A SPIRITUAL PICNIC.
In a volume bearing the title of _Mystic London_ it would seem perchance
that Spiritualism, as par excellence the modern mystery, should stand
first. I have thought it better, however, to defer its treatment
somewhat, working up to it as to a climax, and then gently descending to
mundane matters once more ere I close my present work.
Of London at this hour, just as of Rome in the later Republic and
Empire, it may be safely affirmed that there is in its midst an element
of the mysterious and occult utterly undreamed of by the practical
people. Many phases of this element have already been treated of in my
different works; and I add some of the more exceptional as properly
belonging to my present subject.
Now I candidly confess that, up to a recent date, I had not given
Spiritualists--quâ spiritualists--credit for being a cheerful or
convivial people. Though there exist upon the tablets of my memory
recollections of certain enjoyable dinners, cosy teas, and charming
petits soupers, eaten at the mahogany of believers in the modern
mystery, yet these were purely exceptional events, oases in the desert
of spiritualistic experiences. Generally speaking, the table, instead of
groaning under its accumulated bounties, leapt about as if from the
absence thereof; and the only adjuncts of the inhospitable mahogany were
paper tubes for the spirit voices, handbells for the spirit hands, and
occasional accordions and musical boxes for the delectation of
harmonious ghosts. It was a "flow of soul" if not always a "feast of
reason;" but, as regarded creature comforts, or any of the ordinary
delights of mundane existence, a very Siberian desert. A grave subject
of discussion (I am not, I assure you, indulging in a sepulchral pun) at
the recent Liverpool Conference was how to feed mediums, and I fancy the
preponderating opinion was that fasting was a cardinal virtue in their
case--a regimen that had come to be in my mind, perhaps unfairly,
associated with séances in general. I was glad, therefore, when I read
in the columns of the _Medium_ the announcement of the spiritual picnic
or "demonstration," at the People's Garden, Willesden. Still I wanted to
see Spiritualists enjoy themselves in the "normal condition." I
sympathized with the avowed object of the gathering, that the followers
of the new creed should know one another, as surely the disciples of a
common school ought to do. Armed, therefore, with a ticket, I proceeded,
viâ the North London Railway, to the scene of action. It was not what we
materialistic people should call a fine August day. It was cold and
dull, and tried hard to rain; but it was far more in keeping with the
character of the meeting than what Father Newman calls the "garish day"
one looks for in mid-August. In the words of the circle the "conditions
were excellent;" and as I journeyed on, reading my _Medium_ like a true
believer, I marvelled to see, by the evidence of its advertisements, how
the new creed had taken hold of a certain section, at all events, of
society. Besides a dozen public mediums who paraded their varied
attractions at terms ranging from _2s. 6d._ to _21s._, there were
spiritualistic young men who put forward their creed as a qualification
for clerkships--perhaps they had no other claim--spiritual lodging-house
keepers, and even spiritual undertakers, all pervaded by what we may
literally call a common esprit de corps.
In due course we reached the People's Garden, the popular title whereof
seemed to have been given on the lucus a non principle, for the London
folk have not, as yet, affected it largely. Why this should be so one
cannot guess, for it is the very ideal of a Cockney Paradise, and is
admirably worked by a body of shareholders, most of whom belong to the
artisan class, though under very distinguished patronage indeed. When I
got to the grounds the Spiritualists were indulging in a merry-go-round
during a refreshing drizzle. A temporary rush under cover ensued, and
then the weather became more favourable, though the skies preserved
their neutral tint. Mrs. Bullock, a suburban medium, who had become
entranced, had located herself in a bower, and beckoned people from the
audience to receive her "benediction," which was given in a remarkable
dialect. I thought it was Yorkshire, but a spiritualistic gentleman
explained to me that it was "partly North American Indian." The Osborne
Bellringers next gave a campanological concert, which was exceedingly
good of its kind, the small gentleman who played the bass bell working
so actively as to suggest the idea that he could not long survive such
hard labour in his fleshly condition. These campanologists are said to
be big mediums, and occasionally to be floated or otherwise spirited
during their performances; but nothing abnormal occurred at the People's
Garden. Then there was dancing on the monster platform, which is, I
should think, correctly described as "the largest in the world." This
was indeed a new phase of Spiritualism: the terpsichorean spiritualists
generally let their tables do the dancing for them, as Eastern
potentates hire their dancing-girls. Donkey-races, croquet, and other
unspiritual diversions varied the order of proceedings; and as for the
one-and-ninepenny teas, I can only say I should think the Garden
Committee did not get much profit out of them, for the Spiritualists
regaled themselves in the most material fashion. During the afternoon
the arrivals were fast and frequent. All the medium-power of London
seemed present; and the only wonder was that we were not all floated
bodily away. There was Mrs. Guppy, who, in answer to my demand whether
she had been "floated" from Highbury, informed me that she had come far
less romantically--"nine in a cab!" There was Dr. Monk, too, a
Nonconformist clergyman, who had lately been taking aërial journeys of
the Guppy order about Bristol. In fact, the élite of the sect were well
represented; and during the whole afternoon, despite the dirty-looking
day, the fun was fast and furious, and all went merry as the proverbial
marriage-bell.
Part of the programme was an entertainment by a gentleman bearing the
delightfully sepulchral name of Dr. Sexton, whose mission in life it is
to "expose" the tricks of Dr. Lynn and Messrs. Maskelyne and Cooke. How
those gentlemen are to be "exposed," seeing they only claim to deceive
you by legerdemain, I cannot comprehend; but they made the Spiritualists
very angry by taking their names in vain on the handbills of the
Egyptian Hall, and more than insinuating that there was a family
likeness between their performances; and, consequently, the conjurors
were to be "exposed;" that is, the public were to have their visit to
the Temple of Magic spoilt by being shown beforehand how the tricks were
done. Aided by an expert assistant named Organ, Dr. Sexton soon let us
into the mysteries of the cabinet business, which seemed just as easy as
making the egg stand on end--when you know how. It is perfectly true
that, after hearing Dr. Sexton's exposition--rather than exposé--it is
quite easy for any one to frustrate the designs of these clever
conjurors, if he wishes to do so. I am not sure that the exposé is wise.
Illogical people will not see the force of Dr. Sexton's argument, and
will possibly think it "proves too much." If so much can be done by
sleight of hand and ingenious machinery, they will argue, perhaps, that
the Davenports and other mediums are only cleverer conjurors still, or
have better machinery. Alas! all my fairyland is pasteboard now. I know
how the man gets out of the corded box--I could do it myself. I know
where the gorilla goes when he seems lost in the magic cabinet. It is
all a clever combination of mirrors. The blood-red letters of some dear
departed friend are only made with red ink and a quill pen, and the name
of the "dear departed" forged. Well, I suppose _I_ am illogical, too. If
one set of things is so simple when it is shown to you, why may not all
be? I fear the Willesden outing has unsettled my convictions, and shaken
my faith in most sublunary things.
The gathering clearly proved the growth of Spiritualism in London. That
such numbers could be got together in the dead season bespeaks a very
extensive ramification indeed.