NEW YORK CITY _(Continued)_.
OUR BRILLIANT SUCCESS WITH THE SUPERIOR INTELLECTUAL CLASSES--WHISKEY
AT WASHINGTON--COGNIZANCE OF DOMESTIC SECRETS--DISCOMFITURE OF
ANDERSON, "THE WIZARD OF THE NORTH"--REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE WITH
A VERY NOTORIOUS PERSON.
Our rooms were frequented by much of the best society in New York; and
it was common to see the street encumbered with long files of carriages.
Particularly the intellectual and literary classes were familiar
visitors, both at our circles and in our private life. Many of them
became our most intimate friends. Hundreds of promiscuous visitors were
deeply interested, and were, in reality, Spiritualists at heart who had
not the courage to face the social and business disadvantages attaching
to the public avowal of such a novel and unpopular doctrine, which the
clergy, as a rule, denounced. Several of the most highly respected
Senators in Congress having become open and warm Spiritualists--among
whom Gov. N. P. Tallmadge was the most openly zealous--probably nearly
all of that body passed through the experience of our rooms; for I
frequently received telegrams from Washington for private engagements
for a party of a dozen or more. It was remarkable how the superior
classes of actors _took to Spiritualism_, and I have been greatly
interested in them from my earliest acquaintance with them. My tenderest
sympathies have been awakened when sitting in circles with many of them,
who have been raised in my estimation far above the level of those who
fancy themselves to be their superiors.
This Spiritualism is a searcher of hearts, and the truly good get
satisfactory answers and elevated Spirits to guide and watch over them.
But to return to Washington, it was not at that time a very satisfactory
place for the prosecution of Spiritualism: even though it was such a
centre of congregation from all parts of the country. It was, indeed,
a centre of political agitation, and business connected with the
Government; but at that time, at least, too much whiskey was consumed
there. The following letter from my young sister Katie will sufficiently
illustrate this:
"I am tired of my life. Only think of it! Last evening a party of twelve
fine-looking gentlemen visited our rooms. All, but two, were as drunk as
they could well be. They made mean, low remarks. Only imagine Maggie
and me, and dear mother, before a crowd of drunken Senators! One very
fine-looking man stood up before the crowd, and addressed them thus: 'I
wish to be heard, gentlemen. This is all a humbug, but it is worth a
dollar to sit in the sunlight of Miss Kate's eyes.'
"(Margaretta had left in disgust.) At this sudden announcement, all was
still as death. My face was red as fire. A friend walked up to me. He
was from the Navy-yard, and said, 'Don't mind him, he is drunk; I would
not pay the least attention to him. He is a gentleman when sober; and
when I repeat his language to him to-morrow, he will feel ashamed of his
conduct.' We all left the room, and that ended the scene. Oh, dear Leah,
I long to be laid in a peaceful grave. I care not how soon. I would live
on a crust of bread, and drink cold water, if I could live a different
life. Oh, how we wished for you, dear Leah! I told them, if my sister
Leah was with us, they would not dare insult us. They would be escorted
by officers from our rooms.
"Washington is a mean city. I despise nearly everything I meet here.
Gov. Tallmadge and Waddy Thompson are honorable gentlemen. They bring
their friends during our private hours."
I have written these extracts from my child-sister's letter, to more
fully illustrate the dreadful position we held at that time. Still, some
wondered how it was that the "Fox Family" should have been the chosen
ones, through whom Spirits could communicate; and one little incident,
which I can never forget, transpired when we were at Barnum's Hotel,
corner of Maiden Lane and Broadway, 1850.
Dr. Scott, a tall, wiry, wriggling old consequence, walked up to mother
with his smirking smile (the rooms were filled with investigators, and
he wished to appear to great advantage), and said, bending low, "Mrs.
Fox, can you explain why your children should be mediums? Is it because
your family are better than other folk?"
Mother replied, "Dr. Scott, can you explain to me why fresh fish swim in
salt water?" They looked at each other in silence, while the company
roared with laughter.
Experience taught me to adopt a rule not to give private séances to
single strangers, but rather to only two or more at a time. This was not
so much as a safeguard against personal impertinences (for such things
were of rare occurrence, and never repeated), but under the advice of
my Spirit friends, to afford some protection against malignant enemies
who might come (as had happened) under a mask of friendly interest
and honest investigation, and then, when unchecked by the presence of
another witness, give calumnious accounts of their private séances. I
might cite some curious instances of this.
But I should have but few instances to tell of personal impertinence
ever having been addressed to me, though thus living a life which
constantly afforded to promiscuous strangers the free admission to the
presence of myself and my young sisters, protected only by their dignity
and their noble mother's presence. I will mention but one, which
occurred in an Eastern city, in 1857, the hero of which was an important
man who had inherited from a far nobler father one of the greatest names
known to our history. The incident occurred neither in New York nor in
Washington, but to name the city would go far to identify the person.
Five gentlemen were announced at one of my public hours, of whom one was
evidently the most prominent man, and a sort of leader of the company. A
glance sufficed to show that he was considerably intoxicated, and that
some of his companions had had more or less share in the conviviality
which had preceded their visits to the "Spirits" of a different kind. He
is no longer in this life, but some of the rest doubtless survive, and
are not likely to have forgotten the occasion when they had to retire
ignominiously from my rooms at a hotel.
* * * * *
Naturally during the years thus spent in the exercise of my mediumship
in New York, I became acquainted with no small number of domestic
and family affairs of the most delicate--sometimes the most
painful--character. In the private séances so often solicited by
visitors there would arise, in their communication with Spirits,
revelations of secrets the existence of which was little suspected by
the outside world, and which, with me, were under no less absolute and
sacred a sanction of secresy than in the Catholic confessional, or the
confidential relations of the medical man. And it is a happiness for me
to know that, apart from the communications received by visitors from
their Spirit friends, I have many a time and oft had the opportunity of
exerting useful influences on the minds of some whose inmost hearts and
lives have thus been laid open before a sympathetic and sisterly eye.
* * * * *
DISCOMFITURE OF ANDERSON, "THE WIZARD OF THE NORTH."
I am tempted to relate one occurrence of this period, though I do not
remember its exact date. The newspapers will supply it to anybody
desirous of chronological accuracy (it must have been about the middle
of 1853). The famous conjurer Anderson, "The Wizard of the North," was
exhibiting in New York, I believe in the large building called Tripler
Hall, in the rear of a hotel on Broadway, near Bond Street. He had
advertised a challenge to any "poverty-stricken medium" to come to his
hall and attempt to produce their "knockings" if they could, with the
offer of a thousand dollars if they should do so. Possibly he had
expected to crowd his hall for several evenings by this clap-trap, as he
was himself a conjuring trickster by trade, he supposed that we were of
the same kidney, or class, and that we would not venture to accept such
a challenge from him. It happened that we (Katy and I) arrived one
evening at home from a week's absence in Rochester, and were told at the
door by Susie that Judge Edmonds, Dr. Gray, and one or two friends more
were waiting in the parlor to see us. They had known of our expected
arrival at that hour.
Now, the object of our visit to Rochester had been this: I had conveyed
there for burial the body of a beloved member of my family. After that
interment, I was further detained by the death of a nephew, and the same
undertaker remained to conduct this second ceremony. The friends who
were awaiting us at home hastily explained the situation, Anderson's
challenge, etc., and said that we ought to be already at Tripler Hall,
and urged our instant starting. I pleaded the impossibility (physical
and moral), but they insisted that we must not leave that triumph to our
adversaries--for the sake of our cause as well as for our own or that of
our friends. They said that a cup of tea could be prepared and swallowed
in fifteen minutes, and the upshot was that Judge Edmonds drafted a
short note to Mr. Anderson, which I copied and signed, announcing our
acceptance of his challenge and our speedy following after our missive,
with the sole variation from his terms that the one thousand dollars
were to go to some public charity (I forget which), as we would not
accept it. A reliable messenger rushed off to place it in Anderson's
hands. We reached the hall with all possible speed and found it crowded
to its utmost capacity. I had the arm of Judge Edmonds, and Kate that of
Dr. Gray. We arrived in time to hear Anderson reading aloud, at the
front of his stage, the concluding lines of the letter he had received.
He was in a perfect rage, gesticulating in the most violent manner,
denouncing the suddenness with which this had been sprung upon him,
etc., etc., and refusing us admission to his stage. All know that
conjurers usually extend forward a long bridge from their stage over the
pit of the theatre, along which they travel to and fro in the course of
their dealings, and "patter" with the audience. We and our respective
escorts (we, of course, in deepest of crapes, and dropping with
fatigue[11]) ascended the outer steps of this bridge, and moved forward
toward the stage, to which we came very near. But the violence of speech
and action by Anderson, who barred the way at the other end, held us
back. Mr. Partridge spoke from the stage, and Judge Edmonds and Dr. Gray
from their places, relating the facts, how we had that moment returned
from burying our dead, exhausted with fatigue and hunger, and
heart-broken with grief, but had yielded to their appeals to us to come
instantly to meet the challenge which had been addressed to us and
to Spiritualism, with the simple condition that the money staked by
Anderson should go not to us but to a public charity. It may be imagined
what effect all this produced upon the audience. "Fair play to the
Rochester knockings!" "Fair play to the sisters!" etc., etc., mingled
with hisses, seemed to come from every throat. A very little more, and
I believe the "Wizard of the North" would have been mobbed on his own
stage. But finding that we could not gain admission to it while he thus
barred the way, and it being plain and patent to everybody that he had
backed down, and that we and Spiritualism were incontestably triumphant,
the crape-draped figures, with their highly honorable escort, withdrew
as they had come, and glad were we to get back home and to disrobe
ourselves of our travelling dresses. The next day the papers told how
Anderson had backed down, and for a week following redoubled crowds
flocked to our receptions with their congratulations.
[11] In this I but followed in the rut of custom. I do not now
approve of crapes and lugubrious mourning. Why thus parade
insignia of mourning for the mere disappearance of those whom
we know to be now more alive than when they were fettered by
the bonds of sublunary life--far, far happier and higher--and
not less near and loving to us than they had been when we
could see, hear, and feel them with our natural senses? Our
immoderate grief only grieves them. Spiritualism will, one day,
put an end to the trade in crape, "and," the scribe might well
add, "the enormous exactions of the undertaker, which often
impoverish the living but sincere mourners."
The conjurer might, of course, have been sued by us for his $1,000, for
the benefit of a charity; but we were satisfied, and cared no further
for that or for him. He never renewed the challenge, or if he ever did,
in any distant place when we were not there to respond (as is likely
enough, for such is a conjurer's trick), we never heard of it.
The "Wizard" had met with about as bad a fate as the Buffalo doctors,
with their knee theory, the Rev. C. C. Burr, with his toe-ology, and
the Harvard professors, with their unknown theory--promised, but
never put forth. Anderson had, no doubt, never examined the numerous
"investigations" through which we had passed triumphant, and had taken
for granted that we were tricksters, like himself, who needed our own
stage, machinery, etc., and was probably the most astonished of men
and conjurers when he received my unostentatious acceptance of his
challenge, followed up by the _de facto_ appearance of two black-draped
and travel-worn young ladies with their escorts, bearding the lion in
his den, and vainly applying for impromptu admission to his own stage.
* * * * *
REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE WITH A ONCE VERY NOTORIOUS PERSON.
One afternoon in 1852, between five and eight (my private hours), my
good Susie announced a grand lady, apparently, who had come in a fine
carriage with a footman, and who, when told that it was not one of my
hours for receiving, begged to see me for a moment. She was admitted, in
her satins and velvets, of good figure, handsome and striking, though
not beautiful nor longer very young; lady-like in her deportment and
general effect, though I could discover that her language was not
quite up to her elegant style of dress and manner. She made on me the
impression of some woman of rather inferior antecedents, who had been
married by some rich man for her good looks. She wanted simply to make
an engagement for a private hour, which I gave her for the next morning,
and to which she was duly punctual.
She had not been long seated at the table with me, after asking some
questions, when she bent her head down upon the table and wept and
sobbed convulsively, and called on the Spirit of her mother, who,
together with other affectionate expressions, answered in substance, "My
dear child, you were left destitute, and a helpless child, and neglected
and abused by those who should have taken care of you." After recovering
herself, she said, "You little know how this affects me. These are words
of tenderness from my mother; I do believe it, and I am sure of it. I
was, indeed, left a helpless child to the cold charity of the world."
She did not remain very long, nor do I recall more details; but she wept
profusely and sobbed, and took my hand, bidding me good-bye, leaving on
the table the regular fee of $5. I had no reason to expect to see her
again, nor any to doubt her entire respectability.
She soon after came again (my maid Susie announced her as "the rich
lady") and engaged another hour for a private party of her friends.
There came with her, to that appointment, three or four nice-looking and
well-behaved young women, and two little girls, sisters, of nine and
eleven years, whom she presented to me as "my Gracie and my Florence;"
and whom I, at the time, presumed to be her children.
She asked, "Is so and so present?" (I do not recall the name.) "Yes,"
was answered; and she asked, "What shall I do with these dear children?"
The reply came, "You have done well by them so far." They were pretty
and sweet-mannered children, evidently under good training. She said
they were not her own, and that they were being brought up at a superior
seminary in Albany, and that on coming of age they would inherit a good
property. She turned to the children and said, "Your father and mother
are here." "Oh! aunty (clinging to her), what do they say?" "They say
you must continue at school." (The children loved her, and had wanted to
come home to her.) The Spirits then rapped out, "We watch over you
hourly. When you pray we always listen to your prayers." There was
weeping and sobbing between the children and their "Aunty." Some
questions then passed respecting their property and minor matters. I
afterward learned from my good friend, Dr. Wilson, who knew all about
them, that the father, after the death of the mother, had fallen into
relations with my visitor (who, to me, was as yet only "the rich lady"),
and then, when he found his end approaching (from consumption), had
given her his directions about his children, knowing her heart to be
good, and reliable for conformity to them. While this sitting was
going on an interruption occurred, which eventually led up to such
consequences that I must introduce it.
A French woman, an importer of laces and a pedler of them, was announced
by Susie, who knew that I had some business with her about the purchase
of some of her goods, and I had to give her a few minutes. She was a
keen and artful woman, and having noticed the style of the customary
carriages at my door, she asked me if I could not introduce her to some
of my friends, to whom she might sell some of her wares. I yielded to
her request (such women are sometimes irresistible), and the result was
that, on my showing my own lace to my elegant visitors, they examined
the store in her box, and two of them engaged sets of lace from her.
Through her acquaintance thus formed with "the rich lady," at whose
house she had to deliver her laces, she learned who she was, and it
was easy in New York then for such a woman to learn all about her. It
will be seen below that the consequences were serious for my poor
visitor, "the rich lady." This French lace dealer had heard about the
"manifestations" at my house, and even knew something about such things
in France, and in her visits to that house, to me unknown, as was
equally the name of its mistress, she took on herself the character of a
clairvoyant medium, and played upon them plenty of her cunning tricks,
such as pretended entrancement, etc., for which perhaps a door may have
been opened through the genuine experience they had had with me.
My still anonymous friend, "the rich lady," paid me afterward another
visit, in which she still kept me ignorant of who she was. She came
alone this time, and unbosomed many of her sorrows to me. (How many
others have done so! some men, but chiefly women!) While she was there
in the parlor a gentleman came in (Dr. Schoonmaker, a dentist, of 12th
Street, a friend of mine, who I believe is still living and remembers
it) and was introduced into the back room. By some accident of the
opening of the door, he caught a glimpse of my visitor in the front
room. He said to me, "Mrs. Brown, are you aware who that is in your
front room?" I said that we knew her as "the rich lady," though she was
an uneducated one. "Have you never heard of the notorious ---- ----?"
and he told me her name, of which of course I had heard. "I am so sorry
you have told me this," I replied; "she has engaged me for another day."
"Well," he said, "I am her dentist; and she was in my chair a good part
of yesterday. Her fee is as good as anybody's; your advertisements open
the door to all investigators, and you have no right to refuse her so
long as she behaves herself." "She has certainly acted like a lady thus
far with me," I could not but answer.
Between then and her next engagement with me (which was her fourth visit
to my house), the lace woman had played her fraudulent cards upon her.
She had palmed off upon her a fraudulent trance and Spiritualism, and
had prepared her for the coming of a handsome young French officer, with
et cetera, et cetera of a story. The upshot was that this young man was
the lace woman's son, and an adventurer of whom the rich lady was made a
prey. He pretended honorable love and marriage, at which a sinful but
repentant soul clutched readily. She married him, and paid me a farewell
visit on her departure.
She said, "You little know the good you have done to me;" and she threw
on my neck a gold chain and handsome cross. She kissed my hand and left
it wet with tears. "Oh, it won't hurt you," she said, "if I kiss your
hand, though I am much worse than you think me--or at least have been."
My good friend, Professor Mapes, was present at this, and public repute
had made him know all about her. After she had gone he said to me, "You
have done that poor woman more good than all the preachers of New York
could ever have done. You have reformed one of the vilest of women."
I afterward heard that her handsome adventurer-husband spent or got away
from her all her money, and absconded, abandoning her; and that she died
destitute and forlorn in a hospital in Paris. I could tell more tales
than this of women who have passed through my hands, or rather those of
the Spirits, between whom and them I have humbly served as a medium.
I have thus far carried my narrative down to the time at which my public
mediumship closed with my marriage in 1858. Of the five years spent
in New York, I have spoken only in the general manner of the present
chapter, though were I to enter upon the field of particulars I should
have to weary the reader's patience with a second volume. I will only
relate two episodes of that interesting period: the phosphorus affair,
and the affair of the Harvard professors, for reasons which will be
apparent. But I must give them each a chapter to itself.