The spirit-rapper; an autobiography
twelve years old. I found him completely under my control, and perfectly
docile to all my intentions. His behavior was admirable. I asked him
mentally a large number of questions which it was certain that in his
normal state he could not answer, and which he answered explicitly, with
surprising accuracy. He had never been taught music, and in his normal
state could not distinguish even one tune from another. I willed him to
seat himself at the piano, and play for us a favorite waltz of Mozart.
He obeyed, and performed it with accuracy, with spirit, a delicacy of
touch, and brilliancy of effect, which none of us had ever heard
equalled, or even approached. I then mentally ordered him to sing us, to
his own accompaniment, one or two songs from Fra Diavolo, which were
then in fashion. He obeyed. We were all surprised, and began talking
among ourselves of the apparent miracle, when, to our still greater
astonishment, he commenced playing of his own accord a strange piece,
which none of us knew or had ever heard, and which, for its wild and
unearthly character, for its brilliancy, depth, and pathos, surpassed
all that we had ever conceived of music. We were all entranced. Here was
some agency not the boy’s, not mine, not that of any one present. Such
strains had never had mortal composer.
“I knew not what to think, and so contrived not to think at all, but
enjoyed the music, and looked no farther. _Carpe diem_, you know, was my
philosophy. I saw I had a brilliant subject, and I resolved to make the
most of him. I had heard of the marvellous powers of clairvoyance and
second sight exhibited by some somnambulists. I blindfolded the boy, and
gave him a letter. He read it with ease. I placed another at the back of
his neck, he read that also; I placed another, folded up, on the back of
his head. He told me who was the writer, described his appearance, his
complexion, size, and character, with more accuracy than I could have
done, although the writer was well known to me, and must have been a
total stranger to the boy. I took the boy with me on a journey, that is,
mentally. We stopped at Providence, went on to Stonington, took the
steamer for New York, landed and went up Broadway, down the Bowery, and
through several other streets. He named the hotels, churches, and other
public buildings we passed, and read the signs over the shop doors. We
went up the Hudson, to Albany, from there on to Utica, Rochester,
Niagara Falls, and then returned, and on our way back stopped at your
house in Genesee county, with which you know I am familiar. We went into
the library, and the laboratory, in each of which he named and
accurately described the principal objects. Having come back, we took an
excursion into the other world, of which he told us strange things,
which none of us believed, for we were all Unitarians, Universalists, or
unbelievers, and his revelations seemed to favor what is called
Orthodoxy.
“My betrothed was present at all these experiments. She was greatly
excited. Time and again she wished that I would mesmerize her. She
wished this much more after she had heard the boy describe what he saw
in the other world. I know not why, but I shrunk from complying with her
wish. I saw no harm in others being mesmerized, and I had, without any
scruple, mesmerized young ladies by the dozen; but some how or other I
could not bear to have my Isabel mesmerized, or even to mesmerize her
myself. I instinctively felt that there would be something indelicate in
it, something hardly modest, and that it would be a sort of desecration.
She was modest, retiring, even timid, but her curiosity was excited, and
she would brook no denial.
“A true daughter of Eve. Women are timid creatures, but will brave Satan
himself to gratify their curiosity, or their passions.”
“That now is malicious.”
“Never mind; go on.”
“I was at length obliged to consent, but only to magnetize her at her
father’s house, and at first only in presence of her mother or her
sister. She yielded very readily to the mesmeric influence, and became a
remarkable clairvoyant. She had, when in the magnetic slumber, not only
a clear view of remote terrestrial things, of which she had no previous
knowledge, and which were equally unknown to me, but also of heaven and
hell, and revealed to me strange things of angels and spirits, of the
state of departed souls, good and bad, and of their intercourse with the
living. We both became deeply interested, and took every opportunity to
make our investigations. We were left much alone, and she remained in
the mesmeric state from one to two hours almost every day or evening. If
I was unable to visit her, she would, though I knew it not, invite some
female friend to mesmerize her, for gradually she seemed to wish to live
only in the mesmeric state, and appeared restless and uneasy when out of
it. Her physical system began to suffer. She complained, when awake, of
a universal lassitude. The bloom faded from her cheek, her eye assumed a
wild, lustreless glare, and her motions were heavy and languid. She was
listless, absent, forgetful, taking little or no interest in anybody or
any thing. I beheld her, as you may well believe, with great anxiety and
alarm.
“One evening, about two months ago, I visited her. I found her alone,
and in a few minutes threw her into the mesmeric sleep, for it was only
in that state that her mind retained its strength and brilliancy. She
was attacked with convulsions and spasms as I had never seen her before.
I hastened to awake her. It was too late! I had killed her; and that
countenance which had been so dear to me, which had so often beamed on
me with the sweet smile of love, now bore only the expression of fear,
horror, rage, and anguish. It was the face of a demon. It froze my blood
to behold it.
“I had my own grief to bear, I had to endure the tortures of my own
remorse and utter despair, and to face the grief, silent, but deep, of
her father, and the rage of her mother, who cursed me, cursed me as only
a mother in the violence of her wrath and grief can curse. How I lived
through that dreadful night I know not. The relations agreed to conceal
the circumstances of Isabel’s death. I followed her to the tomb, and
returned to my own home, blasted, withered, worse than dead.
“All this was bad enough, but worse followed. The day after the funeral,
while sitting alone in my office, I saw, at a few feet from me, partly
behind me, a grayish appearance, without any sharply defined outline. I
looked at it for a moment, and it assumed then the well-known form of
her I the day before followed to the grave, and, horror of horrors, with
that fearful expression of face with which she had died. It came nearer
to me, I receded; it followed, I rushed into the street; it pursued, I
turned aside my face, it turned as I turned, so as to be always within
my view. From that day to this has it haunted me; I have scarcely a
moment’s respite. Day or night, light or dark, with my eyes opened or
closed, always does it stand before me, and glare on me with that
terrible look. I cannot sleep; I cannot eat; I have no rest. The only
few moments of quiet I have had are those since I have been with you in
this room. I do not see it now. O, it was a sad day for me when I chose
Animal Magnetism for a plaything!”
I was much affected by Jack’s sufferings. I was not surprised at the
fatal effects of mesmerism on the young lady; for death, I had been
assured, is no unfrequent result of what the physicians who practise it
call its injudicious use. The form which haunted him gave me no
uneasiness, as it was, in my opinion, clearly a case of hallucination, a
species of monomania, well known to the physicians of our lunatic
hospitals, and our writers on mania or insanity. The shock my young
friend had received had probably produced some slight lesion of the
brain, and the imagination gave shape to the deceptive appearance, as in
dreams we see often reproduced, following us, preceding us, or dancing
around us, the shapes and images which had deeply impressed us when
awake. But I was fond of poor Jack, and my great anxiety was to console
him, and to prevent what might be only a temporary hallucination from
becoming a confirmed insanity. Finding him better when with me, I
persuaded him, with the consent of his family, who understood very
little of his case, and feared for his reason, to accompany me to my
home in Western New York, and to place himself under my care.
He remained very much depressed for several months, but gradually his
appetite returned; he was able to get some sleep, and his health began
to improve. The vision did not entirely leave him, especially when
alone, or not with me, but its visits became less and less frequent, and
less and less appalling. The expression of the face gradually became
less horrible, and more human, but still indicated great suffering and
profound grief. In the course of a year, however, he seemed to have
recovered, and returned to Boston. But in proportion as he seemed to be
regaining his health and peace of mind, as far as peace of mind he could
hope to have, a very singular change began to come over me.
I had spent my time, since leaving college, in literary ease and
scientific pursuits. I had had few strong or violent passions to trouble
me, and few things had wounded me very deeply. I had had, it is true, my
little romances, but not being of a sentimental turn, and having a
strong constitution and most excellent health, they had hardly rippled
the surface of the ordinarily smooth current of my life. I had pursued
science as a pastime. I took an easy, pleasant interest in it, but had
no passion for it. I had no enthusiasm, and found in the pursuit only a
gentle excitement, as in reading one of James’s novels, which, by the
by, are the best of all novels, for you can take them up or lay them
down when you please. Spare me, I always say, those much-be-praised
works of fiction which deal with strong and violent passions, which
produce in the reader a painfully intense interest, and which, when you
once begin reading them, you cannot lay down till you have read to the
end. I avoid reading such a novel, as I avoid a night’s debauch.
But now a change came over me. I became restless, and had an intense
longing to explore the secrets of things, and to look within the veil
with which nature kindly shrouds her laboratory. I longed to make myself
acquainted with the primal elements of being, and to be able to command
them; I burned to enlarge not only my knowledge, but my forces. I would
be able to raise the tempest on the deep, to fly through the air, to
wield the lightning, to leave and enter my body at will, to succor my
friends or overwhelm my enemies at a distance. I would read the stars,
comprehend their influences, and command their courses. I envied the old
Chaldean sages, the mighty magicians of the East, and the wizards and
weird sisters of the North. Why should it not be literally true that
mind is omnipotent over matter? Is not man called the lord of this lower
creation? Why then should he fear, or not be able to exercise his
lordship? Had we not seen the wonders of science? Had not man learned to
make the lightnings his steeds, and flames of fire his ministers? What
are the mighty forces of nature? May not man seize them, use them, and
wield their might at his pleasure?
Such thoughts were new to me, still more new were those intense
longings. The horizon of human power seemed to enlarge around me, and I
seemed to rise in the majesty and might of my nature. I was becoming, as
it were, a new man. The ethereal fire within had hitherto slumbered. It
was now kindled, and its flames aspired to their native heaven. I would