CHAPTER XIX.

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.