MY FIRST SEANCE.
I had returned from India and spent several years in England before the
subject of Modern Spiritualism was brought under my immediate notice.
Cursorily I had heard it mentioned by some people as a dreadfully wicked
thing, diabolical to the last degree, by others as a most amusing
pastime for evening parties, or when one wanted to get some "fun out of
the table." But neither description charmed me, nor tempted me to pursue
the occupation. I had already lost too many friends. Spiritualism (so it
seemed to me) must either be humbug or a very solemn thing, and I
neither wished to trifle with it or to be trifled with by it. And after
twenty years' continued experience I hold the same opinion. I have
proved Spiritualism _not_ to be humbug, therefore I regard it in a
sacred light. For, _from whatever cause_ it may proceed, it opens a vast
area for thought to any speculative mind, and it is a matter of constant
surprise to me to see the indifference with which the world regards it.
That it _exists_ is an undeniable fact. Men of science have acknowledged
it, and the churches cannot deny it. The only question appears to be,
"_What_ is it, and _whence_ does the power proceed?" If (as many clever
people assert) from ourselves, then must these bodies and minds of ours
possess faculties hitherto undreamed of, and which we have allowed to
lie culpably fallow. If our bodies contain magnetic forces sufficient to
raise substantial and apparently living forms from the bare earth, which
our eyes are clairvoyant enough to see, and which can articulate words
which our ears are clairaudient enough to hear--if, in addition to this,
our minds can read each other's inmost thoughts, can see what is passing
at a distance, and foretell what will happen in the future, then are our
human powers greater than we have ever imagined, and we ought to do a
great deal more with them than we do. And even regarding Spiritualism
from _that_ point of view, I cannot understand the lack of interest
displayed in the discovery, to turn these marvellous powers of the human
mind to greater account.
To discuss it, however, from the usual meaning given to the word,
namely, as a means of communication with the departed, leaves me as
puzzled as before. All Christians acknowledge they have spirits
independent of their bodies, and that when their bodies die, their
spirits will continue to live on. Wherein, then, lies the terror of the
idea that these liberated spirits will have the privilege of roaming the
universe as they will? And if they argue the _impossibility_ of their
return, they deny the records which form the only basis of their
religion. No greater proof can be brought forward of the truth of
Spiritualism than the truth of the Bible, which teems and bristles with
accounts of it from beginning to end. From the period when the Lord God
walked with Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, and the angels came to
Abram's tent, and pulled Lot out of the doomed city; when the witch of
Endor raised up Samuel, and Balaam's ass spoke, and Ezekiel wrote that
the hair of his head stood up because "a spirit" passed before him, to
the presence of Satan with Jesus in the desert, and the reappearance of
Moses and Elias, the resurrection of Christ Himself, and His talking and
eating with His disciples, and the final account of John being caught up
to Heaven to receive the Revelations--_all is Spiritualism, and nothing
else_. The Protestant Church that pins its faith upon the Bible, and
nothing but the Bible, cannot deny that the spirits of mortal men have
reappeared and been recognized upon this earth, as when the graves
opened at the time of the Christ's crucifixion, and "many bodies of
those that were dead arose and went into the city, and were seen of
many." The Catholic Church does not attempt to deny it. All her legends
and miracles (which are disbelieved and ridiculed by the Protestants
aforesaid) are founded on the same truth--the miraculous or supernatural
return (as it is styled) of those who are gone, though I hope to make my
readers believe, as I do, that there is nothing miraculous in it, and
far from being _super_natural it is only a continuation of Nature.
Putting the churches and the Bible, however, on one side, the History of
Nations proves it to be possible. There is not a people on the face of
the globe that has not its (so-called) superstitions, nor a family
hardly, which has not experienced some proofs of spiritual communion
with earth. Where learning and science have thrust all belief out of
sight, it is only natural that the man who does not believe in a God nor
a Hereafter should not credit the existence of spirits, nor the
possibility of communicating with them. But the lower we go in the scale
of society, the more simple and childlike the mind, the more readily
does such a faith gain credence, and the more stories you will hear to
justify belief. It is just the same with religion, which is hid from the
wise and prudent, and revealed to babes.
If I am met here with the objection that the term "Spiritualism" has
been at times mixed up with so much that is evil as to become an
offence, I have no better answer to make than by turning to the
irrefragable testimony of the Past and Present to prove that in all
ages, and of all religions, there have been corrupt and demoralized
exponents whose vices have threatened to pull down the fabric they lived
to raise. Christianity itself would have been overthrown before now, had
we been unable to separate its doctrine from its practice.
I held these views in the month of February, 1873, when I made one of a
party of friends assembled at the house of Miss Elizabeth Philip, in
Gloucester Crescent, and was introduced to Mr. Henry Dunphy of the
_Morning Post_, both of them since gone to join the great majority. Mr.
Dunphy soon got astride of his favorite hobby of Spiritualism, and gave
me an interesting account of some of the _seances_ he had attended. I
had heard so many clever men and women discuss the subject before, that
I had begun to believe on their authority that there must be "something
in it," but I held the opinion that sittings in the dark must afford so
much liberty for deception, that I would engage in none where I was not
permitted the use of my eyesight.
I expressed myself somewhat after this fashion to Mr. Dunphy. He
replied, "Then the time has arrived for you to investigate Spiritualism,
for I can introduce you to a medium who will show you the faces of the
dead." This proposal exactly met my wishes, and I gladly accepted it.
Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip,) the novelist, who is an intimate
friend of mine, was staying with me at the time and became as eager as I
was to investigate the phenomena. We took the address Mr. Dunphy gave us
of Mrs. Holmes, the American medium, then visiting London, and lodging
in Old Quebec Street, Portman Square, but we refused his introduction,
preferring to go _incognito_. Accordingly, the next evening, when she
held a public _seance_, we presented ourselves at Mrs. Holmes' door; and
having first removed our wedding-rings, and tried to look as virginal as
possible, sent up our names as Miss Taylor and Miss Turner. I am
perfectly aware that this medium was said afterwards to be
untrustworthy. So may a servant who was perfectly honest, whilst in my
service, leave me for a situation where she is detected in theft. That
does not alter the fact that she stole nothing from me. I do not think I
know _a single medium_ of whom I have not (at some time or other) heard
the same thing, and I do not think I know a single woman whom I have not
also, at some time or other, heard scandalized by her own sex, however
pure and chaste she may imagine the world holds her. The question
affects me in neither case. I value my acquaintances for what they are
_to me_, not for what they may be to others; and I have placed trust in
my media from what I individually have seen and heard, and proved to be
genuine in their presence, and not from what others may imagine they
have found out about them. It is no detriment to my witness that the
media I sat with cheated somebody else, either before or after. My
business was only to take care that _I_ was not cheated, and I have
never, in Spiritualism, accepted anything at the hands of others that I
could not prove for myself.
Mrs. Holmes did not receive us very graciously on the present occasion.
We were strangers to her--probably sceptics, and she eyed us rather
coldly. It was a bitter night, and the snow lay so thick upon the ground
that we had some difficulty in procuring a hansom to take us from
Bayswater to Old Quebec Street. No other visitors arrived, and after a
little while Mrs. Holmes offered to return our money (ten shillings), as
she said if she did sit with us, there would probably be no
manifestations on account of the inclemency of the weather. (Often since
then I have proved her assertion to be true, and found that any extreme
of heat or cold is liable to make a _seance_ a dead failure).
But Annie Thomas had to return to her home in Torquay on the following
day, and so we begged the medium to try at least to show us something,
as we were very curious on the subject. I am not quite sure what I
expected or hoped for on this occasion. I was full of curiosity and
anticipation, but I am sure that I never thought I should see any face
which I could recognize as having been on earth. We waited till nine
o'clock in hopes that a circle would be formed, but as no one else came,
Mrs. Holmes consented to sit with us alone, warning us, however, several
times to prepare for a disappointment. The lights were therefore
extinguished, and we sat for the usual preliminary dark _seance_, which
was good, perhaps, but has nothing to do with a narrative of facts,
proved to be so. When it concluded, the gas was re-lit and we sat for
"Spirit Faces."
There were two small rooms connected by folding doors. Annie Thomas and
I, were asked to go into the back room--to lock the door communicating
with the landings, and secure it with our own seal, stamped upon a piece
of tape stretched across the opening--to examine the window and bar the
shutter inside--to search the room thoroughly, in fact, to see that no
one was concealed in it--and we did all this as a matter of business.
When we had satisfied ourselves that no one could enter from the back,
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, Annie Thomas, and I were seated on four chairs in
the front room, arranged in a row before the folding doors, which were
opened, and a square of black calico fastened across the aperture from
one wall to the other. In this piece of calico was cut a square hole
about the size of an ordinary window, at which we were told the spirit
faces (if any) would appear. There was no singing, nor noise of any sort
made to drown the sounds of preparation, and we could have heard even a
rustle in the next room. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes talked to us of their
various experiences, until, we were almost tired of waiting, when
something white and indistinct like a cloud of tobacco smoke, or a
bundle of gossamer, appeared and disappeared again.
"They are coming! I _am_ glad!" said Mrs. Holmes. "I didn't think we
should get anything to-night,"--and my friend and I were immediately on
the tiptoe of expectation. The white mass advanced and retreated several
times, and finally settled before the aperture and opened in the
middle, when a female face was distinctly to be seen above the black
calico. What was our amazement to recognize the features of Mrs. Thomas,
Annie Thomas' mother. Here I should tell my readers that Annie's father,
who was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy and captain of the coastguard at
Morston in Norfolk, had been a near neighbor and great friend of my
father, Captain Marryat, and their children had associated like brothers
and sisters. I had therefore known Mrs. Thomas well, and recognized her
at once, as, of course, did her daughter. The witness of two people is
considered sufficient in law. It ought to be accepted by society. Poor
Annie was very much affected, and talked to her mother in the most
incoherent manner. The spirit did not appear able to answer in words,
but she bowed her head or shook it, according as she wished to say "yes"
or "no." I could not help feeling awed at the appearance of the dear old
lady, but the only thing that puzzled me was the cap she wore, which was
made of white net, quilled closely round her face, and unlike any I had
ever seen her wear in life. I whispered this to Annie, and she replied
at once, "It is the cap she was buried in," which settled the question.
Mrs. Thomas had possessed a very pleasant but very uncommon looking
face, with bright black eyes, and a complexion of pink and white like
that of a child. It was some time before Annie could be persuaded to let
her mother go, but the next face that presented itself astonished her
quite as much, for she recognized it as that of Captain Gordon, a
gentleman whom she had known intimately and for a length of time. I had
never seen Captain Gordon in the flesh, but I had heard of him, and knew
he had died from a sudden accident. All I saw was the head of a
good-looking, fair, young man, and not feeling any personal interest in
his appearance, I occupied the time during which my friend conversed
with him about olden days, by minutely examining the working of the
muscles of his throat, which undeniably stretched when his head moved.
As I was doing so, he leaned forward, and I saw a dark stain, which
looked like a clot of blood, on his fair hair, on the left side of the
forehead.
"Annie! what did Captain Gordon die of?" I asked. "He fell from a
railway carriage," she replied, "and struck his head upon the line." I
then pointed out to her the blood upon his hair. Several other faces
appeared, which we could not recognize. At last came one of a gentleman,
apparently moulded like a bust in plaster of Paris. He had a kind of
smoking cap upon the head, curly hair, and a beard, but from being
perfectly colorless, he looked so unlike nature, that I could not trace
a resemblance to any friend of mine, though he kept on bowing in my
direction, to indicate that I knew, or had known him. I examined this
face again and again in vain. Nothing in it struck me as familiar, until
the mouth broke into a grave, amused smile at my perplexity. In a moment
I recognized it as that of my dear old friend, John Powles, whose
history I shall relate _in extenso_ further on. I exclaimed "Powles,"
and sprang towards it, but with my hasty action the figure disappeared.
I was terribly vexed at my imprudence, for this was the friend of all
others I desired to see, and sat there, hoping and praying the spirit
would return, but it did not. Annie Thomas' mother and friend both came
back several times; indeed, Annie recalled Captain Gordon so often, that
on his last appearance the power was so exhausted, his face looked like
a faded sketch in water-colors, but "Powles" had vanished altogether.
The last face we saw that night was that of a little girl, and only her
eyes and nose were visible, the rest of her head and face being
enveloped in some white flimsy material like muslin. Mrs. Holmes asked
her for whom she came, and she intimated that it was for me. I said she
must be mistaken, and that I had known no one in life like her. The
medium questioned her very closely, and tried to put her "out of court,"
as it were. Still, the child persisted that she came for me. Mrs. Holmes
said to me, "Cannot you remember _anyone_ of that age connected with you
in the spirit world? No cousin, nor niece, nor sister, nor the child of
a friend?" I tried to remember, but I could not, and answered, "No! no
child of that age." She then addressed the little spirit. "You have made
a mistake. There is no one here who knows you. You had better move on."
So the child did move on, but very slowly and reluctantly. I could read
her disappointment in her eyes, and after she had disappeared, she
peeped round the corner again and looked at me, longingly. This was
"Florence," my dear _lost_ child (as I then called her), who had left me
as a little infant of ten days old, and whom I could not at first
recognize as a young girl of ten years. Her identity, however, has been
proved to me since, beyond all doubt, as will be seen in the chapter
which relates my reunion with her, and is headed "My Spirit Child." Thus
ended the first _seance_ at which I ever assisted, and it made a
powerful impression upon my mind. Mrs. Holmes, in bidding us good-night,
said, "You two ladies must be very powerful mediums. I never held so
successful a _seance_ with strangers in my life before." This news
elated us--we were eager to pursue our investigations, and were
enchanted to think we could have _seances_ at home, and as soon as Annie
Thomas took up her residence in London, we agreed to hold regular
meetings for the purpose. This was the _seance_ that made me a student
of the psychological phenomena, which the men of the nineteenth century
term Spiritualism. Had it turned out a failure, I might now have been as
most men are. _Quien sabe?_ As it was, it incited me to go on and on,
until I have seen and heard things which at that moment would have
seemed utterly impossible to me. And I would not have missed the
experience I have passed through for all the good this world could offer
me.