THE HEART PLEADS FOR THE SOUL.
The most interesting feature, after all, of Margaret Fox's career, was
perhaps that sad and abortive romance of which Dr. Elisha Kent Kane, the
gallant Arctic explorer, was the hero. This history should be known to the
reader in order that the exact aspect of Spiritualism to her developed
conscience in after years may be understood.
Dr. Kane first saw Maggie Fox in the autumn of 1852, when she was staying
with her mother at a hotel in Philadelphia, being then engaged in
"spiritualistic manifestations." Dr. Kane, whose heart had never before
been touched, at once succumbed to the sweet charm of this erratic child,
and conceived the romantic idea of removing her from the life she then was
leading, educating her and marrying her. The project, when it became
known, awakened the bitter hostility of his friends, and from this
hostility, the unfortunate separation between them which it caused, and
Dr. Kane's untimely death, all of the sorrow that afterwards engulfed her
life and deprived her of the ambition for a nobler career, directly
sprang.
Margaret was but thirteen years old when Dr. Kane first saw her. A
friendly hand[4] has thus traced her portrait:
"Her beauty was of that delicate kind which grows on the heart, rather
than captivates the sense at a glance; she possessed in a high degree that
retiring modesty which shuns rather than seeks admiration. The position in
which she was placed imposed on her unusual reserve and self-control, and
an ordinary observer might not have seen in her aught to make a sudden
impression. But there was more than beauty in the charm about her
discerned by the penetrating eyes of her new acquaintance. The winning
grace of her modest demeanor, and the native refinement apparent in every
look and movement, word and tone, were evidences of a nature enriched with
all the qualities that dignify and adorn womanhood; of a soul far above
her present calling, and those who surrounded her. To appreciate her real
superiority, her age and the circumstances must be considered. She was yet
a little child--untutored, except in the elements of instruction to be
gained in country district schools, when it was discovered that she
possessed a mysterious power,[5] for which no science or theory could
account. This brought her at once into notoriety and gathered around her
those who had a fancy for the supernatural, and who loved to excite the
wonder of strangers. Most little girls would have been spoiled by that
kind of attention. The endurance of it without having her head turned,
argued rare delicacy, simplicity and firmness of character. After
exhibitions given in different cities, to find herself an object of public
attention, and of flattering notice from persons of distinction, would
naturally please the vanity of a beautiful young girl; and it would not be
surprising if a degree of self-conceit were engendered. But Margaret was
not vain, and could not be made self-conceited. If she had any
consciousness of her exquisite loveliness,--if it pleased her to possess
pretty dresses and ornaments--her delight was that of a happy child taking
pleasure in beautiful things, without reference to any effect they might
enable her to produce. Perhaps no young girl ever lived more free from the
least idea of coquetry or conquest. She heeded not the expressions of
admiration that reached her ear so frequently. She had seen enough of the
world at this time to be aware of the advantages of a superior education,
and it was the most ardent wish of her heart to make herself a
well-educated woman."
Margaret showed a disposition to devote herself with great industry to the
acquirement of knowledge. In fact, at her first meeting with Dr. Kane, he
found her conning over a French exercise in an interval of the public
receptions which were given by herself and her mother. Dr. Kane easily
enlisted her thoughts in a better and higher career. The deception which
was required of her already appeared in something of its true light to her
young mind, and she was restless under its abhorrent shackles. Dr. Kane's
interest in her was certainly pure and elevated, and it led him to gloomy
apprehensions of the fate of so fair, yet so misguided, a creature. He
wrote in verse a prophecy that she would "live and die forlorn." There
have been many times when the latter part of this warning seemed most
likely to come true; and that, doubtless, would have been her fate had she
not found in a final renunciation of her past, a solace to her heart for
the lack of that falsely won prosperity which had been hers during but
brief intervals.
Dr. Kane was but an indifferent versifier; but some of the trifles in
rhyme which he addressed to Margaret may well illustrate certain facts
that I shall state at length hereafter. One day, he sent her "Thoughts
that Ought to Be Those of Maggie Fox," the first refrain of which is as
follows:
"Dreary, dreary, dreary,
Passes life away,
Dreary, dreary, dreary,
The day
Glides on, and _weary
Is my hypocrisy_."
At the close of the second stanza were these lines:
"Happy as the hopes
Which filled my trusting heart,
Before I knew a sinful wish
Or learned a _sinful art_."
Again:
"So long this secret have I kept
I can't forswear it now.
It festers in my bosom,
It cankers in my heart,
_Thrice cursed is the slave fast chained
To a deceitful art_!"
And last:
"Then the maiden knelt and prayed:
'Father, my anguish see;
Oh, give me but one trusting hope
Whose heart will shelter me;
One trusting love to share my griefs,
To snatch me from a life forlorn;
That I may never, never, never,
Thus endlessly from night to morn,
Say that _my life is dreary
With its hypocrisy_!'"
Among the first words that Dr. Kane spoke to Margaret were these: "This is
no life for you, my child." As their reciprocal attraction grew stronger,
he bent all of his deep influence over her in one direction, to effect
once and for all her release from the fatal snare of deceit that fate had
cast about her. Only a few weeks later we find him writing her a note from
New York, in which he says:
"Look at the _Herald_ of this morning. There is an account of a suicide
which causes some excitement. Your sister's[6] name is mentioned in the
inquest of the coroner. Oh, how much I wish that you would quit _this life
of dreary sameness and unsuspected deceit_. We live in this world only for
the good and noble. How crushing it must be to occupy with them a position
of ambiguous respect!"
Dr. Kane, a short time afterwards, described Maggie as follows:
"But it is that strange mixture of child and woman, of simplicity and
cunning, of passionate impulse and extreme self-control, that has made you
a curious study. Maggie, you are very pretty, very childlike, very
deceitful, but to me as readable as my grandmother's Bible."
"And again he said: 'When I think of you, dear darling, _wasting your time
and youth and conscience for a few paltry dollars_, and think of the
crowds who come nightly to hear of the wild stories of the frigid North, I
sometimes feel that we are not so far removed after all. My brain and your
body are each the sources of attraction, and I confess that there is not
so much difference.'"
Never for an instant did the manly and robust intellect of Dr. Kane stoop
to the level of even a partial belief in the pretended wonders of
"Spiritualism." The allusions made to it in his letters, when not grave or
indignant, are full of a certain contemptuous playfulness, well calculated
to reprove the conscious deceitfulness practised by the childish Maggie,
while not offending the natural pride which was yet apart of her
imperfectly formed character. When the doctor was in Boston, he wrote to
her sister Katie:
"Well, now for talk. Boston is a funny place, and 'the spirits' have
friends here. You would be surprised if I told you what I have heard. * * *
There are some things that I have seen which I think would pain you.
Maggie would only laugh at them; but with me it gave cause for sadness. I
saw a young man with a fine forehead and expressive face, but a
countenance deeply tinged with melancholy, seize the hand of this
'medium,' whose name--as I never tell other's secrets--I cannot tell you.
He begged her to answer a question which I could not hear. Instantly she
rapped, and his face assumed a positive agony; the rapping continued; his
pain increased; I leaned forward, feeling an utter detestation for the
woman who could inflict such torment; but it was too late. A single rap
came and he fell senseless in a fit. This I saw with my own eyes.
"Now, Katie, although you and Maggie have never gone so far as this, yet
circumstances must occur where you have to lacerate the feelings of other
people. I know that you have a tender heart; but practice in anything
hardens us. You do things now which you would never have dreamed of doing
years ago; and there will come a time when you will be worse than Leah; a
hardened woman, gathering around you _the victims of a delusion_. * * *
The older you grow the more difficult it will be to liberate yourself from
this thing. And can you look forward to a life unblessed by the
affections, unsoothed by the consciousness of doing right! * * * _When
your mother leaves this scene, can you and * * * Maggie be content to live
that life of constant deceit?_"
To Maggie, Dr. Kane wrote from the sincerest depths of his heart,
recalling the first moment when he saw her, "a little Priestess, cunning
in the mysteries of her temple, and weak in everything but the power with
which she played her part. A sentiment almost of pity stole over his
wordly heart as he saw through the disguise."
And again: "Waddy[7] called on me to-day, as did Tallmadge;[8] I was kind
to both for your sake. Waddy talked much about you. He said that he
feared for you, and spoke long and well upon the dangers and temptations
of your present life. I said little to him other than my convictions of
your own and your sister's excellent character and '_pure simplicity_;'
for thus, Mag, I always talk of you. And it pained me to find that others
viewed your life as I did, and regarded you as occupying an ambiguous
position. Depend upon it, Maggie, no right-minded gentleman--whether he be
believer or sceptic--can regard your present life with approval. Let this,
dear sweet, make you think over the offer of the one friend who would
stretch out an arm to save you. Think wisely, dear darling, ere it be too
late. * * *
"Maggie, you cannot tell the sadness that comes over me when I think of
you. What will become of you? you, the one being that I regard even before
myself! * * *
"If you really can make up your mind to abjure the spirits, to study and
improve your mental and moral nature, it may be that a career of
brightness will be open to you; and upon this chance, slender as it is, I
offer, like a true friend, to guard and educate you. But, Mag, clouds, and
darkness rest upon the execution of your good resolves; and I sometimes
doubt whether you have the firmness of mind to carry them through."
The author of "The Love-Life of Dr. Kane," says of this period:
"Dr. Kane was very often in the habit of saying--as if with melancholy
presentiment--'What would become of you if I should die? What would you
do? I shudder at the thought of my death, on your account.'
"In the buoyant confidence of youth, the poor girl could not then
understand his fears. But _he_ knew that in separating her from
Spiritualism he was isolating her from all her friends and associates, and
depriving her of the only means she possessed of earning a livelihood. In
compensation for the sacrifices required of her, he was giving her a hope
only; a hope that might be blissfully realized, but might be sadly
disappointed; and in the event of losing him, what must be her destiny!"
Dr. Kane met with malignant opposition from Leah, Maggie's elder sister,
in his efforts to detach her from the damning career into which she had
been thrown. The "shekels" were then pouring in in great abundance at the
seances, and this explains sufficiently the hostile attitude of the one
person who was chiefly responsible for the ruin of her young life. Thus
the doctor wrote to Maggie in New York:
"Is the old house dreary to you? * * * Oh, Maggie, are you never tired of
_this weary, weary sameness of continual deceit_? Are you thus to spend
your days, doomed never to rise to better things?--you and that dear
little open-minded sister Kate (for she, too, is still unversed in
deception)--are you both to live on thus forever? You will never be happy
if you do; for you are not, like Leah, able to exult and take pleasure in
the simplicity of the poor, simple-hearted fools around you.
"Do, then, Maggie, keep to your last promise. Show this to Katie, and urge
her to keep to her resolution."[9]
By this time, Maggie had pledged herself to her lover to abandon the
"rappings" altogether; but they were both very cautious lest this
resolution should be known to her elder sister. Maggie appears to have
yielded to the influences around her, in spite of her respect and regard
for the doctor, and once or twice to have lapsed back into the ways that
he dreaded and abhorred. We find him then, writing from New York to
Washington:
"Don't rap for Mrs. Pierce.[10] Remember your promise to me. * * *
"Begin again, dearest Maggie, and keep your word. No 'rapping' for Mrs.
Pierce or ever more for any one. I, dear Mag, am your best, your truest,
your only friend. What are they to my wishes? Oh, regard and love me, and
listen to my words; and be very careful lest in an idle hour you lose my
regard and your own respect."
And later:
"All last night did this good friend of yours think about you and your
probable future.
"I can see that this is one of the turning points of your life, and upon
your own energy and decision now depend the success and happiness of your
future career. Dear Maggie, think it over well and _do not be turned aside
from what is right_ by the sincere but still misguided advice of others.
* * * But remember, Maggie, that all this will not last. * * * What will
it be when, looking back upon * * * misspent and dreary years, you feel
that there have been no acts really acceptable to your Maker, and that for
the years ahead, all will be sorrow, sameness and disgust! * * *
"Why, you know that sometimes, even now, when Leah is cross, or the
company coarse and vulgar, or the day tiresome, or yourself out of sorts,
that low spirits and disgust come over you and you long like a bird to
spread your wings and fly away from it all."
Very soon afterwards, Dr. Kane wrote:
"At present, you have nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope for.
Your life is one constant round of idle excitement. Can your mother, who
is an excellent woman, look upon you, a girl of thirteen, as doomed all
your life to live surrounded by such as now surround you, _deprived of all
the blessings of home and love and even self-respect_?"
Dr. Kane, looking upon Margaret as his future wife, was exceedingly
anxious that the true explanation of the "rappings," the fact that they
were entirely fraudulent, should never be discovered. He hoped that
Spiritualism would have but an ephemeral existence, and that when once it
had died out, the public would so far forget the persons who originated
it, that it would cease to associate with them the woman who would then
bear his name. So he wrote in this vein to Maggie:
"You know I am nervous about the 'rappings.' I believe the only thing I
ever was afraid of was this confounded thing being found out. I would not
know it myself for ten thousand dollars."
How both Margaret and Dr. Kane regarded the elder sister may be judged
from this sentence, written by the latter at this time: "Be careful not to
mention me before the Tigress."
At last the object dearest to Dr. Kane's heart seemed to be drawing near
to its accomplishment. He says: "Your kind promise 'solemnly never to rap
again' so pleases me, that I cannot help thanking you. Adhere to that, and
you will be a dear, good, happy girl." * * *
Maggie went to school at Crookville, near Chester, Pennsylvania, and was
in charge of Dr. Kane's aunt, Mrs. Leiper, who resided near the house
where Maggie lodged. Just prior to this, Dr. Kane wrote as follows:
"_Never do wrong any more; for if now 'the spirits move' it will be a
breach of faith._ From this moment, our compact begins."
After Dr. Kane had reached the Arctic seas, I find this passage at the end
of a long letter, full of solicitude and noble counsel about the education
of his future wife: "One final wish--the only thing like restraint that
your true friend can find it in his heart to utter: See little of Leah,
and never sleep within her house."
For a short time, on his return from his second Arctic voyage, Dr. Kane
allowed himself to be swayed by interest and the vehement efforts of his
relatives, so far as to require from Margaret a written declaration that
they had never been engaged, and that she had no claim whatever upon his
hand in matrimony. There was a quick reaction, however, and the old
relations were renewed. One who wrote of these facts said: "Amid all his
sorrow, one fear seemed to harass him perpetually--that Miss Fox might be
induced to return to the professional life she had abandoned years ago for
his sake. She was surrounded by spiritualists." * * *
In his letters to her, Dr. Kane still harped upon the one anxiety that
continually possessed him. He says: "_Do avoid 'spirits.' I cannot bear to
think of you as engaged in a course of wickedness and deception._ * * *
Pardon my saying so; but is it not deceit even to listen when others are
deceived? * * * In childhood it was a mere indiscretion; but what will it
be when hard age wears its wrinkles into you, and like Leah you grow old!
Dear Maggie, I could cry to think of it. * * * A time will come when you
will see the real ghost of memory--an awful specter!"
And again he wrote: "_Maggie, I have but one thought_, how to make you
happier; _how to withdraw you from deception; from a course of sin and
future punishment, the dark shadow of which hung over you like the wing of
a vampire_."
Then, as he claimed her more and more openly as his own, "he would not
permit her," says the writer already quoted, "even to witness any
spiritual manifestations, nor to remain in the room when the subject was
discussed. * * * 'You never shall be brought in contact with such things
again,' he would say."
The ending of this very sad tale of love, which throws a peculiar light
athwart the colder theme of this volume, was bitterly tragic. A secret
marriage under the common law was entered into, and Dr. Kane, whose health
was shattered never to be mended, went first to Europe and then to Cuba to
die. Margaret and her mother were to join him at Havana, but ere their
departure from New York he was already a corpse.
And so, a noble and generous, if sometimes faltering heart, ceased to
beat, and a gentle creature, who at last had learned to love as much as
she had honored him, was on the shores of that deep sea of infamy against
which, had he only lived, he would surely have shielded her.