The spirit-rapper; an autobiography
afterwards they began to be startled by strange, mysterious knockings,
which they could not account for, and which greatly annoyed them. It is
not by any means my intention to follow these girls, in their course
since, with whom I have had very little direct communication; but I owe
it to them and to the public to say, that they were simple-minded,
honest girls, utterly incapable of inventing any thing like these
knockings, or of playing any trick upon the public. The knockings were
and are as much a mystery for them as for others, and they honestly
believe that through them actual communication is held with the spirits
of the departed. They are in good faith, as they some time since evinced
by their wish to become members of the Catholic Church, which certainly
they would not have wished, in this country at least, if they looked
upon themselves as impostors, and had only worldly and selfish ends in
view. They are no doubt deceived, not as to the facts, as to the
phenomena of spirit-rappings, but as to the explanation they give or
attempt to give of them. They have not always been treated, I fear, with
due tenderness, and sufficient pains has not been taken to enlighten
them as to the real nature of these phenomena.
But who need be surprised at this? Received science rejects every thing
of the sort, for it recognizes no invisible world, believes in neither
angel nor spirit, and explains every thing on natural principles. Even
theologians have to a great extent forgotten the terrible influence, in
times past, of demonic agencies, and, if they do not absolutely reject
the instances recorded in the Bible, they are disposed to treat all
other cases as humbuggery, knavery, deception, or to class them with
epilepsy, insanity, hallucination, and other diseases to which we are
subject, and to dismiss them, when they cannot be denied, with the
physicians, under the heads of mania, monomania, nymphomania,
demonopathy, &c. I have before me the _Dictionaire Infernal_ of M.
Collin de Plancy, approved by the late Archbishop of Paris,—him who fell
so gloriously on the barricades, June, 1848, whither he had gone as a
minister of charity and peace,—in which, from beginning to end, there is
a studied effort to represent all these dark and mysterious phenomena as
explicable without any resort to superhuman or diabolical agency. The
excellent author seems to write on the supposition that all the world,
the physicians, the clergy, the magistrates, the civil and
ecclesiastical courts during all past times were merely old grannies,
and had no sound doctrine, and no capacity for investigating the truth
of facts obvious to their senses. With his mode of reasoning, and with
far less violence, I can explain away all the miraculous or mysterious
relations in Biblical history. But so strong is the current against
Satanic agency in the production of these phenomena, and such the
prevailing and shortsighted incredulity of our times, that even those
who suspect the true explanation are, for the most part, deterred from
the ridicule which would be showered upon them from avowing it.
It is no wonder that no kind, considerate friend was found to take these
poor Fox girls by the hand, and attempt to rescue them from their
dangerous state. The great mass of those who could have done so, either
paid no attention at all to the mysterious phenomena asserted, or looked
upon the whole matter as mere humbug. It was easier to crack a joke at
the expense of spirit-rappers, than it was to investigate the facts
alleged, or to offer the true and proper explanation. I had foreseen
that it would be so, or at least, had foreseen that they, whose duty it
is to watch over the interests of religion and morals, were unprepared
to meet the phenomena with success; that they would at first deny and
laugh, and then vituperate and denounce, but would hardly understand and
explain till too late, or till immense mischief had been done. Even now
the first stage is hardly passed, and the movement I commenced by a
present of flowers to these simple girls has extended over the whole
Union, invaded Great Britain, penetrated France in all directions,
carried captive all Scandinavia and a large part of Germany, and is
finding its way into the Italian Peninsula. There are some three hundred
circles or clubs in the city of Philadelphia alone, and the
Spiritualists, as they call themselves, count nearly a million of
believers in our own country. Table-turning, necromancy, divination
becomes a religion with some, and an amusement with others. The
infection seizes all classes, ministers of religion, lawyers,
physicians, judges, comedians, rich and poor, learned and unlearned. The
movement has its quarterly, monthly, and weekly journals, some of them
conducted with great ability, and the spirits, through the writing
mediums, have already furnished it a very considerable library,—yet
hardly a serious effort has as yet been made in this country to
comprehend or arrest it. It is making sad havoc with religion, breaking
up churches, taking its victims from all denominations, with stern
impartiality; and yet the great body of those not under its influence
merely deny, laugh, or cry out, “humbug!” “delusion!” Delusion it is. I
know it now, but not in their sense.
The public never suspected me of having had any hand in producing the
Rappo-Mania; and the Fox girls, even to this day, suspect no connection
between the flowers I gave them and the mysterious knockings which they
heard; and nobody has supposed Andrew Jackson Davis, the most
distinguished of the American _mediums_, of having any relations with
me. He does not suspect it himself, yet he has been more than once
magnetized by me, and it has been in obedience to my will that he has
made his revelations. The public have never connected my name with the
movement, and even Priscilla has never known my full share in it. I have
had my instruments, blind instruments, in all civilized countries, with
whom I have worked, and yet but few of them have known me, or seen me.
My readers may indeed be incredulous as to the influence conveyed by
flowers; but I shall satisfy them on that score before completing my
Confessions. While the Fox girls were annoyed by these mysterious
knockings, and were beginning to draw on them the attention of the
curious and the credulous, and while Andrew Jackson Davis, as yet only a
somnambulist, was dictating his wonderful revelations, and learned
doctors were disputing whether he received them from a white or a black
spirit, whether he really saw what he professed to see in his
clairvoyant state, or only reported to the scribe the lesson which some
cunning scamps had previously taught him, and made him commit to memory;
my old friend Mr. Cotton was made to suffer a severe penalty for the
slighting manner in which he had spoken of Priscilla. Contrary to her
usual custom, Priscilla went one Sunday evening to his evening service.
On leaving the meeting-house, she mingled in the crowd, and so contrived
it as to rub against a granddaughter of Mr. Cotton, an interesting child
of some twelve or thirteen years of age, and without anybody observing
it. She then turned a little aside, got into her carriage, which was
waiting, and drove home. The next day, the young girl, Clara
Starkweather, was singularly affected. Every thing she touched seemed to
stick fast to her fingers. All the dresses, cloaks, shawls, in the house
seemed to have an irresistible propensity to fly to her, and arrange
themselves on her back. She went into the kitchen; the poker, shovel,
and tongs, pots, kettles, pails, basins, all set to dancing towards and
around her, and the frying-pan fastened itself on her head as a cap. Her
mother scolded her, and she, poor thing, began to cry, and declared that
she did not do it, but that it was done by a strange woman, very
beautiful, but very wicked, whom she did not know. The family were all
in consternation. Mr. Cotton was called upon to interpose. He concluded
that it was a case of witchcraft, or of diabolical obsession. He
summoned all the inmates of his family to his study. He was a brave man,
and nothing at all loath to come to hand-grip with the devil, for whom,
with his orthodoxy, he fancied himself more than a match. “We must,” he
said, “resist the evil one; we must wrestle in prayer.” With that he
seated himself before his table, on which lay a splendid edition of the
Bible. He opened the book, intending to read a chapter, before making
his prayer. But he had hardly opened it before it was violently closed,
and rising, seemingly of itself, hit him a heavy blow in his face, which
knocked him from his chair, and nearly stunned him, and then rested
itself on the top of Clara’s head. Mr. Cotton soon recovered from the
blow, and stood up, after the manner of his sect, to pray. He had hardly
opened his mouth, before there was heard such a knocking behind the
walls, against the doors, and under the floor, that every word he
attempted to utter was completely drowned. It was impossible to proceed
amid such a thundering din and racket, which threatened to pull the
house down about their ears. Forthwith out marched from the library
shelves a complete edition of Scott’s Family Bible. The several volumes
drew themselves up on the floor, and proceeded, with great skill and
even science, to knock one another down, while various sounds, as of
mockery and laughter, were heard from various quarters. The brave old
man was fain to resume his chair, when lo! he found himself seated on
the heated gridiron. He started up very quick, as may be imagined, but
happily received no serious injury.
For attraction now succeeded repulsion. All the objects near Clara,
instead of being drawn towards her, were repelled, and moved away from
her. Soon one article of her dress after another flew off, and it was
with the utmost difficulty that they could keep enough on her to hide
her nakedness. This lasted an hour it may be, when all was quiet, and
every thing was found restored to its place, and Mr. Cotton himself
began to think that all was some optical illusion, and to think that he
might have been too hasty in concluding that the devil was engaged in
it.
However the annoyances were only suspended, they were not removed.
During the following night all in the house were awakened by tremendous
knockings heard on the walls and under the floor of the apartment where
Clara slept. All rose, and in their night-clothes rushed to her room,
and found her lying on her bed sobbing, and apparently in the greatest
agony. The bedclothes and her own dresses were scattered all about the
room, cut into narrow strips and entirely ruined. The rappings then were
heard in the library. Mr. Cotton took a light, and went into the room,
and was not a little surprised to find it occupied with some half a
dozen figures of men and women fantastically dressed, all seated, and
listening with grave faces to an inaudible discourse from another figure
in Genevan gown and band, standing before the table on which Mr.
Cotton’s great Bible lay open. Mr. Cotton was a little startled at
first, but he summoned up his courage and advanced. He went straight up
to the figure in gown and band, who seemed to have usurped his
functions, and boldly laid his hand upon his shoulder. Immediately his
candle was extinguished, and he received a blow which felled him to the
floor. In a moment he recovered, passed into another room, obtained
another light, and returned. The phantoms were still there, but he now
saw what they were. The seeming minister was a huge folio of theology,
moulded into a human shape by pieces of carpet, a coat and trousers of
his own, and dressed in his own gown and band. The other figures were