hours were: 10 to 12 A.M., 3 to 5
P.M., and 8 to 10 P.M.; but the midday meeting would often lengthen out
till we had barely time to get ready for dinner, and the evening one to
midnight. The public parlors served as ante-rooms, in which visitors
waited their turns to be admitted by one of our attendant gentlemen.
Private sittings were often extorted from us by importunity, which
would begin at the earliest hours before breakfast. With what degree of
exhaustion of muscles, nerves, mind and spirit, we would reach our beds
(in our rooms on the floor above), where sleep was often slow to come to
our over-strained systems, may be imagined by my readers. The mere
pressure upon us of the three successive crowds would, alone, have been
a strain hard to bear; but every individual had his or her colloquies
to be held with their respective Spirit friends. The burthen of it fell
upon us all, but most heavily upon our dear mother, who took it so
deeply to heart when she knew we were so unjustly suspected and so
severely tested. She was of course always present with us, but only as a
spectator and for protection. Ministers of all denominations, members of
all professions, legal, medical, literary, and commercial, were among
our guests, and many of them were frequent visitors. The occasions were
rare when the slightest want of courtesy, respect, and kindness occurred
to wound or displease us; and the only thing approaching an indignity
we had to complain of among ourselves, was the frequency with which
committees of ladies would retire with us to disrobe and reclothe us,
the holding of our feet, etc.
Among the thousands of strangers who streamed through our rooms, I, of
course, could know or remember the names of but few individuals; and
many an one had his or her designation by which we used to recognize
them, as--the White Spirit, or the Black, or the Gray, the Count, the
Slick Wig, the Old Oriental, the Hippopotamus, etc., etc. By the way,
the Count was also an elderly gentleman with white hair and angelic
eyes, a foreigner, who at parting made me a present of a set of old
china of extreme rarity, for which I have since refused a dealer's offer
of a thousand dollars, and which I still employ at parties and fêtes,
and particular occasions, and always with a kind thought of the dear old
donor. The summer season of travel, of course, brought many Southerners
to our rooms, as well as visitors from other cities of the Union.
We again passed through an ordeal of special investigation by a large
committee of the first men of New York, in scientific and literary, as
well as social distinction, which took place at the residence of the
Rev. Rufus W. Griswold, for some account of which, and the signal
triumph in which it resulted, I refer to a letter which will be found
further on, and which was extensively republished.
Only one very painful thing occurred: an anonymous present made to me of
a large, superb bouquet of flowers, the smelling of which nearly cost
me my life. I was thought to be at death's door; and a week had passed
before I fully recovered from the effect. Spirits told us that it had
proceeded from the malignity of a hostile quarter, and that the bouquet
was poisoned.
I have always had a peculiar sensitiveness to poison; and could not
even now, in the open air, pass near to certain growing plants, such as
poison ivy, without suffering sensibly from their vicinity.
There was another occasion on which evil was not only intended, but
attempted, by some who falsely believed they were doing God service by
breaking up the "pestilent Rochester knockings." We, too, had our case
of a "prophet" (Isaiah) sent to curse, but who remained to bless.
Our "prophet," of whom this was true, was none other than the famous
Captain I. Rynders, well known as the Captain of the Empire Club--a
Democratic party organization of "fighting men," the counterpoise to a
corresponding body on the other side of politics. These rival corps had,
originally, for their business the breaking up of the meetings of the
adverse party, or to defend those of their own party against similar
attacks from the opposite fighting corps. Captain Rynders, though a
rather slender man, was one of such pluck, energy, and resolution, that
his very name came to represent a real power in New York. His politics,
in which he was very zealous, made him (as most men of that day were, on
both sides) very hostile to "the Abolitionists," many a meeting of
whom the Empire Club had broken up after the most summary of fashions,
namely, through windows as well as doors. One day three men, one of
them of Herculean proportions, with his shirt-collar wide open, sailor
fashion, on a brown sunburnt neck, entered our parlor, after payment of
their regular fee outside, and took their seats together; the Hercules
next to me. His appearance was every way formidable. A certain slight
commotion was manifest in the company on their entrance. I soon received
from three different friends in the room (Mr. Greeley, George Ripley,
and another) little billets warning me against "the most dangerous man
in New York"--whose appearance "portended evil," and telling me to be
"extremely careful" of all I should say and do, etc. One lady bent over
me from behind, handed me a bit of paper which spoke of "black danger
clouds," and a row as being imminent from "those men," and then made
her escape into one of the more remote parlors of the hotel. But they
sat quietly as observers. There were several clergymen in the company,
one of them being the celebrated Dr. Phelps, of Stratford, Conn. There
were at the table also two elderly, tall, thin, and pale Quaker maiden
ladies, a little ghostly perhaps in appearance, one of whom presently
addressed to the Spirits the question, "Which is the more correct, the
Bible or Andrew Jackson Davis's Revelations?" To this came many raps,
which were differently understood around the table, according to the
various opinions. It made quite a sensation. I rose and said that those
raps were not an answer to the question, but a call for the alphabet,
which I proceeded to repeat aloud as usual. The answer returned was:
"The Bible contains many true and beautiful things, and so also does
Davis's Revelations," a reply which Dr. Phelps considered a good and
wise one. I presently invited one of my three neighbors (not the
Herculean one) to the door, which I opened, and he was made to hear loud
rappings on the wooden panels, and also on the marble flooring.
My real object was to conciliate him as being one of the party of
"danger clouds," though he was not the one who had been the object of my
terror. "What is the meaning of this?" he said. "Have _you_ anything to
do with the Rochester knockings? I thought those two white old maids
were the ones. I was sent here by a religious society to break it all
up, and drive it out of New York, as I did last week with Fred. Douglass
and Julia Griffith, and their sets of Abolitionists." I told him he had
been very wrong in doing so, and that those ladies were strangers here,
as he and his friends were. "What, are _you_ the Rochester knockers?"
"Yes." "Why, I thought you were older. Ain't you afraid of me? What,
these children!" "No, I am not a bit afraid of you," I repeated, though
in my secret heart I was dreadfully afraid of the other man. "Well, I am
Captain Rynders--haven't you heard of me?" "Yes, I have, but I am not
afraid of you." He took a seat at the table, and I invited him to ask
some questions of some friends of his in the Spirit world. He asked a
brother of his where he had died--"In California," was the correct
reply. "Of what disease?" To this also he got a reply, which, with a
strong blow of his fist on the table, he admitted to be correct.
Captain Rynders was now our friend, and a good and gallant one he
proved. He made the _Herald_ publish a long account of it in our favor;
the only occasion of its doing anything of the kind. He said that nobody
should molest us; that he saw no reason why it should be done, and
he emphasized this with a strong blow upon the table. He was indeed
surprised that _we_ were the mediums; he had supposed them to be the old
Quaker women over there (alas, poor good souls!). My relations soon
became equally comfortable with his big friend also, of whom I had been
so afraid. A letter for me was brought in and laid on the table between
him and me. I noticed that he seemed to observe the direction on it
somewhat closely. I presently handed the letter over to mother, saying,
"Here is a letter from our dear friend Maria Rogers." Said my big
neighbor, "Why, where did you ever know Maria Rogers?" "In Albany, at
the Delavan House, where her husband had some business position. She is
one of the sweetest women I ever knew, and I love her dearly. She was
also very beautiful." "She is all that you say," was his reply, "and she
is my own darling sister." The letter proved to be an invitation to
spend Sunday with her at the Oceanic House. I had no further fear of her
big brother, who, together with Captain Rynders, would certainly have
pitched all the rest of the company out of the window in our defence,
had it been necessary. Such was the conversion of our "prophet," from
the cursing for which he had been commissioned, to blessings. I have
since been assured by those who knew him, that Captain Rynders was
really a good man at heart, with other manly qualities besides his
courage, notwithstanding his animosity against the Abolitionists of that
period, and others against whom the energies of the Empire Club had been
directed by his party. I have some reason to believe that he has been a
happier man from that time than before. I was sincerely glad to see him
a few weeks ago, when he called on me, by my request, to compare notes
upon our reminiscences of this adventure, and I was indeed astonished to
hear so young a looking man avow that he was now eighty years of age.
At all our séances the general character of the manifestations was
that all present heard the explosive sounds or "knockings," whose
significance resided in their correspondence with the letters of the
alphabet; while each in succession had the opportunity of communicating
with his own friends in the spirit life. Nor do I believe that a single
person passed through the experience of one of those meetings who was
not satisfied, in his own sincere mind, that we had nothing of physical
relation to their production, and that no conceivable mundane means
could have produced them.
Though in our own domestic experience remarkable phenomena of the
physical order had often been produced by the Spirits, such, for
instance, as the rising of objects in the air, including our own
persons, etc., yet nothing of this kind occurred at these meetings,
beyond the phenomenon of the sitters being touched, sometimes
caressingly, by invisible hands, or having their garments pulled, or
their chairs or the table moved--which were frequent experiences to our
visitors.
I cannot afford the space for numerous individual incidents of interest
which occurred at those meetings, but will mention one, which is not
likely to be forgotten by some of the witnesses to it, who may perhaps
read this page. A stranger came one day, of evident distinction and
advanced years, French, though speaking English; I have a vague
impression that he was a diplomatist. He had with him a friend. He
produced a folded paper or envelope, and asked if the Spirits could tell
him what it contained. The answer promptly came, "A piece of the hair of
the Emperor Napoleon." This naturally arrested the eager attention of
all the company. I trembled with doubt and fear of a failure. The old
gentleman opened the paper and held up a small piece of hair, and, with
tears in his eyes and quivering lips, said--either he had been one of
those who accompanied Napoleon on his voyage to St. Helena, or that he
was a friend of the physician who had accompanied him. After this
lapse of time I am not certain which, but something was said about the
physician. He told how on an occasion of his hair being cut by the
barber, the fallen pieces had been religiously gathered up, and this was
one of them. Turning to his friend who had come with him, he said, "I
did not need this evidence, but this test is evidently intended for
you;" and then explained that in the morning his friend, who was an
entire unbeliever, had said, in reference to their intended visit to us,
that if we were subjected to that test, and if it should be told what
were the contents of the envelope, he would be a believer too. I
remember that Mr. Greeley and Mr. Ripley, of the _Tribune_, were
present. If this should fall under the eye of any survivors of that
scene, I should be pleased to hear from them. None present can have
forgotten it.
There were a number of somewhat similar cases of treasured locks of hair
being thus identified by those who had worn them in life, but though
there are many whose hair is thus preserved by faithful memories, there
has been but one Napoleon the Great.
However, I will further add that if there was but one Napoleon I., there
was also but one John C. Calhoun. One day a Southern gentleman was at
the table, and, having heard of the above incident respecting the great
Emperor, produced and laid down his pocket-book, asking to know one
thing it contained. "Hair of John C. Calhoun," was the reply. He
acknowledged its truth, and exhibited the lock.
During this our first visit to New York occurred another "investigation"
by a number of the most eminent literary and commercial gentlemen of
that city, at the residence of the Rev. Rufus W. Griswold. It included
such men as J. Fenimore Cooper, George Bancroft, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr.
John W. Francis, William Cullen Bryant, Nathaniel P. Willis, Dr. Marcy,
and others. It had its origin with the Dr. C. D. Griswold, M.D. (our
friend at Rochester, mentioned on a former page), who came down to New
York expressly to propose it to us, telling us that the high position of
his brother, Rufus W., would enable him to unite for that purpose the
best elements which the great metropolis could afford. We were only too
glad to comply with so kind and friendly a suggestion. In the wilderness
of my papers I do not find the full records of that interesting
occasion, of which no full formal report was ever issued; but I well
remember that it was highly satisfactory to ourselves and our friends.
All the testings desired, such as making us stand on cushions, etc.,
were exhausted. I recollect that Fenimore Cooper addressed an immense
number of questions to Spirits (my impression is a hundred and fifty),
and received correct replies. I find among some newspaper scraps a long
editorial in a Sunday paper, by its junior editor, written in the full
vein of hostile persiflage usual at that time with the press, dependent
for existence on its subscription lists, the following as its
conclusion:
"Since writing the above, we have read in the _Tribune_ an account of an
interview between the Spirits' interpreters and Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper,
Mr. George Bancroft, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. Francis, Mr. Wm. Cullen Bryant,
Mr. N. P. Willis, Dr. Marcy, and other literary celebrities, at the
rooms of the Rev. Doctor Griswold. The responses given to several of
these gentlemen, as reported in the _Tribune_, were most extraordinary;
and yet--infidel that we are!--these replies have not shaken our
obstinate incredulity.
"Our senses are the only witnesses we will consent to trust in relation
to phenomena which, if really supernatural, would upset, among other
things, the Christian Religion,[8] and the verdict of our senses upon
all the performances which have come under our observation."
[8] This is a mistake or misrepresentation frequent with those who
regard dogmatic "orthodoxy" (according to the title it claims) as
the true and the only "Christian Religion." All Spirits indeed
reject the dogmas of the eternal hell-fire, of total depravity, of
vicarious atonement, of anything but One Supreme Spirit or God,
and of the literal plenary inspiration of the Bible; but a vast
body of the most enlightened Spiritualists (I believe the bulk of
them) devoutly cherish _the Christianity taught, lived, and died
for by Christ himself_; and a pamphlet by a well-known and popular
Spiritualist is rightly entitled "Christ the Corner-Stone of
Spiritualism."--ED.
Any reader desirous of examining the _Tribune's_ report above alluded
to, can easily find it in the files of that paper for 1850. I content
myself, for brevity's sake, with the following extract from Mr. Capron's
volume on "Spiritualism: Its Facts and Fanaticisms," etc. (1855), page
172:
"But curiosity had so far obtained the mastery of bigoted opposition as
to lead many of the most eminent men of the city to give the subject a
fair investigation. The result was, as elsewhere, the making of many
converts; and these were not from among men of inferior intellects or of
unbalanced minds.
"Not long after the arrival of the mediums, a number of literary
gentlemen assembled at the house of Rev. Dr. Griswold, an Episcopalian
clergyman, in Broadway. Neither of the sisters Fox had ever been at the
house before, and the meeting was called for the purpose of testing, as
far as they were able, the validity of these alleged manifestations.
Among the company were J. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist, Mr. George
Bancroft, the historian, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. J. W. Francis, Dr. Marcy,
Mr. N. P. Willis, Mr. Wm. Cullen Bryant, the poet, and Mr. Bigelow, of
the _Evening Post_, Mr. Richard B. Kimball, Mr. H. Tuckerman, and Gen.
Lyman. These gentlemen were well known throughout the country, and the
report was well calculated to carry much weight with it, let it be on
which side it would. The result was highly satisfactory to the mediums
and their friends. On this occasion Mrs. Fox and her three daughters
were present. Mr. Tuckerman was among the first to interrogate the
Spirits. Among his questions were the following in regard to an
individual whose name he had not spoken, but had simply in his mind:
"'Did he live in New York?' No answer. 'In Baltimore?' 'In Cambridge?'
'In Boston?'--Three distinct raps, which is the sign of an affirmative
answer. A negative reply is indicated by silence. Mr. T. continued, 'Was
he a lawyer?' 'A merchant?' 'A physician?' 'A clergyman?' Knocks. 'Was
he an Episcopalian?' 'A Presbyterian?' 'A Unitarian?'--going over
the names of the principal sects. No answer. At the suggestion of a
gentleman, Mr. T. asked 'Was he a Christian?' Knocks. Mr. T. then asked
the age of the person in a series of tens. 'Was he twenty years old at
the time of his death?' 'Was he thirty?' 'Forty?' 'Fifty?' 'Sixty?'
Knocks. 'Has he left a family?' Knocks. 'Children?' Knocks. 'Five?'
'Three?' 'Two?' Knocks. 'Did he die in Boston?' 'In Philadelphia?' 'In
Albany?' 'In Northampton?' 'In Bennington?' Knocks. 'Did he die of
consumption?' 'Of fever?' 'Of cholera?' 'Of old age?' Knocks.
"The person in Mr. Tuckerman's mind was the late Dr. William Ellery
Channing, the eminent and liberal Unitarian divine. He lived in Boston,
and died in Bennington, Vt., while on a journey.
"Dr. Francis having fixed in his mind the name of an individual, the
'rapping' spelled out B-u-r--when several of the company exclaimed,
spontaneously, 'Robert Burns.' This was the true answer; and after an
interesting interview with the bard of Scotia, the doctor declined
asking any more questions.
"Mr. James Fenimore Cooper then asked, 'Is the person I inquire about
a relative?' 'Yes,' was at once indicated by the knocks. 'A near
relative?' 'Yes.' 'A man?' No answer. 'A woman?' 'Yes.' 'A daughter?' 'A
mother?' 'A wife?' No answer. 'A sister?' 'Yes.' Mr. C. then asked the
number of years since her death. Fifty knocks were given, and the number
unanimously so announced by the company. Mr. C. now asked, 'Did she die
of consumption?' and naming several diseases to which no answer was
given. 'Did she die by accident?' 'Yes.' 'Was she killed by lightning?'
'Was she shot?' 'Was she lost at sea?' 'Did she fall from a carriage?'
'Was she thrown from a horse?' 'Yes.'
"Mr. Cooper here discontinued his investigations, and informed the
company that just fifty years ago that present month he had a sister
thrown from a horse and killed, and that all the answers had been
strictly correct."
Mr. Ripley, one of the editors of the _Tribune_, a man of candor and
great intelligence, drew up the report of the whole proceedings, of
which the above is but a short extract, and in conclusion he says:
"The evening was now far advanced, and it was not thought desirable to
continue our colloquies any further. At the suggestion of several
gentlemen, the ladies removed from the sofa, where they had sat during
the evening, and remained standing in another part of the room. The
knockings were now heard on the doors, at both ends of the room,
producing a vibration on the panels which was felt by every one who
touched them. Different gentlemen stood on the outside and inside of
the door at the same time, when loud knockings were heard on the side
opposite to where they stood. The ladies were at such a distance from
the door, in both cases, as to render no countenance to the idea that
the sounds were produced by any direct communication with them. They
now went into a parlor under the room in which the party was held,
accompanied by several gentlemen, and the sounds were then produced
with great distinctness, causing sensible vibrations in the sofa, and
apparently coming from a thick hearth-rug before the fire-place, as well
as from other quarters of the room.
"Such are the most important facts which we can recall of the
manifestations of the evening. We believe we have stated them without
any coloring whatever, as they appeared to every one present; but, with
regard to their origin or their nature, we are as much in the dark as
any of our readers."
I will add to the above but a few lines. After Fenimore Cooper, and his
responsive friends in the Spirit life, had occupied the floor, so to
speak, for a long time, calls upon him began to arise as to whether any
of his answers were correct. Of course he alone could know, since they
were in the form of raps. Old Dr. Francis, who had sat with his chin
resting on his big cane, and his eyes intently fixed on Mr. Cooper, as
had been the eyes of all the company, began knocking impatiently on
the floor, which example was followed by others, as in the case of an
impatient audience at a theatre. At last Mr. Cooper gave satisfaction to
their curiosity, now wound up to a high pitch, by saying: "Gentlemen,
every single answer has been correct." This was of course no small
relief and satisfaction to us.
And it was a still greater satisfaction when, after his death in
September of the following year, I received a visit from Mr. Cooper's
nephew, with a note from the great novelist, one of the last things
written by his prolific pen, and a message from him on his death-bed,
substantially as follows: "Tell the Fox family I bless them. I have been
made happy through them. They have prepared me for this hour."